The concrete steps of the service stairwell were cold and endless, echoing with the frantic, slapping sounds of my flats. I descended four flights at a time, my lungs burning, my mind entirely detached from the luxury suite I had just fled.
Let him be angry, I thought fiercely, pushing through a heavy fire door that burst out into a rainy side alley. Let Adrian Holt think whatever he wants.
The downpour hit me instantly, soaking my satin blouse and flattening my hair against my scalp. I ran to the main street, waving my arms frantically until a battered yellow cab screeched to a halt. I threw myself into the backseat, shouting my address to the driver.
The transition from the pristine, scent-filled air of the Grand Regent to the suffocating smell of damp upholstery and cheap pineapple a
