Chapter 1
850 Words
Natalie sat in the uncomfortable office chair across from Mr. Martin, her application resting between them.
He didn’t pick it up right away. He just looked at it. Then at her.
“No guard experience?”
Natalie shook her head. “No, but I’m a fast learner. I’m in college right now, and this came at the perfect time.”
His gaze dropped back to the papers. He flipped through them once, slowly and deliberately, then slid her university transcript out of the stack and set it aside like it didn’t matter.
Not even a glance.
“Why do you want this job?”
“Honestly?” Natalie hesitated, then forced a small smile. “I need the money.”
She leaned forward slightly. “Can I ask why the position opened?”
His head snapped up.
For the first time, he really looked at her, and the shift was immediate. His eyes moved over her, not in a way that felt impressed, but measured. Cold. Like he was deciding something.
Something tightened low in her stomach before she could stop it. She straightened in the chair, suddenly aware of her hands, her posture, the way she was sitting there in the nicest outfit she had managed to bring to school with her.
His expression didn’t change.
“We’ve never hired a girl before.”
She noticed immediately that wasn’t an answer.
Natalie opened her mouth to ask again anyway. Even if she didn’t get the job, she wanted to know. That was who she was. Curious. Always asking questions. One of the reasons she’d chosen research.
He spoke before she could.
“You can start tonight.”
She blinked.
“Shift starts at eight. At four, you let the cleaning staff in and go home.” His tone stayed flat, practiced. “Your uniform will be in your locker. Change into it here. Do not leave wearing it. Immediate termination if you do.”
Natalie frowned slightly. “Why?”
“The uniforms are exact replicas,” he continued, cutting over her. “Property of the museum. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” It came out softer than she meant it to.
He nodded once, like that settled everything, then tossed the pile into a drawer and shut it.
Natalie sat there another second, waiting for something else.
Nothing came.
No training. No walkthrough. No explanation. She wasn’t even being offered a tour of the museum.
But the pay was three times higher than anything else she’d found. The night shift would be quiet, perfect for studying, and the money would fix the problem of helping her dad with next term’s tuition.
She pushed the thought down and stood, forcing a smile as she held out her hand.
“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
He looked at her hand like it didn’t belong there. Then, slowly, he rose and took it. His grip was colder than it should have been.
“Just don’t disappear in a week like the rest of them.”
The locker room felt smaller once the door shut behind her.
Not cramped.
Just closed in.
Natalie set her bag down and reached into the open locker. The uniform was already there, folded neatly, as if someone had placed it minutes ago.
She frowned at that, but didn’t linger on it.
“That’s prompt,” she muttered.
Her voice barely carried through the room.
She changed quickly. Shoes off. Shirt over her head. The air brushed cool against her skin, enough to pull goosebumps along her arms.
Old building. Stone walls. No insulation.
That made sense.
She bent slightly to grab the uniform pants.
And felt it.
A hand.
Flat against her bare waist.
Not light. Not drifting. A real hand, steady and solid, like someone standing directly behind her.
Natalie froze.
For one split second, her mind filled in the explanation automatically.
Mr. Martin.
He must have come in without her hearing him. Didn’t want to startle her. Just letting her know he was there.
That made sense.
That had to be it.
She straightened slowly, heart hammering harder now as she turned.
“Sorry, I didn’t…”
No one was there.
The words died in her throat.
The locker room stood empty, exactly the way it had been before. Door closed. No footsteps. No movement.
Nothing.
Natalie stayed frozen for another second, one hand still half-raised like she’d been about to gesture toward someone who no longer existed.
But her skin still registered it.
The pressure.
The placement.
Right against her waist.
She swallowed hard and dragged her own hand across the spot, pressing her palm there as if she could recreate the feeling through logic alone.
Fabric shift. Muscle tension. Nerves misfiring.
That had to be it.
It had to be.
She grabbed the rest of the uniform and pulled it on faster now, movements sharper, less careful.
Normal.
Everything was normal.
She just needed to finish changing, get out of the room, and start the shift.
Because whatever she’d felt…
It wasn’t a hand.
It couldn’t have been.
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