The next morning, I woke up to the high-pitched chime of the smartphone sitting on my nightstand. I had tried to hand both the phone and the rest of the cash back to him last night, but he’d flatly refused, telling me to keep them.
Squinting against the sunlight filtering through the blinds, I reached over and tapped the screen. A single unread text sat on the display from a contact saved simply as D: Come to my office when you get up.
I huffed out a heavy breath, tossing the phone back onto the mattress, and dragged myself out of bed. Fortunately, my private quarters included an en-suite bathroom, saving me from having to navigate communal hallways half-asleep.
After a quick shower, I threw on a comfortable pair of shorts and a casual top. I swept a light coat of makeup across my face—
