Page 33 of Filthy Hot Escort
Perhaps she should have stayed home, wrapped up in cute pajamas, sitting cross-legged in bed, watching TV as she ate ice cream straight out of the carton.
Instead, she was teetering down a dim alleyway, clutching her purse and clad only in the evening gown and heels she’d worn to the Masquerade Party, searching for an address that seemed not to exist.
A squeal of brakes caught her attention, and she whirled around to peer down the dimly lit alleyway, but the car on the street behind her revved its engine and raced off. She couldn’t decide if Julian’s plan for her to meet him at the address he’d given involved tying her to a cross and using a flogger on her or kidnapping her for ransom.
Which was silly, of course, given how rich he was, but Lord knew either activity would fit the mood of this alleyway. But to be fair, it was a dimly lit alley, but at either end of it, New Yorkers walked by, and there was no reason to think she was in danger. Still, she felt like the easiest target in the world, standing there in her evening gown, squinting in the weak lamplight at the small printed letters on the business card Julian gave her the night before. At the same time, she gripped her canister of pepper spray in her other hand and mentally reviewed the tips and moves she’d learned in a plethora of self-defense classes years ago.
She wondered what Julian would think of her precautions, if anything? Would he call her paranoid, as Rex had sometimes done? Or would Julian applaud her? Would he go even further by identifying her other vulnerabilities and helping her turn them into strengths?
For some inexplicable reason, she believed the answer to those questions would be yes.
A metal door suddenly opened, the rusted hinges screaming into the murky night. A high-pitched yelp inadvertently escaped from her lips, and her heart thudded so loud she could hear it in her ears.
Calm down, Skylar. It’s just a door.
She cleared her throat and tried her best to play it cool as a man the size of a mountain poked his head out.
“Are you here for a dinner date?” the man boomed out, and the earth seemed to shake under her feet.
“Yes.” She took a small step back, partially because he terrified her and partially so she could see all the way up to his stern, serious face. His gaze went behind her shoulder, and he jerked his chin. A quick look in that direction revealed a man in a black suit leaning against a brick wall, feet and arms crossed. Where the hell had he come from? He grinned while the man who’d opened the door scowled at him.
“Why didn’t you direct her to the door like you’re being paid to do with customers, moron?”
The other man shrugged. “I walked another customer to her car. I must have missed her.”
He’d missed her during the entire time she’d been here, triple checking that she had the right address? Skylar glared at him.
“Do you still have your invitation, Ma’am? I’ll need it to let you in,” the man at the door whom she was dubbing Goliath said.
“I don’t have an invitation. I just typed the address I was given into my Maps app, and here I am.”
“Do you still have the card with the address?”
She opened her clutch and pulled out the thick ivory card Julian had given her the night before. “Here. But it’s just the address. No invitation is written on it, and—”
The man took it out of her hand and pulled out a flashlight and a small booklet from his jacket pocket. Skylar watched curiously as he flipped to a page with a smear of maroon. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he lined up the lipstick stain on the business card with a matching stain on his page. She was surprised to see the exact same color.
“Welcome, Ms. Raven,” Goliath said. “I’ll take you to your table.”
Raven?
As she took the card back from Goliath and dropped it into her clutch, her fingers brushed against the black feather that Julian had left in her cleavage.
Thefeather.
Of course. She was indeedthe raven.
For some strange reason, the thought aroused her, sending her breath quickening.
Goliath gestured, and after sucking in a deep breath, Skylar followed him inside, where they wended their way down a set of stairs. They stopped at another metal door, and Goliath shifted to block her with his back from seeing the electronic keypad on the side of the door. She heard heavy metal bolts shifting, and then the door swung open and—
And her jaw dropped at the sight of the gorgeous, intimate restaurant laid out before her.
A man in a tuxedo—clearly the maître d—wove between intimate tables for two that flickered in candlelight. A three-piece jazz band in the corner played haunting music. Overhead a crystal chandelier spilled shimmering light through the place. It felt like she’d stepped back in time.
“Follow me, please, Ms. Raven.”
She blinked and returned her attention to Goliath, who led her to a wrought iron spiral staircase. Careful to not break a heel, she began climbing, noting that he didn’t follow. As she got closer to the loft that overlooked the main floor, she glanced upward and gasped. The loft’s ceiling consisted of a glass dome opening to a canopy of trees and vines covered in tiny, sparkling lights. It was the closest thing to stars she’d ever seen while in the city—a sight that spoke of magic, of wishes, of fairy tales. Of dreams come true.