William sank into the Hotel’s massive bed.
It felt like being wrapped in a giant cotton candy cloud.
His tense nerves finally relaxed.
Life suddenly seemed worth living again.
Unlike the old New York Continental, this one was brand new.
Modern.
Stylish.
William took a sip of soda water from the bedside table.
The cold liquid slid down his throat.
Instant happiness.
That lasted about two seconds.
Then reality crashed back in.
His life was in someone else’s hands now.
Tomorrow, he’d meet the Manager.
He wasn’t sure how this would play out.
Probably fine.
He was the victim here.
The mess in his apartment proved that.
He hadn’t met the Manager yet, but the decor told a story.
Whoever ran this place had taste.
Open to new things.
The question was whether this Hotel was as independent as New York’s.
That depended on the Manager’s skill.
William glanced at the two bags by the bed.
Everything he owned was in there.
His body was exhausted, but he still put his pistol on the nightstand and set a soda can by the door.
Curtains drawn tight.
No openings.
People did crazy things for money.
Until his bounty was lifted, he wasn’t taking chances.
At 9:30 AM, a rhythmic knock woke him.
The dream faded, leaving behind a flicker of irritation.
The irritation vanished when he opened the door.
Annabelle stood there, smiling.
Her blonde hair caught the light.
William had to admit, she was exactly his type.
She didn’t wait for his groggy brain to catch up.
She nudged a breakfast cart forward and asked, “May I come in?” Breakfast in bed.
Life was good.
Warm milk with a sprinkle of sugar.
Soft bread, sweet and fluffy.
A runny egg on the side.
William let the bread melt on his tongue.
The sugar brought out the softness.
Simple, yet perfect.
Across from him, Annabelle watched with quiet satisfaction.
There was something rewarding about watching someone enjoy your work.
She waited until he was done, then glanced at her expensive mechanical watch.
“You have ten minutes to get ready.
I’ll wait outside.” She nodded and left, pushing the empty cart.
William dressed quickly.
Martin boots.
Sturdy cargo pants and jacket.
A black turtleneck underneath.
The look was sharp, no-nonsense.
He skipped the glasses.
Without them, his face carried a hint of danger.
That was intentional.
This wasn’t a charity.
These people were wolves.
The Manager was one of the deadliest in the city.
Annabelle led him through winding corridors to a…
tea room?
William paused, then followed.
Most underworld types preferred bars.
No one knew if tomorrow would come.
A Manager in a tea room was unexpected.
The tea aroma was refreshing.
Calming.
Better than a smoky bar for negotiations.
The door opened into a room triple the size of William’s apartment.
A woman in a black dress sat by the tea set.
Elegant.
She gestured for William to sit across from her.
The Manager was younger than he’d expected.
Early thirties.
Probably new to the role.
William sat.
He noticed Annabelle hadn’t taken her usual spot behind the Manager.
She stood behind William, at an angle.
Like she was watching for him to make a move.
Before he could dwell on it, the woman spoke.
“First time meeting, Mr.
Stanley.
You haven’t been with us long, but I keep hearing your name.” She smiled.
“I’m Venus.
Manager of this Hotel.” She studied him, not giving him a chance to respond.
“You made quite a scene last night.
A lot of people in the old district are looking for you.
Your bounty went up, by the way.
Being in the spotlight has risks, doesn’t it?” She handed him a cup of tea and stood, looking almost sad.
“Jimmy was a good man.
Helpful.
Always willing to solve my problems.
But good people die young.” Her eyes glistened.
“You’ll help me, won’t you, Mr.
Stanley?
As compensation for last night’s events.” William understood.
This was the judgment.
The friendly tone was just packaging.
Say no, and he might not make it out of the room.
He’d learned to sense eyes on him.
There were more than three people in this room.
He nodded.
Venus brightened instantly.
She grabbed his hand and shook it enthusiastically.
The motion made William dizzy.
Where Annabelle was refined, Venus was…
ample.
William suddenly understood why people appreciated certain features.
“I heard you’re interested in Cleaner work, William!
Smart choice.
A great cover identity.” She’d dropped the formalities in seconds.
Like they’d known each other for years.
“Can you start tomorrow?
Annabelle will handle the details.” Now that’s how you talk.
All suggestion.
Even when it was clearly an order, it didn’t feel like one.
And there was pay.
“Yes, Ms.
Venus.”