She reached out a hand before she’d even come to a stop. “Ms. Miller?”
“Yes.” I took her hand and gave it a shake.
“Welcome to The Rex. My name is Annika. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to Genevieve’s office.”
“Thank you.” I dropped her hand and walked beside her as we went toward the elevators.
There was no idle chitchat as we waited for the doors to open. A soft bell chimed, signaling the arrival of a car. The doors pinged open and Annika gestured for me to proceed first.
She pushed the button for the fifteenth floor and the light turned a golden orange and the doors closed in front of us, but the elevator didn’t move. She then reached into her blouse to pull out a golden skeleton key on a chain, similar to the one Tiffany wore. Annika took off the necklace and placed the one-inch long key into a single, tiny unmarked keyhole next to the button for the fifteenth floor. With a gentle turn, the elevator came to life and we started our ascent. She removed the key from the keyhole and placed the necklace back around her neck and tucked it into her blouse, hiding it from sight.
We were silent, which I was grateful for. The steady beating of my heart was enough to occupy me. I held my clutch, determined to appear poised instead of nervous.
The elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open to reveal a room with cream brocade patterned wallpaper and an antique oak desk with detailed scrollwork on the legs. The air smelled of lemongrass and instantly made me feel welcome.
Annika stepped out of the elevator and I followed her, my gaze roving across the walls and artwork. She walked to a closed door that hadn’t been visible from the elevator and rapped on it before pushing it open. “I have Ms. Miller for you.”
“Thank you,” came a distinctive feminine voice. “Please show her in.”
Annika turned around as she pushed the door farther open. “Genevieve will see you now.”
“Thanks,” I said as I strode past her into the room.
The door closed behind me and I took a moment to marvel at the space. It wasn’t at all like the front room I’d just walked through. It looked like an English library, complete with leather couches, a gas fireplace, and shelves lined with leather bound books.
A woman with a brown chin-length bob wearing a short-sleeved black silk dress sat on one of the small couches that faced the fireplace, papers spread out on the dark wood table in front of her.
She looked up and gave me a cursory glance. “Have a seat,” she commanded. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.”
I did as she said and sat down in one of the leather chairs—the one facing away from the window so I wouldn’t be distracted by the view of the outside world.
While the woman ignored me and focused on the papers in front of her, I let my gaze wander around the room again. It didn’t look at all like the sort of place one would conduct an interview. It wasn’t a sterile environment meant to keep someone on edge, but rather warm and hospitable.
“What do you think?” Genevieve asked.
I jumped and then let out a small laugh. I’d been so engaged with the thoughts in my own head that I’d forgotten she was there.
“It’s stunning,” I admitted. “Completely at odds with the front room.” My gaze met hers.
Genevieve set down a black fountain pen and then casually leaned against the couch. She lifted her arm so her elbow rested on the back of the leather sofa as she peered at me.
“I spend a lot of time in here. I wanted it to be comfortable.”
I nodded, setting my clutch aside, wishing I had something to do with my hands.
There was another knock on the door and Annika came in with a tea tray. She set it down and then discreetly left again.
I looked at the tea tray and held in a snort of laughter.
Tiffany, you wily bitch.
We spent the next few minutes fixing our tea. I held my teacup like a shield, waiting for Genevieve to direct the interview. So far, all she’d managed to do was peruse me from head to toe. Her eyes gleamed with shrewd intelligence and I wondered what thoughts were circulating through her mind.