rests. The panties tie at the sides, and the top, a deep-V bralette, hugs my breasts and crosses in the back. The contrast is striking against my skin, and I admire my reflection in the mirror longer than normal.
The only traits I share with my mother are the shape of our smiles and the relentless appearance of uncertainty in our eyes. Thank God I don’t see the smile often.
I move away from the mirror before the look in my eyes turns the pinprick of hesitation in my stomach into a gash.
Having chosen a dress that follows the cut of my lingerie to ensure it remains a secret until I reveal it to Talent, I pick a heel to match and leave my room without looking at my reflection a second time.
Warm spring evening air moves through my hair, lifting it from my shoulders before sweeping across my back. My driver notices and his eyes follow the length of my curls to my waist. His attention continues around the curve of my bottom and down the expanse of my legs. I watch him as I step into the back of the car, and he closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of my perfume.
I close the door before he has a chance to memorize it, cracking his trance. He hurries around the front of the car and slides into the driver seat, blushing and rattled.
“You’re headed to the Ridge building downtown, right, Miss Smith?” he asks.
Locking my gaze out the window, I give this man nothing more to grasp on to and simply nod. He won’t know the sound of my voice or offered common courtesy because he made the mistake of taking a closer look at me. I close the glass partition between the front and back seats, hoping it’s enough to blur his mind’s eye.
“What are you doing, Lydia?” I whisper to myself as my apartment building disappears and we head toward the business district.
Nothing about this is in my character. I don’t wear color other than black or white to appointments, my hair usually stays up until I’m behind closed doors, and my heart never beats with nervousness like it knocks now.
I am exposed.
Agreeing to a job with a client as prominent as Talent Ridge goes against everything I work to protect.
I’m digging in my clutch for something to wipe my lipstick off with when the car slows down in front of the Ridge & Sons skyrise. Leaning closer to the car window to get a better look at the building, I can’t see to the top and cloud the window with my breath. I open the car door as the driver comes around, denying him the opportunity to catch another look at my face, and step onto the sidewalk with my gaze held high.
As the sun sinks toward the west, streaks of blue, yellow, and orange light shimmer against the building’s mirror surface. It’s as if the sky opened in front of me and I’m steps away from the heavens.
“Enjoy your evening, Miss Smith,” my driver calls out, but I’m already heading toward the reflection of the sky.
My job is not to admire architecture or daydream about the atmosphere. I’m here to infiltrate the one building in this city Inez hasn’t cracked until now. I straighten my spine, lift my chin, push away any hint of unease I felt before leaving my apartment, and bury Lydia Montgomery down, down, down.
Cara feels nothing.
I walk through the lobby like I own the place. No one stops to ask who I am or where I’m headed. Men with briefcases and women with their cell phones glued to their ears make a path for me, and I get to the elevator without making eye contact with a soul.
No one goes up but me. The elevator doesn’t stop its smooth sail until we’ve reached the top floor, opening to an empty hallway with a set of glass doors etched with Ridge & Sons at the end.
The waiting area’s empty, but there’s a lady behind the reception desk. She smiles upon my arrival, drinking in the way my body fills out my dress. A woman like her—short and unremarkable—doesn’t own an outfit like mine. It wouldn’t look the same on her even if she did, and she’s well aware of how large my presence is compared to hers.
She doesn’t realize how deceiving looks can be.
Brushing her fingertips across her collarbone, she asks, “How may I help you?”