Page 9 of Finding Grey

“Where do you like to keep your identification when it gets in the way?”

I bit down on my lip to keep from laughing. This wasn’t just a test for Grey, this was a test for that night. Dante wanted to know if I remembered it in detail. As if I’d forget the feel of him digging his fingers deep into my pocket, and the way I’d bucked against his hand in response. There’d been no way to prevent my reaction when the tips of those fingers came dangerously close to the boner I’d had from the second he grabbed me and got all up in my face. “In the front, left pocket of my jeans,” I said now. “They were black.”

The guard nodded. “Last question,” he told me as he read over the sheet on his clipboard. “Name your favourite band.”

My brain stalled as I drew a blank. “Favourite band?”

Smile dropping, the security guard shifted on his feet. “Come on, mate,” he insisted. “Don’t let us down now. I’ve got a Mrs I’d like to go home to.”

“Just let me think for a second.” I liked lots of bands. I couldn’t really name a favourite, so how would Dante know? It occurred to me I should give his name but that didn’t make any sense, not if this was supposed to be a test only Grey could pass. It had to be a band Dante knew I liked. But we hadn’t talked about music that night, except… “I wore a Nirvana t-shirt,” I blurted out. “It has to be Nirvana.”

“Thank Christ for that,” the guard muttered under his breath. “I never thought I’d say this boys,” he told the other guards, “but it seems we have a winner.” He handed me a lanyard with a VIP tag on the end and then, seeing Gabi’s hand in mine, handed her one as well. Then, he turned to open the door behind him before gesturing back to us. “Please follow me.”

A roar of disappointment started up as we entered the building and the night lit up with camera flashes as the people still in line realised what was happening and hurried to capture a photo of the elusiveGrey. Thankfully, all they would get was a picture of the back of my hoodie.

The guard led us to another man, whose jacket identified him as the Head of Security. They spoke for a few moments before the head guy ushered us forward. “This way,” he said with a frown. “I’ll let Mr Sinclair know you’re here.”

Gabi’s hand gripped mine tight as we made our way down the long corridor and I squeezed back reassuringly. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” She bounced up and down, chanting the words under her breath before stretching up to whisper in my ear, “I can’t believe you turned out to be Cinderella after all.”