Page 266 of The Spider Queen

Two nights later, my cab pulled to a stop outside The Rex Hotel. An attendant dressed in a perfectly pressed black suit opened the passenger door and waited as I paid the fare. He attempted to take the box from my hands, but I shook my head and smiled.

The hotel lobby was old world and dramatic. It was beautiful, down to the marble floors, the gleaming wood, and the cream lobby furniture.

My steps were quiet as I made my way to the waiting desk attendant. She greeted me with a smile. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Campbell. I have a delivery for him.” My eyes went to the box that I’d set on the counter.

I’d called his cell phone before I left Chinatown, but he hadn’t picked up.

“Mr. Campbell is in a business meeting and cannot be reached.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of business meeting takes place at nine at night?”

The woman’s smile didn’t falter. “The important kind. You’re welcome to sit at the bar.” She gestured to the restaurant. “Or catch the show.”

“Show? What show?”

“The burlesque show,” she said. “In the club.”

I wasn’t in the mood to wait for anyone—hotel mogul who’d paid me a small fortune or not. Still, I had nothing to do for a few hours. I didn’t like to go out until at least eleven.

“Thank you. I’ll be at the bar.”

“Have dinner,” she said. “On Mr. Campbell.”

I nodded, lifted the box, and then strolled into the bar and restaurant. It was dim and all the booths were filled with customers. The low din of conversations reached my ears as I looked to the bar, which had a few unoccupied seats. I perched on a stool in the corner, the box within reach.

“Evening,” the bartender greeted. He was older, with gray hair at his temples, his eyes assessing but not flirtatious.

“Hello,” I said. “I’ll have a Manhattan, please. Up.”

He nodded as he filled a glass with water and set it down on a Rex Hotel coaster.

“What’s in the box?” he asked, getting the ingredients for my drink.

“A present.”

“For?”

I shrugged.

“Not the chatty type?”

“Not really.”

He smiled. “My name is Charlie if you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

Charlie moved away, and like all professional bartenders he found something to do. He wasn’t idle for even a moment, and it put me at ease. He wouldn’t be standing around and watching me.

As I sipped on my perfect Manhattan, I studied the patrons. After a few minutes, a woman entered the room and immediately caught my attention. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. She was beautiful—I could tell even in the low lighting of the restaurant. Her hair was pulled up into a sleek bun, the sleeveless black dress dipped into a classy vee to reveal the creamy highlights of her skin. The pearls at her neck were expensive, but it was the slight limp that stood out the most.

She walked like she didn’t have it.

Her smile was wide as she greeted a few tables. Clearly she knew people, and she was known. She was charmingly regal. When she approached the bar, I expected her to sit on a stool, demure and proper.

She surprised me when she greeted the bartender by name and wrapped him in a hug. Before she was even settled, he placed a glass of scotch in front of her.