Chapter 4 - The Grand Metropolitan
The Grand Metropolitan Hotel was an imposing fortress of marble, brass, and crystal.
Searchlights cut through the night sky outside, flashing across lines of sleek black limousines dropping off the city’s elite. Paparazzi flashes exploded like lightning every time a councilman or high-society heiress stepped onto the velvet carpet.
A sleek black town car pulled up to the side entrance—a door reserved for high-security guests.
Delaney stepped out, holding the train of her blue dress, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird. Vincent stepped out right beside her, wearing a dark wool coat with his collar turned up, keeping his face hidden beneath the brim of a dark hat.
"Remember the plan," Vincent murmured as they walked through the service corridor led by a sympathetic hotel manager. "Julian has positioned eight armed men around the main ballroom. His right-hand man, Marco, will be watching the security monitors."
"And my job?" Delaney asked, checking the tiny earpiece concealed beneath her hair.
"You walk into the ballroom as an independent donor representing the Larkin Row Preservation Trust," Vincent said. "Julian won't recognize you in that dress. You will slip this drive into the main AV control deck behind the projection screen. Once the video feeds flip, I step onto the stage."
"What if Marco sees me?"
Vincent stopped at the double doors leading into the main gallery. He reached out and gently squeezed her hand. His grip was steady and warm.
"Marco thinks I'm six feet under in Cold Water Bend," Vincent said. "He’s looking for dead men, Delaney. He isn't looking for a girl with honeysuckle in her soul."
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Delaney took a deep breath, adjusted her posture, and smoothed down her silk gown. She wasn't just a scared homeless girl hiding in the mud anymore. She was the witness. She was the reckoning.
She pushed open the heavy brass doors and walked into the blinding light of the ballroom.
