More like parasitic. Mr. K seemed to read her expression, because he responded to the thought.
“I’m aware of your troubled history with Weiss. Our agreement was that as long as you work for me, she won’t dare touch you. Unfortunately, last night’s events put that deal at risk.”
Sterling and Fernando shifted in their seats. He gripped her hand tighter.
“Weiss will take more than clients if she finds out. She’ll blame me… she’ll ruin me,” she said, picturing the slammed door of every bar and club she’d be blacklisted at.
Mr. K steepled his hands as if in prayer, kissing his fingertips in contemplation. “Shouldshe blame you? From my understanding of last night’s charades, the Hotel was left unlocked.”
He leaned forward.
Sterling’s mouth went dry so fast, she couldn’t have protested if she tried. Sweat gathered between her palm and Fernando’s.
“I want this sorted before February,” said Mr. K. “We can’t afford to be closed, especially before Valentine’s Day.”
He was right. Valentine’s was their biggest event. Demand surpassed supply, extending the holiday into a weeklong ordeal. The rush was exacerbated by the opera ball on the sixteenth. Rooms sold at tenfold their usual price, minimum, and were booked years in advance. Coordinating the bevy of grand gestures and choreographed romance was a complex equation. Every year there were a dozen marriage proposals and often at least one refusal. But no guest could leave unhappy, and no one’s special moment could be disturbed by someone else’s. The battle preparations usually began on January 14. Two days from now.
Mr. K continued. “Police want answers. Guests want assurance this won’t happen again. Tell me, what does Madame Weiss want?”
Sterling cleared her throat. “Control.”
“What is it that you say about the submissive?”
“That they’re actually in control.”
“We need to let Madame Weiss think we’re submitting. Now, I realize you won’t like this—”
“Then don’t say it.”
“But I want you to tell her personally,” said Mr. K.
“I’m not going near that woman.”
“Sterling, my little silver spoon, haven’t I always kept you safe? I’ve given you a home, a living. If the Orient can’t run, how long can I maintain that?”
“I… I’m not ungrateful, sir, but—”
“Trust me when I say this is the only way I can keep doing so. Think about it. If Madame heard this from anyone else, even me, what would she do next?”
“Strangle me with a pearl necklace.”
Mr. K’s expression softened as he laid on the charm. “You can’t hide here forever, Spoon. You’re not one to be kept locked away. You think Weiss won’t point at you? Whose DNA will the police find on Hedy?”
Fernando wrapped his arm around her. “I’ll go with you. It’ll be okay.”
Fear gripped Sterling as she retreated into her mind hotel. Her thoughts fractured. The police tape outside Room 5. Mr. Lime’s lifeless palm. Hedy’s lips, Hedy’s waist, the trio of freckles on Hedy’s shoulder that formed an ellipsis, how she always left people wanting more.Hedy. Hedy. Hedy.
Sterling snapped out of it.
“Fine,” she said.
“Good girl,” said Mr. K.
Her cheeks burned. “I don’t trust the police with the guest list, even if some of the cops are our most loyal customers.”
She opened the ledger and pointed out guests who’d been there between one and four.
“Oida. That’s quite a set. Can you even find them?”
