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I wonder how devilish my smile looks when I look down at her again. “Well, then let’s not waste any more time. Get up.”
She’s up and by the door before I can turn around again. I check the time. 09:10.
“Linda,” Natasha says as we pass another banker with round glasses and a cardigan in the hallway to the back. “I’m taking Mr. Stanford to his safe. Log it in, please, will you?”
Linda and Natasha stop, but I don’t. She can fucking catch up.
“I think you’re the one meant to do that, Miss Saint. Only the manager—”
“Can’t you see Mr. Stanford is in a rush, Linda? We adapt to V.I.P. clients, now off you go.”
Natasha hurries after me, catching up.
“Mr. Stanford?” I query.
“Oh,” she giggles. “He’s a V.I.P. client of ours. He’s got alotof money in that safe.”
“Does he now?”
“Yeah. He’s a tall blond, not too dissimilar from you, sir.”
She taps a code on astaff onlyelevator and we get in.
“Down,” I tell her after she pushes a golden key in and presses the only button in here.
She drops to her knees, and I put my hand at the top of her head. “You’ll crawl to the safe.”
“Yes, sir.”
The second we arrive in the basement, she crawls across the white tiles. We take a right, and pass the emergency exit I saw in the pictures, and soon after, the round, thick concrete door of the vault.
“Oh, shit.” It escapes me as I look at the gigantic door.
“May I stand up, sir.”
Time check. 09:13 and 51 one second.
“Hurry.”
She’s on her two feet already, grabbing a key attached to her belt by a retractable wire. She puts it in, turns, then another key, turns again.
This is the longest thing I’ve ever had to endure.
“Hurry, beautiful. Patience is not my best asset.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs.
Something clicks, and she turns the wheel of the giant door. Steel-reinforced concrete. That shit is heavy.
“On your knees,” I say as I grab the door myself. “To the side.”
I use all my strength to open it quickly.
There are bars behind it. The money is in a fucking cage, and it takes all of me not to snap.
“Go on.”
She opens the door, and we finally walk in.
