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“This place is all suites,” he explained as he inserted his key into the slot to call the elevator. “Wait until you see the room.”
The elevator arrived, and the doors slid open silently. They entered an elevator roughly the size of Leilah’s girlhood bedroom and rode up in silence. The elevator chimed softly to let them know they’d reached their floor, and the doors opened onto a wide, gleaming hallway.
He ushered her out and led her to the door at the left end of the hall. A matching door anchored the right end.
“There are only two rooms on this whole floor?”
“Yep. And the floor above this is the penthouse. It has access to a private rooftop garden and a plunge pool.”
“Must be nice.”
“I’ll bet Ahmadi stays up there when he’s in D.C.,” Ryan told her.
“Oh joy, that should make it easier for his investigator to find us.” She paused. “Is she still tailing me?”
He shook his head. “It looks like he called her off you last week. Probably after he realized the threat. Whether that’s because he didn’t want her to put herself in harm’s way or because he was afraid she’d get caught up in an eventual investigation and reveal who she was working for, I can’t say.”
“The first interpretation is a generous one. I think the second is the more likely of the two,” Leilah told him.
He swept the door open, and she stepped inside. As she did, her breath caught in her throat. The suite was enormous, sumptuous, and impeccably decorated. She entered into a sunken living room with a massive, highly polished bar and a seating arrangement of white leather couches and chairs. Three steps up was a dining room anchored by a table with seating for twelve under the largest crystal chandelier she’d ever seen. Behind the table, French doors led out to a wide balcony with a view of the city.
Ryan waved toward the right. “There’s a full-sized kitchen back there.” Then he pointed to the left. “And three bedrooms, three bathrooms on that end.”
She walked down the hall to peek into the bedroom suites, lingering in the bathroom. She lusted after the iridescent glass-tiled oversized shower with a rainfall shower head mounted on the ceiling and an array of complicated looking knobs and sprayers mounted on the wall. A deep Japanese soaking tub sat next to the shower stall, calling her name.
“This bathroom is unbelievable. I’m going to take a showeranda bath tonight,” she informed Ryan.
He grinned at her excitement. “I have a change of clothes—several, actually. I mean, they’re Jake’s so the wardrobe is heavier on flannel and corduroy than my usual attire. But I’m guessing you didn’t pack anything?”
She shook her head. “I just took off.”
“We might have to complete thisPretty Womanexperience by taking you shopping. There’s no Rodeo Drive, of course, but I’m sure we can find a suitable substitute in Georgetown.”
She started to smile back, then put the brakes on the fantasy. “Let’s wait and see what we learn when we call Potomac.”
“That’s fair. Come look at Vera Mullen’s reports, then we’ll call Jake.”
She followed him back out to the main living space and joined him at the walnut desk set off in an alcove near the dining room.
He removed a stack of papers from his laptop bag and passed them to her.
She settled into the chair behind the desk and scanned them. Each sheet was dated and every entry was notated with military time. It was disconcerting to see her life reduced to an antiseptic description of her movements:
Subject works out—cardio and weights.
Subject drinks green smoothie while chatting on the phone.
She’d been talking to Marielle, asking what she could add next time to make the bitter smoothie sweeter. Marielle recommended strawberries and an apple.
She flipped forward.
Subject attends dinner at parents’ home. Brother present. No other guests.
Subject attends chamber music concert. Arrives alone. Joined in lobby by brother’s friend. R.H.
There was the description of Ryan that shorted him a half-inch in height. She smiled faintly despite her unease.
Subject meets R.H. for coffee.
