Under Wraps - Love Under Lockdown

“We have to work alone?” Hedfield asked.

“Yeah, I don’t think I could work without my assistants. Or at least one assistant,” McKoy said.

“That has been accounted for,” Moore said, placing a snazzy trilby onto the dark wood conference table.

“Drawing lots? Seriously?” Jim Alexander said.

“Just be happy we’re not on a boat,” I said, making Jim shudder.

“In this hat are the names of every assistant currently employed at this firm. You will each pick one name, and that person will go into lockdown with you. Hotel suites have been set up for the lockdown period. Think of it as a working holiday.”

There was dissent among the troops, each seemingly keen to keep the assistant that they knew best, but Moore’s word was law, and we all went along. If any among our number should have objected, it was me; I liked to work alone, much to Sandra’s delight. Her job thus far had primarily consisted of giving me messages, patching through phone calls, and spending the rest of the time reading.

Still, the power of Moore compelled, and I reached into the hat with the rest, preparing to meet my destiny. Destiny’s name was Emma Charles. I searched my memory, but could not recollect having met an Emma Charles. It was possible that she was one of the new hires, brought in after the great purge of the summer, when Moore had decided that the firm needed some new blood. Even so, Sandra should have told me about her already.

“Lucky dog!” McKoy said, reading my paper.

“Who’d he get?’ Hedfield asked.

“Emma.”

“No way!”

“Way.” McKoy had a shit-eating grin.

“Lucky bastard!”

“Why is that, William?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” he said, with a sly wink that only made me more curious.

Chapter Two

Damien

The Hotel Seventy was a highly exclusive but popular establishment on the Upper West Side. An unholy alliance between minimalist and Romantic styles, it really was a sight to behold. Everything was some shade of white, including the eggshell-white exterior.

The rooms, despite being described as luxurious, were also pretty small, space being at something of a premium in the city in general, let alone in that particular area. With a small parcel going for upwards of $150 million, owners endeavoured to make the best of their investment.

What they lacked in size, however, they made up for in style. Each room was individually decorated in a tastefully minimalist style, combining bare floors and walls with a few carefully selected furniture pieces that were exquisite in their own right. My room even boasted an original Tiffany lamp on the bedside table. It was the only artificial light source in the room, aside from the stylishly efficient line of track lighting.

Easing up to the curb, I handed the valet my keys, nearly weeping as I did. I loved my car, and I was suddenly flooded with paranoid dread that I would never see it again. Taking a breath to calm myself, I stiffened up my back and marched through the sliding glass doors to meet my destiny.

The clerks were wearing masks and bright blue rubber gloves. I couldn’t really blame them for their caution, even if I wasn’t quite ready to join them yet. I washed my hands with near obsessive frequency, trying to avoid people as much as possible. It put a bit of a damper on my love life, but you had to choose your priorities.

“There you are, sir,” the clerk said as she handed me my room key card, her eyes looking very polite.

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t my first time in a silent elevator, but the sensation hadn’t stopped being eerie. I knew that they had all the same mechanics as their noisy cousins, particularly in the safety department, but it was difficult enough to remember that when I could actually hear the mechanisms moving. In an odd way, I found the noise of elevators to be comforting; it was something my father referred to as ‘uncommon comfort.’

The elevator dinged, the evil geniuses who took away the sound leaving me that much, at least, and the doors slid open. The hallway smelled cool and fresh, very similar to how it felt. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

Moving along the smooth, clean floor at good clip, looking forward to my arrival as much as I dreaded it, the key card was in the slot in a flash, and I was in the welcoming embrace of my new temporary home. I resisted the urge to bounce on the bed.

Few things brought about my inner child like walking into a hotel room, particularly one I was going to be in for a while. It was a christening of sorts, like breaking a bottle of champagne on the back of a new yacht… which must do weird things to the local fish population, but was part of the culture none the less.

I wondered if Emma was in her room, or if, indeed, she had arrived at all. It was the first time I had been early for something in a while. I was likely just trying to get it over with as soon as possible. Time didn’t really work like that, but perception could count for a lot, and the way I figured it, the sooner it began, the sooner it would end.