Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(6)

“Kick it in the ass.”

She turned to him. “How do you know I need to kick anything in the...ass?” The curse word felt alien on her tongue, but she kind of liked it.

“You’re all lit up. Something is up tonight.”

She inclined her head. She nodded toward the case on the chair outside the dressing room. “Yes.”

“Then it definitely applies.”

Her phone buzzed in her purse. She pulled it out and found a text from Lila with the address of the club and time for rehearsal. “I have to get going.”

“The skirt is amazing, but if you have a pair of leggings, it would work for this outfit as well.”

She shook her head. “I don’t really wear anything that tight out of my house.”

“You should.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Own those curves. I know far too many women that pay for them.”

“Don’t they usually pay to have them sucked out?”

He grinned. “Heroin chic is going out of style.”

She was pretty sure skinny would never go out of style, but she smiled anyway. “Thank you...” She glanced at his discreet tag. “Thomas.”

“You’re welcome.” He held up her case. “What do you play?”

“Violin.” She slid her fingers over the handle. The grooves fitted into her palm as perfectly as the fret of her Starfish.

“Your hot factor just jumped about fifteen percent.”

“Dare I ask where that put me?”

“Triple digits for sure, Ms. Reece.”

“Margo.”

He smiled. “Elegant and sexy.”

Someday she might get away with just the sexy.

Maybe.

She walked out of the store with an extra sway in her hips. She didn’t even have to try to put it there, the heels did it.

Maybe she would fit in tonight with the band.

She reached the baggage claim for her flight and claimed her herringbone pink suitcase before making her way out to the line waiting for cabs.

New York City was dirty and noisy, but there was a level of excitement that Boston didn’t have. As if the air was infused with something that wouldn’t allow sleep.

By the time she’d made it up the line to a cab, she was almost adept at walking in heels again. It had been a while. She stepped inside and gave the driver the address. She tucked her case on one side and her suitcase on the other. The city was a logjam of cars and pedestrians. The closer they got to Broadway, the slower the approach.

Finally, old world elegance edged the hyper-neon that peeked from down the street. A doorman opened the cab and helped her out.

“Welcome to the WestHouse, Ms. Reece. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Oh.” She blinked. Lila sure knew how to pull out the stops. “Thank you.”

He took her suitcase and walked her to the gilded door. “Your guest has already arrived and Frank is waiting just inside to take your things.” He popped her telescope handle and Margo slid her specially made case along the length.

“Would you like me to bring this to your room?”

“No, that’s fine. Thank you.” She didn’t let her violin out of her sight—ever.

Her guest? Was Lila waiting for her? “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

Did people really smile like that? Did his face hurt by the end of the night? She knew hers did when she was playing and was supposed to smile at the end of each song.

The lobby was amazing. Crystal, hardwood, and silk everywhere. The dark elegance was touched with cool white marble and a touch of Art Deco design in the front of the check-in desk.

A charming antique key system was still used there and they were displayed behind the desk in lit boxes. A tall man with an austere face and perfectly cut suit came out from a small room behind the desk display.

The moment he caught sight of her, he smiled and his face completely changed. So much so, that Margo found herself smiling back.

“Ms. Reece, so glad to see you made your flight in.”

“Thank you.” How did they know her name?

The tall man slid a slim envelope across the marble counter. “Ms. Shawcross has left your itinerary. When you’re ready, please call down to the desk. She’s made a car available to bring you to the venue tonight.”

Lila thought of everything. She was one of the most professional managers that Margo had ever worked with. It was as refreshing as it was odd. Lila should be running a company, not herding twenty-something rockstars.

“I will, thank you.”

“You’re in Room 604 with a terrace view.” He set a key on the envelope. “The rest of the guests have made their way to the venue.”

She spared a glance at her watch. She had an hour before she needed to be there, but traffic was murderous in the city. “If you could have the car ready in thirty minutes, that would be satisfactory.”

“Excellent.” He inclined his head. “Welcome to the WestHouse, Ms. Reece. I’m Frank. If you need anything, please let me know. We hope you enjoy your stay. “

She nodded with a smile. “Thank you, Frank.”

He held his arm out. “Lewis will help you with your bags.”

“That’s fine. I only have the two.”

“Very well, then.”