The Promotion

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The moment I stepped out of the car, the air felt heavier—thicker somehow. My palms were slick with sweat as I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag, grounding myself with the pressure. The iron gates of Charles Moore's estate loomed ahead of me, tall and unforgiving, like they were daring me to turn back.

I didn't.

Not yet.

Every part of me was clinging to the hope that Sarah's timing would be perfect. That any second now, this would all go according to plan. But my head felt dense, clouded with too many thoughts colliding at once. Fear. Adrenaline. Determination. I couldn't afford to unravel—not now.

I pressed the bell.

Less than ten seconds passed before the gate buzzed and slowly creaked open.

Too easy.

My stomach twisted as I stepped through, the gravel crunching beneath my feet as I made my way down the long, winding drive. With every step, doubt crept in. You can still leave, a voice whispered. Just turn around. Pretend this never happened.

I forced my breathing to steady. If Charles sensed even a flicker of uncertainty, the entire plan would collapse.

The front doors opened before I reached them.

And there he was.

Charles Moore stood tall and smug, whisky glass in one hand, cigar in the other, like a king surveying his kingdom. The sight of him made my skin crawl.

"Louisa, darling," he drawled, his voice deep and raspy. "So good to see you."

He strode toward me, arms opening wide. I froze, instinctively keeping my hands stiff at my sides as he engulfed me in a heavy, unwanted hug. The stench of cigar smoke and overpowering cologne invaded my senses, making my stomach lurch.

I held my breath until he finally stepped back.

His eyes dragged slowly over me, lingering far longer than necessary. I glanced down at my watch, silently counting seconds. Come on, Sarah.

"How have you been, my darling?" he asked, taking a long pull from his cigar.

The word darling made my skin prickle. It sounded wrong now—tainted.

"I'm good, thank you," I replied, forcing calm into my voice. My gaze flicked around the room, desperately trying to orient myself. Where was the office? Why hadn't I paid attention when he gave me that damn tour?

"You know me," he chuckled. "Always doing well. Now—what were these papers you needed signed?"

My heart dropped.

I cleared my throat, buying time. "Right—yes. The papers. They're—"

"Mr Moore?"

The interruption felt like oxygen flooding my lungs.

A guard stood just inside the doorway.

"What?" Charles snapped, irritation flashing across his face.

"There's a lady at the gate," the guard said cautiously.

"And?" Charles barked. "What does she want?"

"She wouldn't say. Only that it's urgent."

Charles swore under his breath. "For fuck's sake. Fine. Tell her I'm coming."

He turned back to me, irritation wiped away, replaced by that oily smile. "Won't be a minute, darling. Hopefully this bitch won't take long."

Before he could step away, I seized my chance. "While you're gone, could I use the bathroom?"