Hired for secrets

You walked out on me

Sofie's thoughts were racing as she drove away from the safe-house. She'd peeled away so many layers from Philip already, yet there seemed to be so much more to him. Was he Phil, who so desperately needed to get away from Elandra that he accepted a marriage proposal? Or was he Philón who cunningly schemed his way towards becoming a very wealthy man, leaving dead bodies in his wake? All she knew was she needed to get away from him and his charm to figure any of this out.

The sun was setting, when she arrived at the serviced apartment SlimRat had rented. It was in a posh high-rise tower overlooking the Thames. This can't be right. Sofie parked her shabby little rental in the visitor car park between a fancy Bugatti and sleek Lotus. The place must be costing a fortune, even if it was only a dingy little studio on a lower level. How could SlimRat afford this?

"Can I help you, miss?" The porter called from behind the gold-laced desk as Sofie entered the glitzy foyer.

"Yes. A friend of mine booked an apartment here. I'm a little early. But I was wondering if you could buzz me up."

"I see," he said, casting a dubious look over her clothes, "can I have the name, please?"

"I... I don't actually have a name."

Sofie felt foolish.

"Of course, you don't." His lips curled into a lopsided patronizing smile. "These friends never give their names to people like you. I think you better leave. Come back when your friend is in or better yet take your business elsewhere."

Sofie took a deep breath. He must be thinking she was a drug dealer, trying to scheme her way into the building to sell her wares.

"I have the reservation number, if that helps?"

The porter rolled his eyes, but dutifully looked over the number on Sofie's phone. He paused to check the number again before nodding with an exacerbated expression. He disapproved of her and how she'd gotten the number, but had no grounds anymore to turn her out.

"You may go up. But let me warn you: there is no other business to be had here while you wait for your friend. You are to stay in your suite. No walking around the pool or bar area. Did I make myself clear? We are a respectable establishment!"

Sofie nodded, she did not bother to correct him. Being a drug dealer wasn't the worst thing she'd been accused of today. She couldn't quite decide what hurt her more: Phillip thinking she had no regard for other people's lives or SlimRat implying her judgement was blinded by love.

The porter punched the access code into the lift's operating system and hovered until the sliding doors closed behind her. He must have had some pretty bad experiences to be so suspicious. Too much money obviously brings out the worst in people.

'Level 34,' the lift chimed and the doors opened to a vast living room overlooking London. The kitchen and lounge area had a whole wall with floor-to-ceiling window panes and the marble flooring shimmered in the setting sun. Sofie took in the breathtaking view, before exploring the rest of the apartment. She brushed against the opulent flower bouquets, lining the hallway and inhaled the crisp fresh smell of the linen that covered the enormous beds in the three adjacent bedrooms. She felt misplaced amongst all this luxury.

But Philip would fit right in.

This was his level of luxury. The standard he was used to. She looked up the spiral staircase leading to the upstairs balcony and could not help but picture him walking down. His footsteps echoing in the immense space and his scent wrapping itself around her.

The irony.

Philip was trapped in a barely liveable barrack, while she could lounge on a sofa that probably cost more than her yearly income. They truly had reversed their roles. Philip was free, while Sofie had to be protected by a wealthy benefactor and potentially had to dance to their tune.