𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 ✓ [𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄]

✎chapter twenty four × east river bullets

manhattan, new  york
clayton hotel
eleven twenty seven pm
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(TW: Drugging, Firearms)

My heels click against the concrete, but the sound is more or less muffled by the pouring rain. The puddles forming into small ponds on the ground take on the lights in wavy, haphazard reflections.

Angelo holds a black umbrella over us both as we walk arm in arm towards the entrance of a tall building. The glass tower lifts so high into the sky, it disappears into the clouds. We step into the lobby of the hotel and it's quiet at almost midnight on a weekend. We used to get quite a few patrons in the late hours at the Regálien; lovers on the run, divorcées looking to crash, drunk trust fund babies.

I feel like one of those types as Angelo leaves the umbrella at the coat check and talks to the staff at the front desk. The interior of the hotel is extremely modern. I haven't seen so much black marble in all my life. There's a piano with live ivy spiraling all over and one of those electric fireplaces near the waiting area.

Before I have time to observe anymore, Angelo is ready to head off. We walk towards the elevator and take the long quiet ride up twenty two floors until the doors open up again. This floor is much busier than the lobby, with elaborately dressed guests walking around the dimly lit halls.

Angelo takes my hand and we follow the crowd towards a set of glass double doors.

   The party is smaller than I expected, but the dim light and ambiance make it feel much busier.

   Angelo leans his lips close to my ear as we walk. "Hang around the bar and mingle if you have to. If you spot Delafonse, find me as soon as possible."

  I nod and with that we go our separate ways, me to the bar and him to a denser party of the crowd.

I sit on a stool, carefully adjusting my dress and trying not to look to conspicuous. It isn't long before  a bartender notices me and asks me what I'd like.

   "A cosmo please." I return and he sets off to making it. He finishes my drink off with a curl of lemon and a flourish. I thank him and take a sip, already disappointed by the overly sweet cranberry flavor. But I down the drink any way; willing to take anything if it'll calm my nerves. I make sure to keep my eyes on the door though, in case Delafonse makes his entrance.

  When I finish, the same bartender places another drink in front of me. A simple tequila shot that I didn't order and I tell him that.

"It's from the gentleman across the bar there," He points out. "Red tie."

  I laugh a little to myself, recalling the nickname I gave Angelo before I knew his name. Looking where the bartender points, my small smile drops.