Exposure • h.s.

CHAPTER9.

30 minutes before the deal.

The journey goes by quickly, although at some point we got stuck in traffic, which delayed us by about half an hour. Nellie doesn't seem concerned about the delay or the need to inform the client. With casualness, she announces: "we've arrived" as soon as we reach our destination.

The car engine turns off.

I can't see much outside, it's completely dark. There are no clear signs or signals to indicate where we are, so we could be in the city centre or in the middle of nowhere. We open the back door, and I realize we're in the parking lot of a building, surrounded by a few other cars that aren't as fancy as the one we arrived in.

The driver shows us the way, leading us to a side entrance, and we quickly enter through the emergency door. I'm the only one feeling a bit uneasy in this unusual situation, while Andrea and Nellie remain calm, probably having experienced similar situations before.

We walk down a long, dark hallway and come across a massive wood door. There's a doorbell next to the handle for requesting access. Nellie presses it quickly, and the door opens with a loud 'clack.'

We step inside, and to my surprise, we find ourselves in a... peculiar room. The walls are made of concrete and seem soundproofed. The room is plain, with a few posters hanging on the walls advertising concerts and upcoming events. I squint to read the text on some of them and manage to make out "Wells Fargo Center, PA." We're in Philadelphia.

It almost feels like a basement, although the bright, cold lights in the room give it a clean and sterile atmosphere.

A deep voice breaks the silence as it notices our presence in the room: "Ms. Price, welcome and good evening".
The voice belongs to a middle-aged man with average looks – graying hair, greasy face, and swollen hands. But his elegant attire, a black tuxedo, a large gold ring on his pinky, and intense green eyes catch my attention.

Nellie introduces me and encourages me to shake his hand.

"This is Mabel Donovan, she's the one who handled the whole project," she says. He politely kisses my hand, but it leaves a wet, slimy feeling that makes me queasy.

"Alright, Ms. Price," and he addresses all of us,
"please, ladies, have a seat."
We sit on plain steel chairs facing an empty table with only a pen and a green button in the middle. He presses the button, and with that, he says,
"I've just called my colleague who has closely managed the matter. He'll explain the specifics to Miss Donovan in detail. It's best for a fair and equal conversation."

Taken aback, I blurt out, "What do you mean?", and Nellie unexpectedly kicks me under the table, signaling me to be quiet and giving me a stern look.

The door behind us opens once again, after the man unlocks it from the inside with a button I assume is hidden under the table.

My attention is drawn to a captivating figure across the room: a young man with attractive features, brown hair flowing effortlessly. His piercing blue eyes hold a mysterious depth, as if holding secrets from another world. The way the light and shadows play on his sharp jawline adds an air of sophistication to his charm.

"Hello, everyone," he greets us. His voice is soft, velvety. I immediately feel a mix of admiration and nervousness as his blue eyes meet my hazel ones.

"Good evening, Mabel. My name is Louis Tomlinson."

I assign a name to the attractive stranger standing in front of me. He exudes a confident and gentle aura, with polite and accommodating manners. His eyes scan me, clearly trying to take in as many details as possible.