𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

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—𝐴𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑖—

𝐈

𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈 𝐀𝐃𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 blazer as she looked into the staff bathroom mirror.

It was a pretty big difference from her usual chef uniform. A white button-up that was tucked into a pencil skirt, and a black blazer that had her name badge pinned to it. She liked this much better—plus, she could keep her hair down and she didn't have to wear a stupid hat. It definitely wasn't as comfortable, but that was just about the smallest sacrifice she'd have to make.

She glanced at her watch. There was a few minutes left until she had to meet Alphonso and Bobby. She made sure there wasn't any lipstick on her teeth, fixed her hair, and deemed that to be good enough. Queenie had warned her that she had to look presentable—now, she would be in front of the clients, no longer hidden in the kitchen where a sweaty face and frizzy hair was acceptable.

She passed the kitchen on the way to the elevator. They were in a complete frenzy—this was pretty much rush hour, and she couldn't be more thankful that she wasn't one of the ones hurrying to get something out of the oven or nearly getting burned by frying oil.

Bobby and Alphonso were already at the elevator by the time she got there, and Alphonso shoved a tray of champagne-filled flutes into her hands. She greeted Bobby, though the only acknowledgement he gave her was a glance before he looked down—she didn't blame him; threatening him probably didn't get them off on the best foot.

The elevator doors opened. She followed the other two in, her eyes focused on the tray she was carrying. The last thing she wanted was to fuck up in the first minute of her new position and get fired. This was all she had been working toward for the last month and a half, after all.

There were four levels to choose from: the basement, restaurant, VIP Room—which was the button that Alphonso pushed—and the last option was just symbolised by the crown of Kings. She supposed that was reserved for Queenie and the people of her choosing.

A song began to play—one by Tina Turner, though she couldn't name it. She wasn't sure whether or not the music comforted the silence or made it more awkward.

She didn't move her head, but her eyes darted toward Bobby, who was staring straight at the golden doors, the rest of his body stiff. Her gaze went over his slender frame. With only a glance, she never would've guessed he was a boxer. Seeing Kong in action, however, proved that her eyes could easily deceive her.

She returned her stare to the metal in front of her. There was a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach.

When the VIP Room light finally lit and the elevator dinged, the doors opened.

What lay beyond was a feast for her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in—much less seen—a room so elegant. It oozed a richness that she could only dream of.

And as big as the room was, it was packed with people—the highest of the upper class. The ones sitting had steak-filled plates in front of them, while the ones standing just sipped from their wine glasses and chatted.

The walls were lined with velvet curtains and large, gold-framed portraits. The middle of the room was a lower floor, accessed by a short set of stairs, where many of the clients sat at small, round tables draped in golden tablecloths. A large chandelier hung just above it, and that lit the room in yellow along with the lamps fixed against the walls.

On the upper floor were booths and couches, most of them full of suited men. In the corner was a jazz band, in the middle of a song. Security guards stood along the sides of the room, each distanced a few feet away from each other. Both Aditi and Bobby were not excluded from their suspicious stares.

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