him.
âSleep well?â she asked.
He just looked at her. His short brown hair was as disheveled as it had been the night before, though every part of his attire, from his plain collared shirt to his pressed black trousers, was fastidiously neat.
âThatâs called a question,â Corinne said when he didnât reply. âIn polite society, it involves an answer.â
His eyebrows shot up, and Corinne could detect a hint of what could have been a smile or a smirk around his mouth. The movement did nothing to soften the severe line of his jaw. The tousle of his hair made the angles on his face even more pronounced, and there was something etched in his features that she couldnât quite pinpoint. Like a gaunt hunger.
âI wasnât aware that I was in polite society,â he said.
âYou canât hold last night against us,â Corinne said, turning her attention away from his jawline and back to her toast. âNot every day here involves asylum escapes and police raids.â
âIâm not sure I believe that.â
Corinne smiled and hid the expression with another bite of toast. Now that sheâd had a few hours of sleep, she had decided to play nice with Gabriel Stone. Johnny wasnât an idiot, and he didnât let just anyone join his crew. If heâd hired Gabriel, there was a good reason for it.
âI thought weâd start with the tour,â Corinne said.
âDonât you want to finish your breakfast first?â
âNo need. Thereâs the stage, the backstage doorâthatâs where the musicians shoot the breeze when theyâre waiting for their set. Beside that is the kitchen door, which leads, predictably enough, to the kitchen. Youâve been to Johnnyâs office downstairs, and the other rooms down there are all private, aside from a few closets.â
âThorough,â he said drily.
Corinne ignored his tone and continued. âDanny runs the bar every night, but donât believe a word he says about me because he is a bitter, bitter man, and I am a darling. Iâm sure you met Gordon, our resident charmer. Heâs usually only on duty when the club is open, to keep drunk patrons from snooping. There used to be a show every night, but the new law complicates things.â
âIâd say police raids are more than just a complication.â
âDebatable. Anyway, Ada and I had it covered.â
âRight,â he said.
It wasnât the way he said it but his fleeting expression that gave Corinne pause. âWhat?â she asked.
He hesitated.
âLook,â she snapped. âIf youâve got a problem with Ada, thenââ
âI donât have a problem with Ada.â
âThen is it women in general who shouldnât be handling things?â
He sat back in his chair, obviously bemused. âI didnât say anything like that,â he replied.
Corinne eyed him and finished off her toast.
âSorry,â she said once she swallowed. âI guess Iâll let you actually say something stupid before I berate you for it.â
âAppreciate it.â
Corinne stood up. âNice chat,â she said. âNow if youâll excuse me, I have to change into something more suitable. Weâre meeting Ada at ten. Iâll explain on the way.â
Corinne dropped her dishes off in the kitchen and went downstairs. She and Ada didnât have a wardrobe in their room, so finding a dress that wasnât hopelessly wrinkled was a challenge, although Ada never seemed to have a problem. Corinne dug her maroon silk out of a crate. Not the right material for the season, but with its belted waist and gold thread trim, it was her most respectable dress. She pulled on stockings and her black suede kitten heels. Adaâs black felt cloche finished the ensemble, and Corinne grabbed her coat off the pile of clothes at the foot of her bed and ran out the door.
She made it
Harold Keith
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authors_sort
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Unknown
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