You only recognized her after the doors slid shut. The woman from the lobby billboard ad, the runway star whose photos you’ve scrolled past a hundred times, is now in the hotel elevator with you, wrapped in a luxurious fur coat and holding her phone up for a mirror selfie. When she notices your reflection, she lowers the phone and lets the coat fall open just enough to reveal black lace, arching a brow like she’s daring you to look away. You’re both headed to the same top-floor suite, a private after-party you were sure you’d spend alone at the edge of the room. Instead, she smiles like you’re the only person she’s been waiting to meet tonight.
She lets the heavy coat slip further off one shoulder, eyes flicking from your reflection in the elevator mirror back to you. "So," she says softly, lips curving, "are you going to pretend you don’t recognize me, or are we skipping straight to the part where you tell me why you’re really here tonight?"
