Alchemy of Secrets, page 18
“Dance with me.” The words, barely audible above the din of the bar, were followed by an uninvited hand on the small of Holland’s back.
“I’m sorry, I’m not really in the mood.”
“And I’m not really asking.”
The hand at her back moved possessively to her waist, confident fingers turning her until she was face-to-face with Adam.
Her heart kicked up nervously.
Adam smelled like citrus and vodka, and this close, Holland could see it wasn’t just his tie that looked loose and undone. Everything about Adam Bishop looked perfectly negligent and disreputable in that charming way only really attractive men could pull off.
“You’re drunk,” Holland blurted.
He grinned with an unfairly perfect smile. “It’s good to see you, too. I’m glad that mercenary didn’t kill you. And yes, I’m just swell. I didn’t almost die. Thank you so much for asking.” His hazy eyes sharpened, some of the intoxication slipping away and revealing a hint of something like anger.
Then he was spinning her around in the middle of the dance floor as he drawled, “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but I believe you actually owe me, for all that taking-a-bullet-for-you business.” Adam waved down a server before Holland could object.
She started to say, “I’m really sorry about the shooting. I made a terrible mistake and—”
“Hello, sir, what may I get for you?” The server cut in with a deferential nod toward Adam.
“Hi, yes, the lady would like to buy us some drinks. She’ll have a Shirley Temple with extra cherries.” He looked at Holland and winked. “And I’ll take a sidecar.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
For a moment it felt like a flashbulb second. Time stopped. Entirely. The bar looked like a still photograph. The background was a blur of grays and whites. Holland could see figures but not faces, except for Adam Bishop’s.
He was fallen-angel beautiful with his golden hair and devilish smirk. He was also drunk and cavalier. Adam was not the calculated villain Holland had always pictured, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a villain. In the book of Revelation, the devil was referred to as the great deceiver. What if Adam had deceived everyone—January, the Bank, Holland?
“You’re looking at me as if I’ve done something wrong,” he murmured.
“I just really hate Shirley Temples,” Holland said, because suddenly she didn’t know what to say. Should she ask if he was the devil? Would he tell her the truth? What then if he admitted it?
“The Shirley Temple was supposed to be a joke.” A sheepish smile played across Adam’s lips, and for a second, he looked so innocent. He looked like the sort of boy next door who would sneak in through your window and steal a few kisses, not make a deal for your soul.
“Good evening, folks,” cried the singer on the stage. “Before I get into my next song, I just want to remind you all about tonight’s special. Bartender Bernard is visiting from one of our sister hotels in Charleston, where he’s famous for making the perfect sidecar. I hope you all enjoy!”
The music started up again and Holland breathed a sigh of relief. “You ordered the sidecar because it was the special?”
A half smirk. “And it has a great name.”
“Have you ordered one before?”
Adam narrowed his hazy eyes. “Why all the questions?”
“No reason.” She started to pull away. Even if Adam wasn’t the devil, she couldn’t stay here with him. She needed to get somewhere safe to study her father’s screenplay pages. “I should let you get back to your—”
She caught a sudden flash of red out of the corner of her eye. Men wearing red ties, four of them, had entered the bar. The rest of their suits were still black and white, but somehow their ties were brilliant red.
The air in the bar immediately shifted.
The music on the stage stuttered.
The chatter of voices hushed.
The singer accidentally sang the wrong line of lyrics.
Adam was the only person in the room who didn’t seem to care. He pulled Holland back into a dance, giving her no choice but to wrap her arms around his neck, and when he spoke again his voice was almost playful. “I need you to tell me, did you somehow sneak in here without a key?”
“No—I have a key.”
“How did you get it?”
“It’s January’s.”
His eyes narrowed by a fraction. “Did she give it to you?”
“No, I found it.”
Adam gave her a look that made Holland think she’d given him the wrong answer, but there wasn’t time to explain. The red ties were at the edge of the dance floor now. People quickly scurried out of their way. Holland felt like she needed to run.
“Stay with me.” Adam held her a little closer. “If you don’t, those thugs will escort you from the Regal and prohibit you from ever returning.”
“And you think you can stop them?”
Adam scoffed, offended. Then he turned to the red ties and flashed the most confident smile Holland had ever seen.
The red ties stopped moving.
“Good evening, Mr. Bishop,” said the broadest red tie in the group. He was at least twice as wide as Adam, yet Holland swore there was a distinct tremor in his voice. The three others flanking him didn’t say a word, just stood there, rigid.
Adam made a vaguely annoyed sigh. “Did you need something?” He let the hand on the small of Holland’s back dip lower and lower.
A blush crept up her cheeks.
“Please forgive the intrusion,” said the red tie who’d spoken before. “Unfortunately, the young woman you’re dancing with is not a key holder or a registered guest.”
“Then put her on my guest list,” Adam said lazily.
“But—” one of the other red ties piped up.
“You heard what he said,” the first red tie cut in. “Forgive us once again for the intrusion, sir. Can I have some complimentary drinks sent to your table?”
Adam ordered two drinks, which weren’t sidecars or Shirley Temples. Then he waved a dismissive hand, and the red ties left as quickly as they’d come.
On the stage, the music returned to its regular tempo. Everyone was back to dancing and chattering, as if nothing had happened. But Holland felt shaken. She unwrapped her arms from Adam’s neck. “Thank you for your help. But I think I can manage on my own from here.”
Adam grabbed her hand and reeled her back before she could step away. “I don’t think you understand how this works. You’re my guest, which means if you want to stay in this hotel, you need to stay with me for the next twenty-four hours.”
“Why twenty-four hours?”
“It’s hotel policy. Official key holders can stay as long as they want, but guests are only allowed to stay twenty-four Regal hours. So, until then, I say either we get drunk at this bar, or”—Adam looked her straight in the eye, and every hint of charm and carelessness vanished—“you tell me what happened after I got shot and why you look as if you’re running for your life right now.”
Holland froze. She was tempted to tell him something along the lines of what she’d said to Eileen. She’d only met Adam yesterday; trusting him didn’t make any sense. But her sister trusted him. Her sister had sent him.
Holland had a lot of questions about a lot of things, but she knew all the way down to her bones that her sister loved her. Whatever secrets she’d been keeping, it was for a good reason, and if she’d sent Adam Bishop to keep Holland safe, that was for a good reason, too.
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Holland said. “But I don’t think we should talk here.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The color returned as soon as Holland stepped into the elevator with Adam. There were just two buttons.
Main floor
Penthouse
Holland wondered what kind of money or power a person must have to own the key to a penthouse in a place like this.
A bell chimed.
The door opened.
And the enormous space on the other side answered her question.
More.
Adam had more power and more money than she could have imagined. She’d sensed it in the bar. From the way people responded to him, it was clear he was more than someone who worked for the Bank, which made her wonder why he even worked for the Bank.
Across from her, a row of perfect windows looked out onto the most extraordinary skyline she’d ever seen. Adam didn’t even glance at it. He dropped his key in a bowl by the elevator, before shucking off his velvet jacket and tossing it onto a taxidermy fox.
Now that he was back to color, she could see his slacks were black and his jacket was a striking red velvet. In fact, the entire penthouse was a striking shade of something, all deep aquamarine, rich emerald-green, shimmering obsidian-black, lines of brilliant gold, and touches of creamy alabaster. Holland wondered if this was actually Adam’s preferred decor, or if the hotel rooms only came in bold, rich colors.
It was the sort of place you weren’t supposed to wander around and touch things, but that was exactly what Holland wanted to do. She half expected to find fancy art on the walls—the kind that had been stolen from museums years ago—but what she found was even better. There was a row of some of the rarest movie posters she’d ever seen. A Metropolis poster in German, King Kong from 1933, Frankenstein from 1931, The Black Cat from 1934, and her favorite, a Casablanca poster from a 1947 release in France.
Her father had mentioned the rare Metropolis poster in one of his old interviews, and Holland had fallen down a rabbit hole lined with old film posters after that.
She wanted to ask Adam about the collection, but her attention snagged on a framed black-and-white picture sitting on top of the minibar. It showed two men with arms around each other’s shoulders. One of them was Adam, wearing the kind of pure-happiness wide smile that could sometimes look goofy in pictures but looked incredible on him. He was dressed much like he was just now, in a white shirt with an undone bow tie around his neck, and next to him was a guy in a white dinner jacket who looked exactly like the man Holland had seen at the Roosevelt.
Her skin prickled as she remembered the familiar way he’d looked at her, and she couldn’t help picking up the picture. “Who is this?”
Adam’s smile immediately vanished. “That’s my older brother, Mason.” He looked at the photo almost as if he’d forgotten it was there, the sort of thing he’d passed by every day without really seeing it, but now that he remembered it, he wished he hadn’t.
Clearly, it wasn’t something Holland should ask more about. But it felt like too strange a coincidence for her to just set the picture down as if it was nothing. “Do you know if he knows my sister?”
“No,” Adam said, almost protectively. “Why?”
“I saw him yesterday.”
Adam stiffened. “Where?”
“At the Hollywood Roosevelt.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“No. He was on the mezzanine, and I was in the lobby. I just remember because he looked at me as if he knew me—like really knew me—which didn’t make sense until you said he was your brother, and I thought maybe he mistook me for January.”
“My brother just has an effect on people.” Adam glanced again at the photograph. His eyes were still a little unfocused, but they seemed to sharpen as he spoke. “When I was a kid, I idolized him. He was the center of the universe wherever he went. Mason always said the right thing and did the right thing. I thought he was the kind of good I would never be.” Adam went quiet in a way that made her feel as if there was a but followed by another sentence he didn’t want to say.
“What happened?” Holland asked.
“It’s a long story, one that’s not particularly flattering for either of us. But it ends with me no longer idolizing him.” Adam took the picture from Holland, and placed it face down on the minibar. “So,” he said, in a new tone that made it clear he was done with the subject. “Tell me what you think about this place.” He dropped onto the sofa. It was a deep aquamarine velvet, shaped like a horseshoe, and it seemed to say, I’m bigger and bolder and fancier than your practical beige couch.
“Um, it’s very nice.”
Adam made a wounded face. “Nice is such a disappointing word. But, honestly, it is a little much for me. I don’t spend a lot of time at the Regal.”
Holland eyed him skeptically.
“You don’t believe me?”
“I don’t know. You seemed to be having a good time at the bar downstairs.”
“I can have a good time anywhere.” Adam lounged back and threw his arms wide across the cushions. “After I was shot, the Bank brought me here to heal, and I’ve spent a lot of time at that bar. That’s when I heard the rumors that you were the girl with the Alchemical Heart.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but you were misinformed. I don’t have it.”
“Good.” Adam’s drunken playboy grin returned. “We can have some fun now.”
Holland frowned.
It seemed to her that everyone wanted the Alchemical Heart. Why didn’t Adam? Her eyes wandered around the lavish penthouse once more. This place must have taken up at least half of the Regal’s top floor, if not all of it, and he hadn’t even deigned to look out the window. He clearly had the money, and he probably had all the shiny toys, but he really didn’t seem to care about it.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Adam said. “I’m not indifferent to the power of the Alchemical Heart, but searching for that thing is a good way to die, and I really like being alive. I also really enjoy not being shot.”
“Is that why you didn’t come looking for me after you recovered?”
Adam cocked his head to the side. “Are you hurt that I didn’t ride to your rescue on a white horse?”
Hurt was not the word Holland would have used, but she did suddenly feel worried. Her hands went to the charm around her neck.
She had just assumed that Adam had brought her up here to help her, and that once she told him about her treasure hunt, he would fully be on board. But now she realized Adam’s idea of help might only go as far as getting her drunk in this hotel room. For a fraction of a second, she missed Gabe, but only for a second. She refused to think about him longer than that.
“I’m not hurt,” she finally said.
“Are you mad? Because you look kind of pissed.” Adam reached toward the coffee table, then frowned when he seemed to realize there weren’t any drinks. He shoved up from the sofa and started toward the minibar. “You want a drink?”
“I want to find the Alchemical Heart.”
Adam shook his head. “That’s a good way to get killed, and your sister asked me to keep you alive.”
“In that case, you need to help me find it,” said Holland. “The Watch Man called me yesterday.”
Adam froze. “What did he say?”
“He told me I’d die at 11:59 on Halloween night, unless I find the Alchemical Heart.”
Adam slowly ran a hand over his jaw and cursed under his breath. “So, let me get this straight. You’re going to die tomorrow and you still don’t want a drink?”
Holland picked up a pillow from the sofa and threw it at him. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” Adam said, but he’d stepped away from the minibar and now looked as if he was trying to sober up. “What do you need from me?”
“I thought you just said looking for the Alchemical Heart was a good way to die.”
“I did, but if I let anything happen to you, then your sister will kill me.” After everything Holland had learned about January in the past twenty-four hours, she had a feeling Adam was being more literal than figurative, and she loved her sister dearly for it.
“If you’re really willing to help me,” Holland said, “then we need to find the Watch Man.”
Adam looked at her, bemused. “Why?”
Holland considered telling him about her father’s screenplay. Adam’s lack of interest in the Alchemical Heart made her feel better about trusting him. But she also felt as if she couldn’t share her father’s last words with anyone.
“Would you believe me if I said I have a hunch?”
“Not even a little.”
“What if I said I don’t know where the Alchemical Heart is, but I have a clue from a very reliable source that we need to go see the Watch Man?”
“Better. But if I’m going to risk my life to get mixed up in this, I need a little more than that.” His gaze cut to her satchel.
Holland wondered if perhaps he was more sober than she thought. Or maybe this was just him turning off playboy Adam from the bar and turning on the Adam her sister had sent to watch out for her.
“I can’t give you more right now,” Holland said. “I’m trusting you because my sister trusts you, but I’m going to need a little more than that, if you want to know everything.”
Adam smirked. “How about I take you to the Watch Man, and we can renegotiate after that?”
“So you know where he lives?”
Adam looked instantly insulted. “I know where to find everyone. Why do you think your sister asked me to watch out for you?”
“That’s what I keep asking myself.”
This earned her an actual grin, the kind that made his hazel eyes light up. “This world you’re in now is not very welcoming to outsiders. I know I’m not the most responsible person, but I can get you through any door you need.” He said it the way someone else might have accepted a dare, as if he couldn’t wait to show her how good at this he was, as if the idea of her dying was just a challenge, not an actual threat.
Holland didn’t know if she found his cockiness unnerving or reassuring. Maybe a little bit of both. There was something about Adam Bishop, some unnameable quality that made Holland feel as if either he was going to be her unlikely drunken savior or he was going to be the end of her.
