Chapter 29
TWENTY-NINE
The fluorescent lights in the employee hallway of the Heights are way too bright against the beige walls, and the faint hum of the ventilation fills the silence between Ace and me. I glance down at the red and black uniform I’m wearing, which almost gives me PTSD, and tug at the hem of the shirt.
At least this time around, it fits perfectly and has no bullet holes.
Next to me, Ace fidgets, his hand darting to the waistband of his slacks for the fifth time in as many minutes. Unlike mine, his uniform is clearly not his size. The shirt clings to his chest and shoulders, while the pants, God help him, leave little to the imagination.
Ezra dropped us off at the employee entrance around the back and is waiting there while Ace and I try to figure out if the badge I lifted will get us into the electrical control room.
“My balls feel like they’re being suffocated,” Ace complains, and I stifle a snicker as he yanks at the crotch of his pants yet again. “Don’t laugh, Trouble.”
“I wasn’t laughing.”
“Sure you weren’t.” He shoots me a sidelong glare, his eyes filled with mock indignation.
I lower my voice, leaning in to tease, “Want me to massage them later? Might help.”
“Can you stop trying to make me hard so these pants get even snugger and more uncomfortable?”
“Right, sorry.”
He shakes his head, muttering about troublemakers under his breath, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes as he glances around the corridor.
The blonde wig I’m wearing feels odd against my scalp, the synthetic strands brushing my shoulders.
Levi had dug it out for me, claiming he bought it years ago after a hairdresser botched his haircut.
“Vintage Levi,” he’d said with a dramatic flourish as if that was supposed to make me feel better about wearing it.
But with the wig, I barely recognized myself in the mirror earlier. And that’s the point. Even though we’re in the depths of the employee section of the Heights, we’re not taking any chances.
Ace tugs at his pants again, groaning softly under his breath. I press my lips together, trying to hold back another laugh.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” he mutters.
“Just a little,” I admit, grinning. “But you look good. Snug, but good.”
“Great.” We walk down the next hallway, and he adds, “Now stop distracting me before I walk into a wall.”
“Here,” I whisper, nodding toward a steel door with Main Electrics written on it and a key-card reader on its side. It almost blends in with the rest of the employee hallway, but there’s a faint hum of machinery seeping through the walls.
“This better work,” Ace mutters, pulling the stolen key card from his pocket.
“We’re here to find that out.”
He swipes the card, and the reader blinks green with a beep. Then, the sound of the lock clicking echoes in the hall.
Holy shit.
“Holy fuck,” Ace almost voices my thoughts. “I didn’t think this would—”
“Shh!” I hiss, pushing the door open and grabbing his sleeve. “Get in!”
We file into the room, and I stop in my tracks, blinking at the sheer chaos in front of us.
The walls are lined with panels covered in switches, dials, and blinking lights.
A giant breaker box dominates one side, and wiring snakes through open panels and into the ceiling.
It’s like walking into the control center of a spaceship, and I instantly feel out of my depth.
“Woah,” I breathe out, staring at the overwhelming array. “That’s way too many…”
“Yeah…” Ace agrees, scanning the room with wide eyes.
He steps forward, his fingers trailing over one of the panels as if trying to make sense of it.
“We just need the ones that control the lights on the facade of the hotel.” He moves along the wall, his eyes darting from label to label.
“Okay, see here?” He points at a cluster of switches.
“You have to bypass this one and reroute through this panel to get access to the facade lights.”
“Okay.” I step back, holding up my hands. “I could never do that. You’ll have to handle it, or we’re not putting it in the show.”
He pauses, frowning, clearly weighing his options. “But it would be such a nice touch to spread the evidence on the Heights. Would feel like fucking karma.”
“It’s dangerous,” I counter, pointing at whatever he just pointed out. “And apparently difficult.”
He shrugs. “Not as dangerous as the car flying between rooftops, but like Koen said, we’re here to make a show, not just a statement.”
“Fine.” I hesitate, biting my lip. “You do this. I’ll handle the Plaza and get the car ready for Koen.”
“I don’t like—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“We can bicker about who does what later. Do we have everything we need here?”
He sighs, pulling out his phone and taking a picture of the switches. “Yes.”
“Then let’s fucking get out of here.”
We quietly slip out of the maintenance room, closing the door behind us, and head toward the employee exit.
Nicholas suggested we come here in the morning, explaining that it’s the best time—most partygoers are still asleep, tourists are out exploring, and it’s the shift with the fewest employees around.
It’s good for Ace, too, with things less hectic. He did so well, and I can’t help but feel impressed by how well he navigated his anxiety.
Outside, the fresh air is a welcome relief after the stuffy corridors. Ezra’s Toyota waits near the back entrance, engine idling softly. Ace gives me a nod, his jaw tight, but his posture is relaxed enough that I know he’s feeling okay.
If Ace can face his fears like this, I can too.
I glance down, my fingers brushing over my bracelet before I breathe in, exhale, and climb into the back seat.
As I settle in, it hits me—it’s getting easier.
The tightness in my chest is less severe, the fear quieter. I’m doing this step by step, and I feel a spark of pride in the realization.
“Hey,” I greet Ezra as Ace follows.
“Oh, finally,” Levi says dramatically, almost making me jump. Apparently, Ezra’s on the phone with him, and his voice fills the car through the speakers. “You two took forever. Were you making out in there? Did you rip those horrid uniforms yet? Please tell me you did.”
Ezra’s stoic expression cracks slightly. “No, Dove, they’re intact.”
“Shame,” Levi replies with an exaggerated sigh. “Though, Ric, you really should just rip your shirt off next time. It would distract Veronica and please me.”
“Dove,” Ace drawls, leaning back in his seat. “Are you flirting with me, or is this a new form of torture?”
“Both. But flirting is all I can give you. I belong to the stud in the driver’s seat.” Levi replies smoothly. “Ezra, darling, are you blushing again? Please say yes.”
“I’m not.” Ezra’s jaw tightens, but there absolutely is a blush.
God, I love this.
“Oh, but you are.” Levi practically purrs. “I bet you’re gripping the steering wheel, trying not to smile. Don’t fight it, baby. It’s okay to admit you love me.”
Ezra clears his throat, his knuckles whitening on the wheel. “Dove, can you focus? Are we still on track for the next phase?”
“Yes, Captain Killjoy, everything’s fine.” Levi laughs. “Sylus and I have it under control, which you will see when you come back here in a few. But don’t think I missed how you dodged your confession of love. It’s rude, really. My heart is so fragile.”
“You’re impossible,” Ezra mutters, but there’s the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. “See you at home.”
“Drive safely for me, Ezy baby. I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Ezra mutters as if he’s uncomfortable saying it in front of us before hanging up and driving out of the parking lot and onto the main road.
I pull my phone out and type a quick message to Sylus, even if I’m sure Levi will inform him that we’re on our way home.
We’re done. Heading home.
Barely a second later, my phone buzzes with his reply.
Sylus
I need a selfie of you in that wig.
I roll my eyes but smirk as I glance at Ace. “Sylus wants a picture of me in the wig.”
“No wonder,” he replies dryly. “You look like a budget Marilyn Monroe.”
“Gee, thanks,” I shoot back, leaning in closer to him and lifting the phone, snapping a selfie of the two of us. The blonde wig is slightly askew, and Ace is smirking with his best unbothered expression.
I send it to Sylus, feeling a little too amused with myself. A moment later, my phone buzzes again.
Not with Ric in it. Just you.
I think I have enough pictures of you with other guys’ faces in them.
I don’t stifle the laugh that comes out of me, thinking about the selfie I sent him from Nicholas’s phone yesterday.
At least this time it’s my face and not my pussy.
I miss your pussy.
It’s 10 a.m.
When does your pussy open then?
Sylus…
Fine, but I need another selfie with only you in it.
Please.
I grumble under my breath but relent, angling the phone for another shot. This time, I pop a button on the uniform, letting the top gape open to tease with a hint of cleavage. When I press the button, Ace leans over, chuckling low in his throat as he catches sight of the picture.
“Subtle.”
“Oh, shut up,” I mutter, sending the selfie to Sylus.
For a few minutes, there’s nothing. No witty comeback, no snarky reply, and the silence feels almost ominous. Then my phone buzzes, and the screen lights up with a video message.
I open it, and the first thing I hear is Sylus’s low, breathless moan, followed by my name falling from his lips like a prayer. My eyes widen as the video plays, the unmistakable sound of him jerking off filling the space. “Oh, for fuck’s sake…” I hiss, fumbling to turn it off.
Ezra groans loudly from the driver’s seat. “I really didn’t need to know how he sounds.”
“Sorry,” I mutter, shoving the phone face down into my lap, my cheeks burning.
Ace, on the other hand, laughs softly beside me, his shoulders shaking. “Classic.”
I shoot him a glare. “You enjoy the fuck out of this, huh?”
“Immensely,” he replies, his grin widening.
In retaliation, I grab him through the too-tight fabric of his uniform pants. His laughter cuts off with a groan as he leans his head back against the seat.
What the hell am I doing?
I didn’t even think about it, I just acted.
Before I can pull my hand back and apologize, he places his over mine, holding it there. “Don’t.”
I grin, squeezing the bulge that’s noticeably harder now. “Oh, did Sylus’s video make you hard?”
“Nope.” He grins. “But it’s not like it bothers me.”
“Really?” I shoot back. “Has he sent you the selfie of me sucking his dick too?”
Ace sits up straighter. “Too? There’s a selfie?”
“Forget it,” I mutter, yanking my hand back and crossing my arms.
I sink into the seat, glaring at the window to avoid Ace’s amused expression.
Sylus, you little fucker.