I stared at the screen as another text came through from the front desk.

“His credit card was declined at the pavilion bar. He is demanding to speak to the manager.”

I looked back through the glass at Vivian and Claire, who were now laughing and clinking their glasses together.

“Enjoy your lunch,” I whispered to myself.

I turned away from the kitchen doors and walked back into the quiet, dimly lit service corridor.

The walls here were painted a neutral gray, far from the bright luxury of the public areas.

As I walked toward the administrative lift, I heard the heavy clanking of the elevator doors opening at the end of the hall.

Heavy, angry footsteps echoed against the concrete floor.

I stopped, waiting by the metal fire door.

Daniel stepped out of the lift.

His silk tie was slightly crooked, and his collar was damp with sweat.

He was muttering to himself, his fingers clawing at the screen of his phone.

When he raised his head and saw me standing by the fire door, he froze.

His eyes narrowed, shifting from surprise to immediate irritation.