I spotted the Beaumonts following us in their car as Arthur and I pulled into the Imperial Hotel's entrance. My heart raced. Clara was likely eager to connect with me—her supposed benefactor "Miss Olsen"—at the banquet. Arthur, however, seemed unconcerned by our tail as he guided the Bentley toward the employee parking area.
"They won't find us here," he said, noticing my glance at the rearview mirror.
The valet took the keys, and Arthur led me inside. I expected us to head straight to the banquet hall, but instead, he directed me toward the elevator.
"Aren't we going to the event?" I asked, confused as we ascended to one of the top floors.
"Not yet." His voice was casual, but something in his eyes made my pulse quicken.
When the elevator doors opened to reveal a long, luxurious hallway, I felt a flutter of unease. Arthur stopped in front of a door marked "Presidential Suite" and swiped a key card.
"Wait," I blurted out as the door swung open. "Why are we here?"
