A new identity cost. And she needed another new one to stay alive. “My payment, Mr. Mercer.” Mercer leaned back in his padded chair and pressed his steepled fingers to his lips. His brows drew together, his gaze crawling over her skin. She didn’t know where to put her hands, so she laced them in a loose knot over her belly and tried not to feel stupid. She’d dialed up something revealing and settled on flimsy Keme silk draped over her breasts from a silver collar. A matching thin belt circled her hips and dropped squares of silk over her thighs and mons. She didn’t feel comfortable in her nakedness. It wasn’t her usual work wear of a drab all-in-one industrial cleaning suit. Mercer’s gaze didn’t break from her and unease itched under her skin. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen her even remotely naked. “I knew Foster was hiding you inside that cleaning suit.” He tilted his head. “You know, we always have vacancies on the floor.” When she’d first applied for a position at Club Tier she’d considered it.
