Club Alpha Read Online Free PDF

amount of dishes into a dishwasher, which I run twice a week.
    I scan the toiletries one more time as I roll my travel clothing into a tight bundles, which I set inside my suitcase like sardines.
    White makes me look like a ghost. So I wear a red blouse that is such a deep scarlet, the fabric looks made of blood. The navy cloth pants never show a wrinkle, and the inseam skates the exact middle of the instep of my matching platform pumps. Today, I'm six feet, two with heels.
    A cropped blazer skims the soft waistband of the matching pants. The single thin chain of white gold with a floating heart nestled at the hollow of my throat is my only jewelry.
    I’m meeting Mr. Aros after an international flight that will leave me tired and drawn-looking.
    I have the fix—the makeup I've paid hundreds for. It conspires to make me look like I'm not wearing any, though I slather it on.
    Perfect.
    I pack it away so I'll look good for the flight and in case I meet anyone important.
    I pick up my smartphone and scroll through useless updates I keep in my head anyway.
    No social life— Gia's words hunt me down inside my skull. If I had a social life, I would need all the reminders for work stuff, because I'd be too busy living to remember them.
    I curse under my breath, stuffing my cell into my handbag. My eyes flick toward the window for one last look before I take off. Between high-rises, I catch a peek-a-boo of Puget Sound. It's only a corridor view, but it'd sold me on the condo.
    Someday I'll live where the water is all I see.
    The statement feels like a promise.
     
    *
     
    “More wine, miss?”
    I startle awake, my hand swinging out to catch the glass before it tumbles underneath the airplane seat.
    I rein in the scowl, coming back to myself in errant chunks of disorientation. I didn’t have wine. “No, thank you. But I'd love some water.”
    The flight attendant nods politely and retreats into the dim corner where they acrobatically prepare alcohol and bland airplane food.
    I shouldn't bitch. Roffe will be picking up the tab. How many cold-weather countries do we have where I can hop on a flight, talk up the newest outerwear to discriminating buyers, and hope they sign for a Roffe clothing line? It's more than a salary to me; it's a commission, as well. The money makes me feel secure. I have six years before true financial security. My trust fund garnered my acceptance into Club Alpha, but Gia's sponsorship allowed it now.
    My head lulls back against the headrest, and my gaze moves to the magnified portal windows as clouds float by like escaped cotton balls.
    A lowball in faceted pressed glass is set in front of me. The deep impressions of the glass fractures the light from the window into diamonds on the tray table. I raise it to my lips. Ice clinks faintly as I sip. I fight back the time zone change, dehydration, and everything else.
    Even with the quickest flight and an overnight stay in Amsterdam, it is still almost thirteen hours of seat time. And my rear is going numb.
    And why do they ply me with booze? God.
    I'm so grumpy. I should be excited to arrive in Oslo. I'll practice my native language and haunt sites I haven't seen since before college.
    Maybe I'll get a deal for Roffe, I muse, holding the chilled glass against my hot cheek.
    I kick off my heels and curl my toes, spinning the half empty glass on the smooth surface of my pop-out tray. My mind wanders to some of the things Zaire told me.
    Anytime, anywhere… the fantasy will play out. The fantasy is treacherous ground , he said.
    The fantasy will integrate so naturally into my life.
    I shut my eyes, thinking of Gia and all she's done for me—and been for me.
    Gia is wealthy and highly educated. She is the youngest woman in the state of Washington to receive her PhD in psychology. When she volunteered to mentor patients who were “unrecoverable,” Gia Township didn't know what she would begin when she was assigned my case.
    My thumb restlessly strokes the fine