Within her office, surrounded by screens, Ellen was a picture of relaxed confidence. Tall and slim, she moved slowly and deliberately; a languid calmness that suggested a particular care in everything she did. Long blonde hair framed a pretty face, adorned by a bright smile, and those blue eyes. Piercing blue, they seemed to transcend mere colour; glowing almost, as they fixed you and drew you in. It was impossible not to stare into them, but they could be as chilling and cold as they were seductive. Elegant in a white dress and jacket, Ellen could combine business-like and sexy effortlessly. That she knew it only added to her dangerous allure.

            Never one to spend time talking about herself, Ellen revealed details only to those prepared to look closely enough. The clues were there alright, but subtle enough to be camouflaged by her beauty and dismissed by her stare. Hidden in plain sight was her name, St Peters, a fabrication and yet still a nod to her heritage. It was an acknowledgement that only the trained ear could pick up from her otherwise flawless accent. Clear and precise diction of no definition; European yes, but geographically neutral.

            Ellen had grown up in St Petersburg. Neither rich nor poor, she was raised by her grandmother, an old-fashioned Russian with modern ambitions for her girl. Ellen worked hard; often alone, but never lonely. Loved and yet pushed hard, she was academically superb and socially observant to an acute degree; so much so that she had finished college long before she felt really tested. A knack for languages opened the door to opportunities abroad and she embraced a life of travel gladly.

            Fun and knowledge, drink and men, she learned that some of these came at a cost, but she learned. Her psychology degrees became redundant as she moved on mentally, yet behind the confident façade lay insecurities and doubt. What if others could see in her what she could see in them? It was the thought that first troubled, and then haunted her, as she retreated behind a stare. Successful as she was, the offer of the job from Mr Steele seemed a godsend to the twenty-four-year-old. A chance to exploit her expertise whilst being fully protected. No wonder she jumped at the chance.

            Ellen’s office was at the rear of the Hôtel de Rêves, private and quiet, away from the rooms. She had been the manager for four years and was both the final word and the full stop. Twenty-eight now, she was confident in her abilities and sure of people; from their movement and speech, to their clothes, or even the signatures on a cheque. She had always known she could improve on her innate ability, but in the past four years she had honed it to a fine art, exceeding all expectations.

            The screens surrounding her were a useful tool, feeding a stream of images from the CCTV cameras that were embedded in every room. All guests were told about the cameras and all guests were reassured. No one would ever see them or spy on them. They were purely for security purposes. The statement was almost completely true and, in Ellen’s mind, true enough to be of no concern. Only she looked at the coverage directly. After all, she was the manager and she had to know what was going on; she had to study to perfect her skills.

            True, Mr Steele, the owner, had formulated the plan, but it is hard to see how it could have worked so well without Ellen. He had seen that the feedback forms had pointed to a certain amount of disappointment from some people, but it was Ellen who identified the reasons. Mainly, this was due to a lack of excitement in many of the dreams. For many it was not enough to inhabit someone else’s head, it had to be an interesting head. Ellen made it her business to seek out those with interesting minds, be they damaged or twisted, it didn’t matter. She had the ability to look behind your eyes and almost read your soul. She had looked into Andrew and seen all she needed to see within those dark shadows.

Next Chapter: CHAPTER FOUR - HOOKED