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“Third time’s the charm, right?” Mirabella smiles brightly.
“Well, you have quite an extensive list and seem to know what you want.” The four-page spreadsheet of “desirable qualities” didn’t leave any room for doubt.
With only twenty minutes left, I steal a glance at the wall clock. Despite the strangeness of my situation, the fact that I was allowed to return to New York granted me a semblance of freedom, albeit with some conditions. The only disruption to this freedom was Dmitri's abrupt intrusion into my apartment a month ago. But I persevered.
I push the memory of Dmitri's intrusion into a box, sealing it shut with the weight of many others I never want to revisit.
Although it was a false sense of freedom, I still noted the parts The Lion controlled. The office I was permitted to work from was owned by the Barone family. Although I didn’t know Alexander Barone personally, I’d met his daughter, Ara, only a week ago to find her an eligible bachelor despite rumors of her association with one of the Armani brothers—another family I was clearly advised to stay away from since the Italian boss owned most of Manhattan. So, I suspected even down where I worked, was under supervision and contract with someone The Lion had dealings with.
But at least it was something a little closer to home.
And I did find a spark of enjoyment being able to decorate my own office with a green feature wall, a dark olive long chair in the corner and a few potted plants.
It wasn’t much, but it was mine.
For now.
“What about someone younger this time?” Mirabella enthuses. “I see a lot on the Armani brothers or Ronald Welsh. Ooh, I don’t mind the looks of Dmitri Volkov. He attended a charity a few weeks ago, and I must confess I like what I see.”
My smile’s tight at the mention of Dmitri. She wasn’t the first client to suggest him, and it grated on my nerves every time because I in no way wanted to deal with him. And so he was always put at the back of the pile.
“I’ll rally my resources and make some suggestions,” I say, keeping the polite smile.
“Do you, by chance, do remote work?” she asks as she reapplies her lipstick.
“Remote in what way?”
“I’ve been invited to my sister’s wedding.” She rolls her eyes, and the jealousy is obvious. She combs over her long platinum blonde hair. “Say, for example, if I could get you on the list for the wedding, do you think you could scout for me then?”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Where is your sister’s wedding?”
“Texas.” She smiles and it’s almost blinding. I shouldn’t have asked because she’s acting as if I’ve already agreed.
“It’s not something I do usually.”
“Of course, I’m willing to pay for it all. A weekend away might do some good for your complexion,” she jests. Pale complexion jokes were often made because of my lack of a tan. With an American father and a Scandinavian mother, my sister and I had received her porcelain like skin and blonde hair. But we had my father’s brown eyes.
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“I insist,” she cuts me off again. “Have a think about it. Money is no barrier when it comes to love.” She laughs at herself as she stands, and for the first time, her tiny, bagged dog looks at me. Even the dog has an authority complex as it somehow stares down its nose at me.
“Continue sending me through options until then. I look forward to who you have in mind. I heard you’re the best since coming to town.”
I offer a polite smile. It’s true that my clientele built quickly as I had my reputation to lean back on from Moscow.
“Oh my gosh,” she enthuses and tries to seize my wrist. My reflexes are too sharp as I snatch it back, and there’s a moment of tension that ripples between us. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, dearie. I just can’t believe how beautiful that bracelet is. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. You must be a lucky woman!” She waves her finger back and forth and acts as if I’ve been holding out on her.
And that’s where The Lion’s branding works as a double-edged blade. Everywhere I go, people compliment me on it. This piece of jewelry that I’m never allowed to remove.
When I had the rose gold bracelet with an intricate placement of amethysts dusting on it appraised, and it came in at a stunning twenty thousand and I’d give anything to smash it into pieces.
Every time I’m complimented on it, I have to grit my teeth and say thank you to hide the reality of its meaning and hovering presence.
Ownership.
Shackle.
A flightless bird.
