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I don’t deserve this.
I want help. I want to be saved.
But I’m doing everything I can to protect them instead.
Layla hugs me tightly, and as she does, I watch the back of Dmitri, who awkwardly shuffles in the narrow seats to sit in economy. Too big. Too strong. Too obvious. Too… everything.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Layla gushes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know when you told me you wanted space when you went to Russia; I should’ve known better. Has he hurt you?” Her hand runs over my hair and tears well in my eyes.
More than she’ll ever know, but separating me from my family, from her, had been the most excruciating part of it all.
“You can’t go through with this idea. You need to give me that bracelet back,” I demand, trying to remind myself to be the voice of reason as my gaze lands on it around her wrist. My throat constricts. I don’t like it on her. As much as I want out of my prison, I won’t let my sister replace me and pay the price.
She releases me and kicks back in Dmitri’s chair like a queen, ignoring my plea. They’re as stubborn as each other; their minds are clearly already made up about this switch. The hostess returns and makes a double take of my sister and me wearing identical clothing. But she says nothing as she places the spicy margarita down. “Ooh, can you make me one, but just a normal margarita?” Layla asks as she takes a mouthful of the champagne that Dmitri had left behind.
“Of course.” The hostess leaves, looking confused. The transaction is bizarre. I imagine most people would’ve been asked to go back to their seat or that spicy margaritas couldn’t be made at eight in the morning. But I suppose anything with Dmitri’s name attached to it, alias or not, he could have.
“Cheers,” Layla says as she holds the drink in the air as if nothing was wrong in the world.
I crumple into myself, confused. I’d essentially ghosted her for five years, was a prisoner with little worth, and both she and Dmitri act like no time had gone by. And I know they are acting like this for my sake. Was I so obviously fragile that they knew I’d crumble otherwise?
“Layla. I don’t want you doing this. I really don’t think I can get out of this situation, and it puts you, Mom, and Dad at risk,” I say, looking at my hands placed on my lap ashamed.
A somber tension runs between us. “You’re not fighting this on your own anymore. Every battle we’ve always fought together.”
“This is different.” I would never go into detail with Layla as to what I’d done, seen, or why I’d relinquished to put up a fight. All I understood was I had to push them away, yet the selfish part of me clung to them. “He’ll hurt you too.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“Pfft. I can handle myself.”
“No!” I urge. Because for all her tough talk and fighting abilities, even she would be out of her depth. “It’s different this time. These types of men...” My gaze flicks back in Dmitri’s direction, and I can barely see between the curtains that have been slightly left open. He looks like hell on fire as the child beside him bounces on their chair, knocking an elbow into his cheek. “These types of men are dangerous, Layla. The Lion won’t let me go. There is no walking away.”
“Fuck. That,” she blatantly states and stretches her legs comfortably in the aisle when she notices the older couple in front of us looking in our direction. “What the fuck are you looking at,” she barks, and they’re so affronted that they whip their head back forward. I’m ashamed of her behavior, and yet I want to laugh, the nervous energy rattling me. She’d always been as subtle as a bull in a China shop. But for those who she loved, she’d fight tooth and nail for them.
She reaches for my hand, and I do all I can not to cry. I want to harden my resolve to push her away like I’ve had to all this time, but I’m exhausted, defeated and scared. And not that I can ever confess that to her because I know she’ll do something reckless, but this is the most I can do right now to pretend I’m okay.
“I am not enough on my own, Elanee. But Dmitri is. All I can do is swap with you. Maybe that’s why we were born to look similar. If this was fate’s hand at play and if this is the only role I can play, I’ll take it, even if it kills me. You would do the same for me. Don’t take away my right to try and protect my younger sister.”
She is only older by fourteen minutes.
She continues. “It’s only two days. I can handle a bunch of chums at a wedding, get your client drunk, and point her into the direction of the richest-looking dude. All men are useless anyway, so it’ll be easy,” she jokes, and this time, a shaky breath rattles out of me; somehow, her confidence eases my own tension. “Except for maybe that one.”
Layla’s gaze drifts into Dmitri’s direction, who is currently doing his best to ignore the inquisitive child who’s now playing with his hair despite the mother chastising her.
I try to find the effort to argue with her, but my mouth snaps shut in the delicate way she’s looking at me. She leans over and grabs my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t know and couldn’t help sooner.”
“This wasn’t your fault.” My voice breaks.
It wasn’t Dmitri’s either, but it was part of my resolve to hate someone other than myself for getting into this position.
I admire my sister, where Layla has color in her cheeks, a genuine smile, and a twinkle of zest in her gaze; I was empty, discarded, and withering away with ghosts that haunt me every waking hour.
“Before we get off, we need to swap purses, and you can tell me the bits that I need to know in case I come into contact with any of The Lion’s men. Oh, and I have a change of clothes for you as well. Until then, can you please enjoy a drink with your sister?”
A knot in my stomach twists. One night. Was it too high of a gamble? And yet, when staring at my demanding sister, all I want to do is cry because I want this. To be with her. And maybe it was selfish to let her convince me it was okay. But I knew that I would be willing to die for her; in fact, I’d already conceded and thought I might.
But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can take a breath.
Hope.
