AllFreeNovel
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Use the elevator today.
My chest does a weird flip-flop thing, but I know I’m stupid for reading into it. There’s no way he’d be able to visit the building I work at. It’s too public. Too noticeable if I’m being watched. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see him again. I fell asleep in the early hours of the morning talking to him. When I woke up, my phone had died, and I was almost late because, for the first time in a long time, I’d slept in.
However, it doesn’t surprise me, that his message comes through as I’m finishing up for the day. At this point, I’m certain he has footage or has hacked into the building’s cameras or something. His timing for certain things cannot be coincidental alone.
I pack the last of my items and lock the office door behind me. It might be small, but it was my little piece of the world to claim. And I was grateful for the opportunity to have my own office space because had I mostly worked from home, I would’ve gone stir-crazy. My only saving grace was that I was still able to interact with people, even if they were my clients.
I try not to cloud it with the reality that I’m lucky at best for even being able to work. But part of me genuinely believes The Lion does it to fuck with me. As if it’s due to his kindness and mercy. As if I’m living a normal life when I’m so disassociated with it, it couldn’t be further from the truth. Sometimes, I don’t know what to believe anymore. It’s hard to keep my wits around someone who’s so good at mental fuckery.
I patiently wait for the doors to open, and when they, do I clench my jaw in an attempt to conceal my reaction.
“Howdy, sis.” Layla tips the pizza delivery hat she’s wearing.
I stand beside her silently. Partly because I’m trying not to laugh or stare at her get up. I wait nervously for the doors to close, just in case anyone is watching. Because I never know who or where they are. When they close, I pull her into a hug. I’m grateful for every moment I get to spend with her, considering how little time we’re given.
The floor buckles beneath our legs, and the elevator stops.
I pull back, terrified, as the elevator momentarily cuts out. “We’ve only got a few minutes. Strip.” Layla commands as she settles the pizza box on the ground, and I realize quickly this is part of the plan.
“Want to fill me in as to why you are wearing a pizza delivery outfit?” I ask as I begin to remove my clothes anyway. Layla and I had always been like this. At the drop of a coin we would follow each other’s suit, no questions asked. Of all of them, this might’ve been the strangest. But most likely because it held the highest stakes.
“So you know Arabella Barone, right?” she begins.
“The Italian Mafia Boss’s fiancée?” I clarify as I remove my knitted cream skirt.
“Yeah, her. Well, she’s like a real-life alias, and she gave me the idea the other day when she sat at the bar where I work. It gave me the idea for the pizza delivery outfit so we could swap.”
I kick my heels off, trying to process what she’s telling me. Ara is? Maybe that was the unsettling feeling I had from her. But there are a million other questions I have around that statement, and know that we definitely don’t have enough time to answer them all.
“Anyway, we’re swapping for the night,” she says, pulling out a blonde wig. “I fucking hate this wig, by the way. Isn’t your hair heavy?”
Guilt erupts; I’d moved so instinctually, knowing we had such little time that the repercussions of what we’re doing now creeps up on me. “This isn’t safe. We shouldn’t.” Because as much as I want it. That fluttering hope and taste of freedom fueling my life again, I don’t want to jeopardize her safety. Our clothes are already a tangled mess. I should’ve known she was up to something like this, but I’d fallen into immediate synchronicity with her.
“You’re curious about Dmitri’s club, aren’t you?” she asks. “I need the pantyhose too.”
I scrunch up my nose. “No, you’re not taking my pantyhose; that’s weird.”
She rolls her eyes, now only wearing her black lacey underwear and bra. “Considering the circumstances, I think it’s necessary. In the uniform’s left back pocket is an address and a key. Go to that address, change out of the pizza outfit, and then head to Lev. He’ll be waiting for you.”
I suck in a sharp breath. I want to fight her on it, but I also… want to go. I want to enter an untouched part of Dmitri’s world. This part that Layla has always been faithfully by his side for. Right now, I was envious of her for that. “Does he know I’m coming?”
She points up to the camera. “Who do you think organized this?” She tucks in the sweater and steps into the skirt. “Pantyhose now.” She snaps her fingers.
I grimace and turn my back to her. “Don’t look.”
She laughs. “Are you serious? I know more about the moles on your back than my own.”
“Shut up; I don’t have any moles on my back.” I scoot the thick pantyhose down.
“No, just on the right tit, right?”
“Hey!” I yell at her, and she begins to laugh as she adjusts her wig.
It’s happening so fast that I’m swept up into it. Pants. Black sneakers. Shirt.
Layla is dressed and pulls out a clip. She clips up my hair from behind, throws the delivery hat on, and takes a step back impressed with her handy work. She swaps our bags, so I’m stuck with the ugly leather one she pulled the hat out of.
“Now give me that ugly thing.” She points to my rose gold amethyst bracelet. I hesitate, guilt flooding me once again. It’s not like the harmless swaps we used to have. This has real consequences, and the idea of Layla being involved in that wrath because of me breaks me.
