27. Elanee
27
ELANEE
I reply to my emails in the office, surprised by how quickly I’ve become in demand and received recommendations. It’s obvious a lot of people are looking for love in New York and I’ve tapped into a market that’s been neglected for far too long. Even with a few companies as competition—people want the love of their lives and want it now.
I receive a text message on the burner phone.
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.
Her hand rests on my arm, pulling me from my haunting thoughts. “How many times do I need to tell you that this is not your burden alone? We don’t have much time.” She extends her hand, expecting me to place the bracelet in it.
I swallow, trying to clear what has suddenly become a dry throat. I attempt to push away the tumble of nerves and restraints. But the thought of seeing Dmitri… of seeing more of his world before I can no longer be a part of it is too tempting. I unclasp the bracelet, feeling naked without it. I then hesitantly reach for the necklace Dmitri gifted me, and am more reluctant to hand it over.
“The pizza delivery goes to level four, office fifteen, by the way,” she instructs.
My jaw drops. “Wait, this is an actual order?” I ask, shocked.
She picks up the pizza box. “Yeah, pepperoni. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would you?” She places it in my hand and tries not to laugh as she looks me up and down. “Yeah, you were always better cut to be the princess; it just doesn’t suit you.” She laughs as she pulls out my lipstick and applies it. She looks from the mirror in the elevator to me.
That’s when I realize her make-up is fairly similar to mine today despite us both having distinct styles. “How did you know what I looked like today?” I ask incredulously.
My phone in her purse buzzes, and I go pale. She pulls out the burner phone. “Okay we only have thirty seconds.” She hands it to me. I look at the screen where Dmitri sent a text message that says. ‘Tick, Tock.’
I’m torn yet again about leaving her with the phone. The one The Lion calls sporadically.
Layla’s still speaking. “Anyway, Dmitri silently bought out this building from Arabella Barone. Big backstory for another day. But that bitch is a baddy.” She looks up now after adjusting her clothes, and my expression must be stricken with fear and uncertainty. “Hey, it’s okay. I can look after myself, remember.”
“But—”
She pulls me into a hug. “You need to keep living, Elanee.” She wipes at my eye where I hadn’t realized a tear had slipped. “We’re in this together, remember?”
I nod despite wanting to argue with her, conscious of the time. I need to muster the strength to be the voice of reason, but my will to have a crevasse in time to be free is too alluring. I take a shaky breath. The elevator restarts and the lights flicker back on as we go up one level.
“Oh, make sure you walk through the park with a hot chocolate for the homeless lady. I do that every day.” She smiles at me knowingly. Prior to the burner phone, she’d written me small letters as well. And even after the burner phone, I continued doing it to not raise suspicion in my routine. And they continued with the letters.
“Wait, also, did you have a threesome with Mirabella Latine?” I demand.
A tiny smirk appears. “How cute that you think there were only three people involved.”
My jaw drops but snaps shut the moment the doors open, and Layla looks away from me. Two people are waiting for the elevator. I hook my finger over my shoulder, pointing inside. “I’d watch that today. It just broke down on us,” I say, rather disgruntled as I push through them.
My heart is pounding in the aftermath of what we’d just done.
“Pockets of opportunity” Dmitri called it.
I’m scared.
Also exhilarated to step into his world a little more.
I just had to see it once.
I do all that I can to promise myself, this was the one and only time.