Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
The road stretches ahead, headlights cutting through the dusk, and the Bronco is filled with Levi’s complaining. “They’re ruining everything!”
I roll my eyes, but there is something grounding about his antics. It reminds me of when we were kids, and he would make a big deal out of every scraped knee or broken toy. I was the one who’d always shrug it off and handle it, but I liked being the steady one for him. It feels like my purpose.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Dove.” I sigh, keeping my eyes on the road, even though I know Levi being theatrical is part of his charm.
Or at least, that’s what he keeps telling me.
“They spelled your fucking name wrong on the cake,” Levi snaps. “Can you believe that? We’re fucking celebrities, the building we’re in has our name on it, but they manage to get your name wrong.”
I’d dropped him off at the Lane Building on my way to pick up my Little Thief, and things have already gone to shit, apparently.
My fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel as a grin breaks through. “Well, it’s the Lane Building, not the Koen Building after all,” I mutter, turning onto the street that leads to Glitter’s apartment building. “Besides, you’re the important twin anyway.”
“It says, ‘Happy Birthday Levi and Ken.’ Who the hell is Ken?” I can practically see him standing there, glaring at some poor event planner, looking ready to set the place on fire over a typo.
They should be happy it’s my name they spelled wrong.
He lets out another irritated noise, and I can’t help it. I laugh. “Relax. Nobody will notice. And if it makes you happy, I’ll go by Ken from now on.”
“You know what would make me happy?” Levi shoots back. “To be as unbothered as you are for once.”
“Just parked in front of her building,” I say, changing the subject. Cutting the engine, I lean back in my seat and try to gather my thoughts.
I’m not unbothered by her, that’s for sure.
I’d never had an issue with manipulating people. It was always a means to an end. And hell, it’s what I do best, but something about involving her makes me uneasy. Maybe it’s because I know how it feels to be used, or I’m afraid she’ll realize what we’re really doing here.
There’s a beat of silence on Levi’s end, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, more thoughtful. “If Nicholas doesn’t fall for her the second he sees her, I don’t know what we’ll do either.”
“Right,” I murmur, staring up at the building. Despite myself, a small sense of anticipation unfurls inside me, slowly suffocating the guilt.
“I mean, it worked for you, too,” Levi adds, his grin practically audible. “Ever since you saw behind the glitter, you were a goner.”
“Shut up.” I roll my eyes, but there’s no real heat behind my words. “Just make sure they’ve spelled my name right by the time I get there.”
Levi’s answering laughter is abruptly cut off as I hang up. I step out of the Bronco, the night air cool against my skin as I close the door.
The way she moved on the Strip and handled herself under pressure, it wasn’t just good, it was impressive. Professional yet playful. That kind of skill doesn’t just happen. It’s honed, earned through years of making split-second decisions and owning every single one of them.
She isn’t a showgirl who got lucky. She’s sharp, capable, and hiding more than we probably realize beneath that bravado.
Maybe she won’t make us crash and burn after all.
As I step up to the door, my phone buzzes repeatedly in my pocket. It’s the group chat with the guys.
Alaric
Does she have a purse that matches the glittery shoes?
Sylus
Are you the fashion police now?
Alaric
No, but she’ll probably need one to pull the switcheroo.
I’ll make sure she brings one.
Levi
How would you know that her shoes are glittery?
I pause, arching an eyebrow as a picture notification pops up, an image from Alaric. It’s Glitter, neck down, showing off the dress in the store’s dressing room. No trace of her face or the burn on her shoulder, which doesn’t surprise me. The glitter and sparkle are her armor.
And she thinks her body is the only thing of worth.
I shake my head, frustration and something I can’t quite name filling me.
Levi
She sent you a picture?
Alaric
I asked if you guys found a dress to see if she could hide something on her body.
Sylus
Sure.
And I’m the Queen of England.
Alaric
It’s the truth. But yeah, that dress will do.
Sylus
Yep.
Levi
Assholes, it won’t just do. She’s hot as fuck.
Alaric
That’s basically what I said.
I grip my phone tighter as irritation bubbles up.
Don’t talk about her like that. She’s too smart to be reduced to her body.
This kind of shit is probably exactly why she thinks like that of herself. I wait for the replies, knowing exactly what’s coming.
Alaric
I never said that!
Sylus
It smells like simp.
Sylus
Ez and I will be there in maybe thirty minutes, Dove.
Levi
Told you guys, he’s a goner.
Keep it up, Dove, and I’ll have them write Ken and Barbie on the cake.
Levi
Go ahead, it’s already ruined.
Sylus
What’s wrong with the cake?
I slide the phone back into my pocket, ignoring the texts still pouring in. Letting out a sigh of frustration, I walk up the hallway to her door.
They don’t get it, and maybe they don’t need to. This isn’t about me simping. There’s a sharp mind behind those green eyes, a rawness she tries to bury. It’s obvious she’s been through hell, and yet, here she is, standing, fighting, surviving.
She’s more than another pretty face.
That’s what’s caught my attention. But that’s all it is right now, attention. I’m not ready to let myself fall for someone in the way Levi keeps implying. I can’t afford that, and honestly, neither can she.
I knock on the door and step back, trying to steady my breathing and calm my nerves.
Tonight isn’t only about getting the job done, it’s about Levi, making sure he’s safe, making sure we don’t lose everything Oscar built, including the guys and our makeshift family. She’s also part of that equation.
If I mess this up, if I misjudge her or push too far, it won’t only be me who pays the price. It would be all of us.
Footsteps approach from inside, and anticipation builds until the door swings open. My breath catches in my throat. I’ve seen beautiful women. This is Vegas, after all. We’re in showbiz—models, actresses, stunning people everywhere.
But her?
Fuck.
She’s so damn beautiful. Her hair is done, makeup perfect, glitter shimmering all over her upper body, masking the scar on her shoulder. She’s a fucking vision, her green eyes popping against the dark eyeshadow.
All of that isn’t what draws me in most, though. It’s the confidence she exudes, the way she stands a little taller, daring the world to look past the glitter and see her.
Or maybe she’s daring me.
“Hey, you ready?” I manage, keeping it casual.
Her lips curve upward softly. “I think so.”
I glance down at her dress, then back at her face. “Do you have a purse? Alaric thinks you might need one to pull off the switcheroo or something.”
She rolls her eyes, a playful glint in her gaze. “Oh, Captain Bossy thinks he knows what I need? Is he going to be there tonight too?”
“Captain Bossy, huh?” I smirk. Fits the little dickhead. “No, he won’t be. He’s home, ready to help out via text if you need him.”
“Oh, okay.” She shrugs it off, but I can tell she’s disappointed.
I wonder if there’s something he didn’t tell me about them texting.
“Fine, I’ll grab a purse, but…” She peeks over my shoulder briefly and then smiles as she gestures to the inside of her apartment. “You better get in before one of my neighbors sees you and calls the paparazzi or something.”
Apparently, I don’t move fast enough because Glitter tugs me in by the sleeve of my black suit. It’s another reason why she moved up in my respect so quickly. She’s not a screaming fangirl. She even rolls her eyes when someone fawns over us.
Which is kind of hot.
She disappears into her room, and my eyes wander around her small place.
The pink couch, the mess, and all the glittery decorations.
I hadn’t looked around much yesterday, too occupied with my nerves about whether she would accept my apology for being a fucking asshole to her.
But now, I take it all in, and it gives me even more insight into who she is.
There’s a pack of Twinkies lying on the coffee table, and when I glance over to the kitchen, I see an overflowing trash can stuffed with even more Twinkie wrappers and fast-food containers.
She doesn’t appear to like cooking. There are also empty Jack Daniels bottles, which makes my gut twist a little, but then I notice a cat bowl with food.
She has a cat?
“You look pretty handsome tonight,” Glitter says, startling me out of my thoughts as she reappears with a purse in her hand. “I thought you didn’t have anything other than your twenty black T-shirts.”
“Yeah, I don’t. I borrowed this one from a costume rental place on the Strip.”
She looks puzzled. “You did?”
“No, Little Thief.” I chuckle. “It hung in my wardrobe.”
“Ha-ha. Shall we?”
I catch her wrist, stopping her from moving past me, and she glances up. For a split second, I see it—the hesitation, the vulnerability.
I fucking love reading her. Love the mix of emotions she always wears, even when she tries to mask them. She’s the most intriguing and difficult puzzle I’ve ever had, and I want nothing more than to solve her.
Every little piece, crack, and edge.
But I can’t let myself get carried away.
“You nervous?”
She shrugs, her gaze dropping. “Maybe.”
There it is. The honesty that slips through when she’s not trying so hard to be tough. Let’s see if I can turn that nervousness into something else. Maybe get her a little flustered, like yesterday.
That had been fun.
Her eyes narrow suspiciously as I reach into my pocket.
“What are you—” she starts to ask, but I cut her off.