Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Koen
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.
“Patience, Little Thief.” I smile, pulling out the simple, platinum bracelet I picked for her yesterday at the shop while she was changing back into her sweats.
Her eyes widen when I reveal it, and I can practically see her defenses going up again. She’s already questioning my motive behind the gift. That’s fine. I expected as much. “This isn’t some big, glittery thing, but something tells me you’ll appreciate it more,” I explain, watching her expression shift.
She blinks, her lips parting as she stares at the bracelet, processing what’s happening.
I take her left wrist, and her skin is soft under my fingers as I fasten the clasp. It’s a simple gesture, but judging by how she watches me, she doesn’t quite know how to react.
She’s not used to this.
Huh. I would’ve bet that guys fall over themselves to buy her things.
“Why would you buy me this?” she asks in disbelief like the idea that someone might do something kind for her is foreign. It’s not the reaction I expected, but it tells me a lot about her.
“The dress needed some jewelry,” I say, shrugging. The truth is, I wanted to buy her something after Levi paid for the dress and shoes.
To ease my guilty conscience about dragging her into this mess and putting her life at risk too?
Probably.
She snorts, a smile dancing over her lips, trying to mask whatever she’s feeling. “Oh, so you want me to give it back with the dress after?”
“Who said you had to give the dress back? It’s yours. And so is the bracelet.” I make sure to catch her gaze, wanting her to hear me clearly. “You don’t owe me anything. Not a damn thing. I… wanted you to have it.”
She stares at me for a moment, and I catch the flicker of confusion in her eyes, the gears turning as she weighs if I really mean what I’m saying. The little crinkle appears beside her nose, the same one she had yesterday when she asked about our wealth. A micro-expression of disgust, not about the money but about herself.
“Think of it as a lucky charm for tonight.”
Her gaze sharpens. “Lucky charm?” she repeats skeptically. “Do you actually believe in stuff like that?”
“My sister believed in lucky charms.” I reach into my shirt and pull out a silver chain. A small rose pendant catches the light as I hold it up for her to see. “She gave me this for our performances, and it’s never failed me.”
Her expression softens, her eyes lingering on the rose. I can tell she’s thinking of her own sister. She told me she missed her, and I can see it now in the way her gaze lowers, something fragile and aching behind her eyes.
There’s so much I don’t know about her yet.
“We all can use a lucky charm,” I add, letting the pendant fall back against my chest.
Her lips part, and I think she might say something. Instead, she looks down at the bracelet and brushes her fingers over the links.
She doesn’t need to say anything. I can feel the shift, the way the weight between us has changed, even if only a little. She’s still guarded, still hiding, but I’m starting to slip through the cracks.
“Thank you,” she whispers like she doesn’t think she deserves any of it.
That’s the part I can’t quite figure out yet.
Why does she see herself this way?
“ I’m only good to be looked at or used. ”
“Where would I even go with a fifteen-thousand-dollar dress and a bracelet that costs at least as much?”
It costs more but…
… semantics.
“You’ll have to go out with Levi and me more often,” I reply with a grin, trying to keep it light before things get even heavier.
She laughs, shaking her head, her fingers still playing with the bracelet. “No promises. I’m in Italy soon, remember.”
Italy.
She’s going to be pissed when she hears that our deal isn’t over after tonight. But it’s going to be good when this is over, and she’s away and happy.
“Besides, it’s your birthday, not mine, and I don’t have anything for you.” She steps closer. Before I can respond, she rises onto her tiptoes, her scent hitting me like a hurricane as she kisses my cheek. “Happy birthday, Koen.”
Her scent.
It’s a bakery at dawn—sweet, warm, comforting. It pulls at something deep inside me, something I haven’t felt since I was a kid. It reminds me of early mornings when my mom used to bake cinnamon rolls on Sundays, and the air filled with that warm sweetness that meant everything was right in the world. For a second, I’m back there—small, safe, wrapped in a warmth that makes everything else fade away.
For such a simple gesture, the kiss wrecks my insides in a way I can’t seem to shake. Part of me even wants to pull her back, to ask her to do it again, only to feel her against me for another moment.
Fuck.
For the first time since Oscar’s death, the numbness recedes.
Something real is taking root .
“All right.” I clear my throat, not letting her see how much that little kiss threw me off. “Let’s get out of here.” I tilt my head toward the door, giving her a playful nudge. “Levi’s gonna hunt us down if we take too long. You know he has no fucking patience at all.”
She giggles, and we head out. When we reach the car, she hesitates, her gaze flickering between the Bronco and the ground, her fingers tightening around her purse strap.
“How can we make this ride better, so you don’t, you know…” I gesture toward her, “… ruin all your makeup by clamping your eyes shut?” I try to keep my tone teasing, but I’m actually worried.
Yesterday, watching her struggle, I’d wanted nothing more than to stop the car to let her out or, better yet, to climb into the back seat with her and pull her into my lap, shielding her from whatever was haunting her. And here we are again, another test for her, another challenge I’m hoping she’ll get through.
I’m such an asshole.
“You could let me drink,” she mutters, glancing up at me with a wry smile, though she doesn’t say it as cuttingly as she would have a few days ago. There’s a tension there, though, in her eyes, in the way she grips her purse strap as if it’s the only thing tethering her to the moment.
“I need you sober for this mission. I’m sorry, but you can have champagne with Levi when it’s all over. Deal?”
Yep, definitely an asshole.
“You could put me in a trance, then?”
“Unfortunately, that’s not how this works. I can’t take the fear from you. That would take a lot of work and—”
“Yeah, yeah,” she cuts me off with a wave and a sigh, her shoulders visibly drooping in resignation as I open the passenger door for her, and she only hesitates for another second before taking a deep breath and slipping inside .
Brave girl.
I circle to the driver’s side and take a long breath, trying to think of anything that might help. When I slide in next to her, she hasn’t even buckled her seat belt. Her eyes are closed, her knuckles white as she makes fists, pressing her glittery nails so hard into her palms, I’m sure it must hurt. She’s trying to keep control, but it’s a struggle, and I hate that I’m putting her through this.
“Would it help to sit in the back?”
She shakes her head without opening her eyes. “No, I can do this. ”
I lean over, reaching across her to grab the seat belt. My fingers brush her arm as I click it into place, and she flinches, letting out a shaky breath, her eyes still closed.
“Hey,” I murmur over the quiet of the car. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She opens her eyes, then I can see it, the real fear, not only nerves.
“Sorry… it’s not that easy.”
“I can see that,” I reply, starting the engine and driving off. “I’m sorry. I’ll drive slow, okay?”
She nods, but her eyes are distant, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the dashboard, and I can tell she’s not here with me.
I need to pull her back.
“What helped yesterday?” I ask. “It looked like it got better after a while there.”
She takes a deep breath. “Music.”
I nod, reaching for the radio to start my playlist. The strumming of “Coal” by Dylan Gossett filters through the car. Her lips twitch almost imperceptibly, but it’s there, a tiny curve, a ghost of a smile.
Good. Maybe that’ll help her breathe easier.
Though still tense, her shoulders aren’t as drawn up anymore, and that flicker of calm washes over me too. It’s strange how music can cut through the noise of whatever chaos is running through your head and bring you back down.
“You’re into country?”
“Mmm.” I hum in confirmation, then add a confession, “I play the guitar.”
She glances at me, curiosity briefly overcoming her anxiety. “Hypnosis, music… what else can you do?”
I embrace that spark of intrigue again, latching onto it, hoping it’ll help her focus on something other than fear. “Want to get to know me?” I tease, half-expecting her to deflect as she always does.
“What if I do?” she shoots back with sass, but there’s a tremor there as she grips the leather seat on both sides of her.
The way her shoulders tense every time I accelerate and her fingers twitch whenever another car passes us, she’s holding on by a thread.
“I’d like to get to know you better, too,” I admit, more serious this time. “I enjoy cooking, baking, making music, spending time with family, staying home. You know, cozy shit. Being out and about is stressful for us. People never leave us alone.”
“Poor celebrity, millionaire baby.” Her shoulders relax even more as she mocks me, mocks us , and I catch the small smile forming on her lips. It’s progress.
“Levi already told you about our finances. Your guess is way off, ” I tease back. That makes her giggle for real, but it cuts off abruptly as a sudden wail of a siren pierces the air.
She flinches hard as her hand moves to her wrist, and she fumbles with the bracelet there, her fingers skimming over the cool metal before she starts to rub it in slow, repetitive motions, each movement a whispered plea for control. It’s almost as if she’s trying to hypnotize herself .
Fuck this.
“Little Thief?” I say, my eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“Yes?” Her voice is barely there.
I reach over and pinch her knee, enough to make her yelp and glance down, and then I tap her forehead lightly. “Sleep.”
Her head droops forward, her body slacking as the tension drains away.
“You feel good, safe. Everything’s all right. Sorry,” I mutter, guilt curling in my gut.
She asked for this, right?
We glide down the Strip, the neon lights streaking across the windshield.
As the Lane Building finally comes into view, the calm shatters. The front is a circus, paparazzi flashing cameras like strobe lights. We’re not going in that way. Instead, we take the back, which will also shield her from anybody seeing her this out of sorts next to me.
“Wake up.”
She jerks awake with a sharp inhale, her eyes darting around, panic flickering across her face. “Did you—”
“Yes,” I admit. “Sorry.”
She shakes her head, the edges of a relieved smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t be. That was… good. Are we already here?”
“We are.”
As I ease the car around the final corner, my stomach knots. Nicholas Harrington, the perfect picture of old money and privilege, is standing next to a black town car, helping his mother out of the vehicle.
God, I hate the prick.
Not as much as I despise his mother.
Our eyes meet for a split second, but his gaze shifts, moving past me to focus on Glitter .
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, glancing past me, her brows knitting together.
“It’s not ideal that he saw you with me.” I hesitate, then slow down even more, nodding toward the front, where Harrington’s focus is back on his mother, holding out his arm for her to take. “See the guy back there helping Veronica Harrington?”
She turns in her seat in time to catch a glimpse of him as we round the corner. “You mean tall, broad, and handsome?”
A prick of jealousy settles in my gut instantly, and my irritation sharpens.
She thinks he’s handsome?
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, but then I remind myself this isn’t about me. This is for Oscar. Even better if she thinks that dickhead is attractive. Maybe that will make her more convincing. Still, I can’t deny the way it twists inside me.
I pull the car into the back lot, find a quiet space behind the building, and turn to her as I kill the engine. “Nicholas Harrington is your priority tonight,” I explain evenly. “I want you to make him fall for you. No, fuck that . I want you to make him your bitch . You have the whole evening.”
She raises an eyebrow, intrigued but also… offended?
“What exactly do you need me to do tonight?”
“We need you to steal a hotel card from one of our guests and pass it to another guest without him noticing. We need it to be found on mark number two later, so he’ll be just as surprised about having it. Of course, mark number one can’t realize it’s gone.”
She nods, processing. “Okay, sounds doable.”
It’s back, the bravado, but I know her well enough by now to understand that her confidence doesn’t mean she isn’t afraid. It means she’s choosing to push through it.
“Get the card, get Nicholas’s attention, be my charming self, then place the card on someone else. I can do that. But if you want me to get him to go home with me, I don’t need an entire evening for that. Honestly, if you give me ten minutes, this would be over. And let’s be real. He’s such a hottie, I’d do that for free.”
Something inside me bristles at her words, the irritation I’d pushed down flaring back up. Not at her, but at the way she offered to fuck him for me. Even though I know she’s deflecting by using humor to mask her nerves, it’s a punch to the gut. And she might even be testing me, seeing what kind of reaction she’ll get.
“No,” I say firmly, shaking my head as I turn fully to face her. “No fast number. I don’t want him in your pants. I want him to fall for you . To trust you. To want you close…” I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “Got it?”
She frowns. “That’s going to take more than an evening, Koen.”
It absolutely will.
Fuck.
Should I tell her now?
“I thought you were good?” I goad with a grin instead. If I know anything about the woman beside me, it’s that she can’t say no to a challenge. “Show me you’ve at least got him hooked by the end of the night. I want him wanting more, enough that he’ll chase after you.”
She rolls her eyes but nods. “Piece of cake.”
I exit the car and walk around to her side, opening the door. Her fingers slip into mine, and we stand there for a beat longer than necessary. She tries to smile confidently, but her nerves are evident.
Fuck, maybe this is all too much too soon.
She’s good, really good. However, it doesn’t stop the protective instinct flaring up inside me. I’ve seen too many people get in over their heads, thinking they’re invincible. And I don’t want her in the line of fire, even if I’m the one pushing her there.
“Ready?” I ask because yes, I am an asshole.
She drops my hand and lifts her chin. Then she straightens, pulling her shoulders back, and her whole demeanor shifts into pure confidence and command, her eyes gleaming with determination. Her lips curl into a confident smile as she replies, “Ready.”
She steps forward, leading the way as if the night was made for her. I follow her into the building, watching as she strides through the back entrance with an aura that’s undeniable.
Whatever doubts I had?
Yeah, they’re gone now.
She’s going to pull this off.