Sara's POV

I couldn't betray a flicker of panic. Not now. I had to stay in character. Evelyn Rodriguez, the untouchable heiress.

"Don't you read signs?" I asked, my voice dripping with disdain. The man's tailored suit screamed wealth, his polished loafers screaming wealth under the bathroom's light.

I can smell the rich ones from a mile away. And this one was-

He slipped off his sunglasses, and my stomach lurched.

Thomas Grey.

America's billionaire bachelor, owner of this glittering empire. And lots more.

His face twisted into a scowl. "Sara Anderson. Wannabe socialite and sophisticate."

My heart pounded in my chest, but years of cons kept my expression ironclad. How did he know my real name? Evelyn Rodriguez was a ghost, known to a few I had dealt business with. And Thomas Grey was certainly not in that list. At least, not in that way.

Sara Anderson?

She didn't exist to men like Thomas Grey.

He stepped closer, the air thinning with each stride. Even with that frown and the anxiety clawing my chest, I couldn't ignore how devastatingly handsome he was up close. I'd seen him on screens, in public spaces from afar, and a night in a dim lit room, but those piercing green eyes? They were new. And they looked ridiculously charming.

His hand grabbed my wrist, yanking me from my thoughts.

"I have a job for you," he said, voice low, commanding.

I wrenched my arm free, glaring. "I don't know who you think you are," I spat, "but you've got the wrong woman. This Sara Anderson is surely Not me. Now, if you'll excuse me."

I brushed past him, aiming for the door, my mind screaming. I would never come back to this building.

But a hulking figure stood in the doorway, his face a stone wall, stern. My pulse quickened. Had they seen the swap?

Thomas sauntered toward me, a predator's smile curling his lips. "You'll do as I say, or you'll rot in jail."

I rolled my eyes, masking the thunder in my chest. "Jail?" I scoffed. "Do you know who I am?"

He leaned in, his breath grazing my ear. I caught the scent of his cologne

Creed Aventus, sharp and decadent, the kind that could fund a month in Bali.

If he weren't threatening me, I might've imagined tasting that scent on his skin.

Again.

"Like I said," he murmured, "Sara Anderson." He straightened, eyes glinting. "Drop the Evelyn Rodriguez act. I know what you've done."

He nodded to the hulk, who snatched my purse with a force I couldn't resist. Before I could scream assault, the diamond necklace, my million-dollar ticket, dangled from his fingers, its face glistening under the light.

My dream...gone.

Thomas caught the necklace, cradling it in his pampered hand. "When I saw you strut into my mall, I knew you were trouble," he said.

I squared my shoulders, voice steady despite the throb in my throat.

"Just because you own a jewelry store peddling fakes doesn't mean every gem is yours." I pointed at the necklace, letting my tone sound with feigned hurt. "That was my mother's. I came to find a replica, only to discover your shop is a sham."

A dry chuckle escaped him. He gestured to his guard, who dropped a photo into his hand.

"Carlos Alvarez," Thomas said, holding it up, ignoring my perfect act.

My blood ran cold. I knew that name. Everyone who was involved with the men and women that mattered knew him.

Mafia kingpin and ruthless. They were mere rumours. But we all knew it was true. But who could say it?

"He's moving into my city, trying to outshine me," Thomas continued. "Your job is to expose him for the criminal he is."

Was this billionaire insame? Send me to infiltrate Alvarez's life? I'd take a jail cell over that death sentence. A swap wouldn't land me more than a few years, would it?

I shook my head. "You can't make me. I won't."

He stepped closer, brows knitting, his intensity swallowing the room. "Oh, you will, Evelyn, master con artist. But for this, you're Irene."

The hulk produced an ID card. My face stared back with a different name. Irene Peters.

My facade cracked. Had I walked into a trap? Had he knew all along that I was coming here?

"What the hell is this?" I hissed, Evelyn Rodriguez evaporating. No point pretending to a man who knew too much and was already rewriting my identity.

"Your mission," Thomas said. "Alvarez's businesses launch in six months here in this city. You have stop him. You can't fail."

"I'm sorry," I said, voice flat, steady and my mind made up. "I can't."

"It's not a choice."

Carlos Alvarez? I'd be dead before I got close.

He extended the ID card. I took it, curious.

"There's an opening for his personal assistant," Thomas said. "You'll convince him to hire you. I've crafted a CV with all the credentials and work experience you'll need, but you'll need more than papers to seal the deal. Get the job."

I stared at the card, my mind racing. "If I do this, what's the pay?"

"How does a million dollars sound?"

Mind-blowing.

"And if you don't hold up your end?" I pressed.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I'm Thomas Grey. My word never gets broken." He set the necklace on the washbasin, its sparkle taunting me. "You'll get this when you secure the job."

I eyed the diamonds. "What's stopping me from running once I have it?"

He moved toward the door, pausing to glance back. "You won't."

He said it with so much confidence that frightened me.

Sara's POV

Sean's text buzzed on my phone, shattering my focus. Our evening plans were now in ruins.

I stared at the screen, reading his message.

Sean had outdone himself, booking a private lounge at the Milton.

Milton!

That was a five-star hotel, where champagne flowed like water and bills for a night could buy a house. My stomach twisted. I had nothing but a few crumpled bills in my purse.

His call came through before I could think about the mess we were in.

"The manager's here at the door, demanding payment," Sean said, his voice tight.

I bit my lip, hard. "Then leave, Sean. The deal fell apart."

"What do you mean?" Urgency spiked his tone. "I've been here for hours. I've already ordered food and drinks."

Sean was going to be my downfall.

"Couldn't you wait for me?" I snapped. "Do you have any money?"

"A hundred bucks."

That couldn't even pay for a night in a lounge at Milton.

"Hold on," I said. "Tell the manager I'm on my way and you're just my PA."

I ended the call, slipping back into Evelyn Rodriguez.

At the hotel, I strode through the marble lobby, exuding confidence that turned heads. Designer sunglasses perched on my nose, my lips curled in a disdain of a rich, spoilt heiress.

I stopped at the reception desk. "I need the manager," I said, my voice crisp and commanding.

The receptionist nodded, flustered. "Right away, ma'am."

I tapped my manicured nails on the polished wood, the rhythm steady, practiced.

This always worked.

The manager appeared minutes later, apologies escaping from his mouth as he saw my fur coat and haughty air. I didn't remove my sunglasses or acknowledge his apologies.

"Why was my PA harassed this afternoon?" I asked, my voice icy. "This hotel came highly recommended. I'm disappointed, to say the least."

The manager spun to the receptionist, demanding answers.

"The lounge hasn't been paid for, nor the services," she stammered.

He faced me, practically bowing. "My deepest apologies, ma'am."

"Evelyn Rodriguez," I said, letting the name carry weight. "I flew in from Mexico this morning, and my day's been dreadful. Have someone bring the bill tomorrow when I've exchanged my currencies." I pressed a hand to my forehead, feigning a wince. "I have a headache and won't like to be disturbed."

"Of course," he said, nodding vigorously. "My apologies."

I gave a curt nod and strutted toward the elevator, stifling a smirk. That was the Evelyn Rodriguez magic, never failing.

In the lounge, I locked the door, tore off my blonde wig, and let out an exasperated sigh. The room was stunning with crystal chandeliers, velvet couches, and a view of the city's glittering skyline from the window.

But we couldn't afford a single hour here.

Sean lounged on a sofa, emptying a bottle of champagne. He grinned, stood arms outstretched as I entered.

I pushed him back. "You're useless, Sean." I gestured to the food cart, laden with half-eaten dishes fit for a banquet. "What were you thinking? Who eats like a pig when we're broke?"

His grin faded. "Don't take it out on me, Sara." He softened, opening his arms. "C'mon, don't I get a hug?"

I sank into his embrace, the fight draining out of me.

"What happened with the necklace?" he asked, voice low.

I kicked off my six-inch heels and pulled out of my gown, Sean's eyes tracing my form as I crossed the room to a bottle of merlot. I poured, the wine's sharp tang soothing my parched throat, and slumped into a chair.

"You won't believe who I met," I said, setting the bottle down. "And what he offered."

"Spill."

I took more. "Thomas Grey."

Sean choked on his champagne. "The Thomas Grey? Did he recognize you?"

I shook my head. "No way. He was too drunk that night, and the room was dark."

Three years ago, I'd spotted Grey in a bar, drowning his sorrows, his Rolex my reason for approaching him. A billionaire in a place like that? Something had broken him. I'd offered a night to forget his pains, my eyes on the watch.

The night was good but the money from the Rolex was better.

"Will you tell him about-"

"No." I stood, cutting him off. Sean knew not to touch that topic. Whatever happened with Grey stayed buried right there in the past.

I fished the ID card from my purse and tossed it onto the bed. "He offered me a job."

Sean's eyes flicked to the card. "Irene Peters?"

"That's not the amusing part." I sat, restless, the encounter with Grey still buzzing under my skin. "He wants me to spy on Carlos Alvarez."

Sean's face mirrored the dread I'd felt when Grey dropped that name. "Did you agree?"

"I had no choice."

"Fuck, Sara!" He shot up, pacing. "You'll get yourself killed. Alvarez is a monster. You can't do this."

"For two million dollars, I can." I moved to him, cupping his face, my lips brushing his. "We need this, Sean. A break. A vacation far from this chaos, with Sophie and Sam."

He nodded, reluctant, worry written all over his face. "What does Grey want?"

I pulled away, grabbing the merlot and draining the bottle. "To sabotage Alvarez's business launch. I've got six months." I pointed to the card. "That's my ticket in. I apply as his PA under that name."

Sean took my hand, his grip tight. "You sure about this?"

"Think of the money. I've conned politicians, Sean. I can handle Alvarez."

"A ruthless mafia boss?"

I flashed a grin. "Maybe he's never met a desperate con artist."

I crossed to the mirror, adjusting my wig and reapplying lipstick. Blood-red and bold. "First, we need cash to cover this lounge and have the night we deserve. Ben's charity dinner is tonight."

"You're not tired?"

I slipped into the emerald gown I'd bought en route, its silk hugging my curves. "Will resting pay the bill? We can make enough tonight to stay here three days before crawling back to your dump." I laughed, bitter. "Maybe if I land this PA gig, I'll move in with Alvarez."

"That's not funny."

"My life's a joke lately."

I studied my reflection, Evelyn Rodriguez reborn. Ready to charm, con, and survive another night.

Sara's POV

The moment I spotted Trey Houston, I knew I'd struck gold. America's sugar daddy and fairy godfather to anyone with a sob story and a pretty face.

I glided past him, my perfume introducing myself and stealing his attention. I didn't pause nor glance his way. The best way to hook a man was to Ignore him.

Let him chase.

The charity dinner was in full swing, the hall buzzing with dignitaries and men whose egos matched their bank accounts. I settled into a chair, feigning indifference, my eyes fixed on Charles Baker's boring speech.

I had conned him once. That was two years ago, a quick steal he'd never trace to me. At least ,he had no proof. His face hadn't changed, but mine had, thanks to my wig.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

I turned to Trey, offering a polished smile. "Of course not."

He sank into the seat beside me, his cologne sharp and expensive. "Here for the charity dinner?"

Wasn't it obvious?

"I'm disappointed in myself," I said, sighing. "i flew in from Mexico for this, but my bank's acting up and I can't make a donation."

He nodded, eyes lingering on me. "Mexican?"

"Half. Mostly American. Evelyn Rodriguez." I extended a hand, letting my fingers brush his.

"Trey Houston."

I flicked my gaze back to Charles, playing distracted. "I grew up here, but you'd never guess it because of my surname. And yet again, I've got no Mexican accent because I was practically here most of the time while my father was building his billion dollar company. As a kid, I thought my mom was a famous actress." I chuckled, soft and wistful. "Then I realized we lived in Hollywood, but she never made it to a screen."

Trey laughed, warmth in his eyes. "The movie industry's brutal."

"Not as brutal as running a business," I said, leaning closer. "Especially as a woman."

His gaze roamed my face, my neckline. "You're beautiful, Evelyn."

"A compliment I hear daily." I tilted my head, playful. "Are you single, Trey? I could use company while I'm in town. I'm at the Milton's lounge. You could stop by if you like. We could... discuss business."

His smile turned naughty. "I'm as free as a bird. How about tonight? Show me that lounge, and who knows..."

"Who knows?" I echoed, matching his tone. "Are you a businessman?"

"Let's say I'm a jack-of-all-trades, master of all."

"Including pleasing a woman?"

He chuckled. "I could be your personal gigolo."

"Oh, I'm intrigued." I leaned in, voice low. "Since my bank's a mess and I can't make any donations, why don't we skip this and see how good you are? Get to know each other... better."

Trey didn't hesitate. His sleek Bentley whisked us to Milton, champagne flowing in the backseat as we traded talk of his businesses and my fictional empires. I spun tales of my father's company in Mexico and my plans to expand more branches to America once I claimed the CEO title.

"You must know my father," I said. "Antonio Rodriguez."

He shook his head. "Americans like to keep business in America."

"While Europeans build empires home and abroad," I countered, sipping my drink.

At the lounge, Sean was gone, back to his dingy apartment. I locked the door behind us, turning to Trey with a seductive smile. "Show me what you can do."

I let my gown slip to the floor, revealing curves shapened by gyming and nature. Trey's eyes devoured me, his shirt hitting the floor in seconds, hands reaching for my waist.

"Americans love to rush, don't they?" I teased, stepping back.

"We're the fastest economy for a reason," he growled, closing the gap between us.

His lips crashed into mine, hungry, and for a moment, I let myself sink into fantasy..Aweek in this lounge far from Sean's reeking apartment. But as Trey's hands roamed, my mind betrayed me, drifting to him. Thomas Grey. Seeing him today had upsetted me more than I'd admitted.

I remembered his touch. Gentle yet firm, holding me in a way that felt dangerous. His lips, soft but insistent, pulling me to the seventh heaven.

"Grey..." I whispered, the name slipping out.

Trey, lost in his haze, didn't notice.

What if Grey had recognized me today? Could I tell him the truth about that night? About what it left behind?

No. Six months under his watchful eye would be torture. One glance at my twins and he'd know they were his. Their green eyes, his eyes, would betray me.

This deal with Grey was like walking on a tightrope, and I was already slipping.

"Evelyn?" Trey's voice cut through, his hands pausing. "You seem distracted."

I traced his chest, forcing a smile. "Aren't all businesswomen?"

"You don't mix business with pleasure," he said, misquoting with a grin.

I laughed, letting him think he'd won me back. The night blurred into quick, practiced motions, but I kissed him awake in the early hours, right before a knock sounded at the door.

"We're here for payment, ma'am," a hotel staffer by the door said.

I raised my voice, loud enough for Trey to hear. "My bank's still a mess! Can't you wait until noon?"

Trey was at my side in an instant, pulling me close, his ego gleaming like a knight's armor. "I'll handle the bills."

His credit card swiped, securing seven days of luxury.

I kept my Evelyn smile in place. "Thanks for the save," I said, brushing a kiss across his cheek. "Next time I'm in the States, I'll repay you... any way you like. Or I could host you in Mexico."

He frowned, reluctant. "You're here for seven days, right?"

"Swamped with meetings, Trey." I kissed him again, deeper. "I've got to prove I'm worthy of my father's empire, remember?"

As I shut the door behind him, my smirk returned. No one was beyond my reach.