Sara's POV

My head screamed, but I twisted my lips into a scowl, feigning disgust as I eyed the La Vie en Luxe bag on the Milton lounge's velvet sofa.

"I assumed you had a good taste," I said, my voice dripping with disdain and eyeing the bag like I didn't want to pull out whatever dress was sitting inside. "La Vie en Luxe? Is that the best you can do?"

I heard him growl, low and sharp.

Were my words hurting? Too bad I can't take it back.

"Besides," I said, sauntering away from the bag and hiding my excitement. "I can't go for an interview wearing that. How would Carlos hire a woman who wears a dress from La Vie en Luxe? He's hiring a PA, not a runway model."

I already had plans for the gown. There was a political set up meeting in Manhattan next weekend. Governors, politicians, senators - my kind of men. They would be in attendance. It would be the perfect cloak for Evelyn Rodriguez. And maybe I'll make enough money to pay for the stupid diamond necklace and run far away from the monster he was taking me to.

"What do you suggest I do with it?" He asked. "Return it?"

I spun too fast, forgetting an important rule.

Never show interest.

I bit down my lips and shrugged. "Whatever suits you."

He was gazing at me in a way that made the room feel smaller.

"A date," he blurted.

He stepped closer, repeating, "A date," as if daring me to challenge him.

"We can't be seen together. Remember?"

I knew I had an indelible effect on people, but was j already leaving those marks on Thomas Grey?

Wouldn't it be ironic to watch him fall for me?

I was smirking. But then I stopped. For the sake of the secret I held, it would be better to keep a safe distance from him.

"At my penthouse," he pressed, unrelenting. "Luca will bring you. I expect good news and useful information - actionable intel about Carlos' operation during the date."

I just wanted him gone. He was taking too much space.

I grabbed a worn-out brunette wig, brushing it with deliberate nonchalance. Irene Peters was taking shape in my mind: mousy, spectacled, ponytail, loose jeans, faded top. No seduction for Alvarez-just efficiency. Get in, get the intel, get out. Grey, too, would be a quick exit.

"Fine," I responded, voice flat. "Don't expect too much. I have a habit of disappointing people."

His frown sent my heart in flutters. "No disappointments, Sara."

I slid the wig over my head and placed the spectacles on my nose. The perfect PA look.

Something was missing. I strode to the bathroom for a cheap lipgloss I had bought from a shop. By the time I returned, Thomas Grey was gone.

I stared at my reflection while applying the gloss. "Well, good riddance."

The moment my eyes caught the luxury bag from the mirror, I abandoned everything and ran to it. It was a purple gown.

Purple!

Perfect.

It was almost as though I had whispered the details into his ears. Or like Grey had plucked it from my dreams. I pulled the gown to my chest and stared at my reflection, smiling audaciously. I could already see myself in the meeting, shaking hands, and swiping cards. Thanks to Thomas Grey, I was set for the weekend meeting.

As if on cue, the door clicked and Sean stepped in.

I twirled around with the dress pressed against my body.

"Trey Houston got you this?" He asked, tone laced with unbridled jealousy, his eyes narrowing.

I tossed the gown onto the bed. "Wrong guess."

His eyes followed the gown and lingered on it. "That must be worth something. Nothing less than a thousand."

I pulled a pair of jeans to my waist. "Nothing like good, old money."

"Who's the fish?"

I knew what he would say when I mentioned Thomas's name.

"Thomas Grey."

"The Thomas Grey?"

"He wants a date."

Sean frowned. "What does he want?"

I threw a long sleeved shirt over my body. "I'll be finding out. Trust me."

"Are you gonna sleep with him...again?"

I rolled my eyes. "That is never going to happen. Thomas and I are like opposite sides of a magnet."

"You attract?" He raised a brow.

I scoffed. "Is that what they do?" I glanced at my reflection smugly and faced Sean. "I guess we're same side of a magnet then."

I stepped out of the room. No one recognised me to be the rich heiress who had stepped in last night. Not even the concierge.

Only Sara Anderson could pull that.

I took a cab and drummed my fingers against my purse nervously. My fake ID was in the purse with fake certificates to go. Carlos was a big threat to Thomas Grey for him to go this far.

Too bad I was the victim for his stupid plan.

The cab stopped me a few blocks from Carlos' apartment. No one dares to go a yard close. Not with the hulking, grim-faced men standing around and now watching me as I played the Irene Peters act.

Pay attention!

I tried to brush my tangling wig with my fingers and almost stumbled over a scooter parked carelessly. I cursed angrily and hoped my act was going well. Irene would have been a smoker but I love my lungs too much.

I stopped in front of one of the men who had been watching me with a stare as cold as steel.

"Carlos Alvarez's house?" I asked, pointing to the large gate that clearly led to his mansion, looming ahead like that gate you don't pass through in a horror movie.

"Who are you?"

"Irene....Irene Peters." I fumbled with my purse reaching for an ID, perfectly ignoring his sharp reflex as he tucked his hand into his pocket for a gun.

Thomas Grey was trying to kill me.

I pushed the ID to his face. "See? There's an interview here, isn't there?"

"How did you know?"

I rolled my eyes. "How did you get your job? I can't start telling you my sources, can I now? Is that Carlos Alvarez's house? I need this job to pay off a lot of debt."

He returned the ID card to me, turning away and speaking into an earpiece. His face softened when he faced me.

"Irene Peters," he said. "The boss has been waiting for you."

Sara's POV

My knees were wobbling as I stood before the iron gates of Carlos Alvarez's estate.

How was I going to get out of this mess?

If I was Evelyn Rodriguez, I could handle it. But Irene Peters?

I barely knew her.

I was just discovering who the hell she is.

And I didn't even create her.

"Why are you still standing?" I heard the man say. "Don't you want that job anymore?"

I did. And I didn't.

Damn it!

I wouldn't be standing here if I had simply walked out of that mall. I had overstayed my welcome and now I was paying a huge price for my mistake.

"Did - did you say he was expecting me?"

The man threw a glance at his partner beside him and they burst into a fit of mocking roar.

"Who the hell do you think you are? How can Carlos Alvarez know you?" He sneered. "If you're here for the interview, you should get in now."

At least, that was relieving. I straightened and adjusted my wig. That was one thing about Irene Peters. The wig. It was always clumsily arranged. Then I poked my spectacles closer to my eyes.

"Have a good day gentlemen," channeling Irene's awkward bravado.

Because Evelyn Rodriguez would never.

But, easy does it. I was back to my act.

The gate loomed, its iron spikes a silent threat. Beyond it, the sprawling estate radiated menace, twisting my stomach into knots..

But this was my shot at freedom. Grey's words echoed: Get me what I want, and the necklace is yours. Millions in diamonds, enough to vanish with Sophie and Sam.

That was all I needed to think about right now.

I pushed the gate and stepped into the winding road that felt like a descent into hell. A golf cart idled nearby, its driver a grim-faced man who didn't bother looking at me.

"I'm here for the -"

He started the vehicle without saying a word, cutting me off.

Rude!

I scrambled to catch up, nearly tripping in my scuffed loafers. If he was having a bad day, he should try to be in my shoes. I couldn't even be bothered by his attitude. Not when I was still regretting my decision to come here. But the mansion loomed ahead, its facade, cold and imposing, a silent warning of the man inside.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and alighted from the golf cart. There were armed men all over the place. Who else would have armed men around him this much if not a mafia boss? Even the president didn't need this much security.

My pulse hammered as I approached the entrance, where another guard blocked my path.

"ID," the man in the entrance grunted as I attempted to walk past him.

I fished it from my pocket and flashed it before him. He nodded, made a curt hand signal - that was when I saw the sniper - and shifted for me to move in. My heart palpitations tripled. I had just seen a man dressed in black, belly-down on a tower, his rifle trained on me. One wrong move, and I'd be a memory.

How the hell was I going to do this?

I moved on with false confidence, scanning the room for anyone. It was empty. No candidates. No chatter.

Wasn't there supposed to be an interview going on? I had expected to see a room full of candidates but all I saw was a table, set with food and fruits, because the scent of the food was the first thing that welcomed me into the large luxurious space.

"Hello?" I called, my voice echoing. "Anyone?"

I didn't move. All I could think of was that sniper. I imagined this gun was still pointed at me. A wrong move and I'll be history.

"It's ...Irene. Irene Peters. I came for the interview."

Silence was the only response I got.

I considered bolting now that I had the opportunity, and telling Grey the job fell through, that he'd need another way to earn his damn necklace. But before I could move, a voice sliced through the quiet.

"Irene Peters..."

I turned swiftly as I heard my alias being called, heart lurching. A few feet from me was the legendary Carlos Alvarez, staring at me like he could read my soul, peel off the façade I wore, his presence filling the room like a storm. I adjusted my hair and fumbled for my ID in my pocket.

"Y-yes. I heard there's an interview."

He didn't speak. Only stared for an uncomfortable long three seconds, like he could read my mind, before dropping the leg that was crossed against his knees. He dropped his crossed arms and walked towards me, each step deliberate, a far cry from the beating of my heart against my chest.

"What are your qualifications?"

He was uncomfortably close to him, his cologne, spicy and expensive, invading my space.. Carlos Alvarez, the infamous mafia boss in my hair space. All I could think in that moment was why the hell I had agreed to this in the first place. He raised his hand to my face and I held my breath. This was it.

He was going to call out my bluff at this moment. Maybe I have been unfortunate this time again and maybe - just maybe - if I confessed before he spoke, he would pardon me. I was coerced.

I shut my eyes as his hand closed up to my face, expecting a slap. But instead, I felt a brush against my forehead.

"Don't you have a good conditioner?" I heard, his voice was low and amused like he had never seen a hair that bad.

I threw my eyes open, torn between horror and amusement.

"Don't you know how to answer a question?" He asked, arching a brow.

Right. The Irene Peters act. Clumsy and desperate.

"I-I...I'll get one today," I mumbled, cringing at my own stutter.

His gaze remained on me. Green eyes, watching me. And when the gaze left my eyes, they fell on my body. Faded jeans and shapeless top. Shapeless enough to kill any imagination.

"You can't work for me dressed like this."

Good. That was what I wanted to hear. I didn't qualify. Coming here was a mistake and now I had an answer to give Thomas Grey.

I nodded curtly, suppressing the smile forming from my lips, and turned to go.

But then his voice stopped me.

"Where are you going?" He demanded.l, his voice cold and sharp with authority.

I paused, said a prayer for the first time in a long time, and faced him. He had a scowl on his face like he found me amusing and I was a puzzle he badly wanted to solve. I wanted to be anything but amusing.

"I don't fit," I replied, voice breaking.

He chuckled softly, tossing his dark curls. "Prove to me, Irene Peters, why I should hire you."

Sara's POV

I had to sound desperate. That was the reason I was here.

Irene Peters was desperate for a job. Desperate enough to walk into Carlos Alvarez's lair. A woman clinging on the edge of survival, stupid enough to walk into a mafia's lair.

His eyes pinned me, sharp and dangerous, waiting for an answer. I could feel the weight of his gaze, like a predator savoring the tremble of prey.

It must amuse him seeing me this way. He must thrive on seeing women tremble.

And that damned wig. The fringe kept slipping into my eyes, itching my skin. I pushed the fringe aside, silently cursing my Irene Peters act.

My voice croaked, just enough to sound desperate. "I need the job."

He nodded, lips curling slightly, as though he believed me. "How desperate?"

He stepped closer, his polished shoes clicking on the floor. My heart pounded, a wild rhythm against my ribs. "What can you do? Anything?"

I nodded quickly, too quickly. He stopped.

"I don't need your qualifications. I just need one thing."

I held my breath hoping it would not be learning how to handle a gun. Or something worse.

I was just a con artist. Yes, I swindled men.

But I didn't end them. Not even their savings. I took enough to make them curse but never pursue.

"How obedient are you?"

The question formed a knot in my stomach. Maybe it was the way he asked it that made it sound sultry. Suddenly, it was like I had walked into an adult scene I hadn't rehearsed and my dominant partner was asking how obedient I could be.

"I...I can do everything office related," I emphasized.

Emphasis was necessary to avoid miscommunication.

My response brought out a laughing reaction from him that cut through the thick air between us. He stopped impromptu and grabbed my wrist, pulling me to himself. His cologne assaulted him. But it was his gaze that sent shivers down my spine.

Or maybe I was the one misreading.

"Who said anything about an office?" He quired. "Your job description is personal assistant. That means, you belong to me. You assist me."

Okay. I had stepped into the wrong den. He was already personalising me like he had given me the job and I was his possession.

My instinct screamed to bolt, to curse Thomas for dragging me into this mess. But running wasn't an option. Not with a sniper waiting at the exit.

He let go of my hand but not his gaze. "Do you understand?"

I didn't hesitate. I nodded.

I knew men like Carlos Alvarez. I always avoided them. They were always too smart, always a step ahead, and always too difficult to read.

How was I going to steal from this man?

He was watching me like he could hear my thoughts.

"This won't do," she said, gesturing at my blouse and pair of trousers. "We'll have this fixed."

Fixed?

"Am I hired?"

"You're employed. And you'll start now. Not with these rags on."

I stared at the outfit like he had insulted my favourite clothing. If only he knew what my wardrobe contained. And my recent addition, the million dollar dress Thomas had wanted me to appear in.

I curtsied slightly. "Thank you. I'll serve you in my best possible way."

Someone, that statement tasted sour in my tongue. He didn't respond. Only nodded.

"Pat will fix you," he said walking away.

Pat appeared a few minutes later. A middle aged woman who had the body of a model. She smiled warmly when she saw me.

"Congratulations," she said, her voice syrupy. "It's a privilege to work for Mr. Alvarez. He's always considerate towards his staff."

It sounded automated. Like I was listening to a broken record.

She could do better to convince me.

But I was Irene Peters. And she was terribly gullible or good at looking so.

I smiled. "I'm lucky to have been chosen."

She coughed to hide a sneer I already caught.

"Aren't you sweetheart. Now, we have to do something about these clothes. You're the face of Mr. Alvarez and you need to appear striking at all times."

"But-"

"Oh, shush dear. I'm here to handle that. Follow me."

Her heels clacked against the marble as she disappeared from the hall. I stood, contemplating on whether to follow or take the opposite direction.

But the opposite direction had a snipper waiting for me.

So, I followed her.

The hall led to an exit, strangely. And right outside was a sleek, black limo waiting. She walked into it and I stood there, gawking.

"Come in," she beckoned, chuckling. "It's courtesy of the boss."

Was this Carlos' way of keeping his staff quiet? Dangling luxury like bait.

The limo was a dream. Soft, plush leather chairs, chilled champagne, air conditioning that felt like a caress. The true Evelyn Rodriguez lifestyle. For a while, I almost forgot I was Irene Peters.

I had crossed my legs and sank into the cushion. But when I brought the flute to my face and caught my reflection - stubborn wig and a face bereft of make-up - I uncrossed them and sat straight.

It was easy to get distracted in a vehicle this good. But it was dangerous.

As the ride started, Pat started her coaching.

"Mr. Alvarez is a simple man," she started. "All he needs is your honesty."

Well, too bad I sold that for a diamond necklace.

But I smiled shyly and nodded like I was the most honest thing on the planet.

"Obey his orders. Everything he asks...and you'll enjoy your job."

She winked at me, subtly trying to pass a message I didn't want to understand.

"You're young," she continued, oblivious to my growing irritation. "With good clothes you'll fit in perfectly. Who knows what the future might hold for you."

The only future I knew had my twins in a mansion, far away from this madding crowd. No Thomas. No Carlos.

"If I was younger," she continued, despite my irritation. "I would have had a kid for him. It pays a lot."

Was she hired to test my patience? Because she was succeeding at it.

The last thing I needed was a complicated relationship. I didn't even want a relationship. Just a lot of money, enough to find my Evelyn Rodriguez dream.

The limo pulled to a stop and when we stepped out, the towering elegance of Elysian Court stood before us. I gasped softly.

Pat, who was beside me, chuckled. "I told you, didn't I?"

Told me what?! Were we here to shop for him? Or maybe a fiancé since Elysian Court was a female luxurious boutique. One I had been to a thousand times in my head.

"Who's shopping?" I asked for clarity.

But she laughed heartily and stared at me. "You. You have ten free picks."

I blinked unbelievably. Me? Sara Anderson given a blank ticket? I didn't care about Irene's style right now. All I knew was, I couldn't let a good moment go to waste.

Irene Peters could come later.