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.

Sara's POV

Who didn't know Elysia's court?

I had been here twice under different aliases and I had walked with an air of confidence like I owned the place. Well, back then, I had Frank Tower's credit card.

But now, I scruffled behind Pat, fighting to keep my act, while my eyes roamed around the room already looking for the perfect ten outfits from the lines of rack that held nothing but the best

I have been here before so I knew exactly where I was going.

Pat was speaking to the sales manager when I walked to the exclusive lounge. I knew I shouldn't be doing it. But I couldn't help it. A con artist never refuses an opportunity. Not one that came with this packaging.

Carlos, with all his menace, might just be a cloud with a silver lining.

A black gown caught my attention, its fabric shimmering like midnight. Beside it was the price tag. That was not my problem.

I never check.

I plucked it from the hanger, draping it over my body, imagining how it would hug my curves.

"No...no," the sales manager said the moment she saw me, her voice cutting through my reverie. She rushed towards me with Pat standing and gawking incredulously. "You can't touch that."

I tightened my grip on the how, flaring with a deviance that didn't suit Irene.. "Why?" I demanded.

I didn't need to be timid before Pat. Only Carlos Alvarez deserved that.

"I have been given a blank cheque to get whatever I want." I thrust the gown towards her. "You think I am not worth it?"

I unclasped it before she could say anything and the gown fell on the ground. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

A thousand dollars sound..

Two shrieks echoed. Pat's gasp and the manager's cry. The sales manager rushed to retrieve the gown but I stepped on it, ripping it.

"Irene!" Pat's voice was sharp, her eyes wide with horror.

"What have you done?!" the manager wailed, clutching the ruined dress.

I faced Pat who was watching the scene, teary eyes and beyond appalled.

"You said it, didn't you?" I snapped at her. "I'm the face of Carlos Alvarez. How dare she treat me this way?"

She shook her head with trembling voice. "That dress is worth thousands of dollars, Irene. You can't abuse the boss's generosity."

That was why she was stuck in a mini skirt and an automated voice at her age because of her lack of ambition, thinking Carlos was doing the best for her.

Blah blah blah...

I would have made enough money to own a private yacht if I had been her.

I rolled my eyes and pointed at the gown that was now resting on the sales manager's hand as she talked to security on the phone.

"That doesn't count," I said, unfazed. "I'll begin my picking if you don't mind."

I saw her face turn pale. Had she thought I was some saint? For someone who worked for Carlos Alvarez, she should be accustomed to cruelty.

Why pretend?

I moved to the cloth rack and was reaching for another dress when I heard a male voice.

"Ma'am," it said.

I ignored it. That was surely the security man she was calling.

But when I felt his hand against my back, I became enraged.

"How dare you?!" I demanded, seething.

Evelyn was dying to come to the surface. I wanted so badly to tell them off about how I was a billionaire disguised in poor clothing and...

Stick to the plot, Sara. Please.

This was going to be too hard.

"I did nothing wrong," I added, my voice dropping. The police man who had been taken aback by my outburst suddenly grew courage.

""You were reported for damaging a dress." he said.

I scoffed. "That's not what happened -"

"I'm sorry ma'am. But you'll have to leave."

Who would believe a lady in faded jeans?

I bit my lips and stared at him defiantly. "I'll be back."

The ride back to Alvarez's estate was quiet. Pat kept stealing glances at me with palpable judgement. She must have misjudged me initially

They always did.

Well, at least, I wouldn't be getting any more advice from her.

But as soon as we arrived, her mouth became a running faucet without control as she spilled everything to Carlos Alvarez. She was in the next room. But I could hear everything from the hall.

"...made a mess of a dress worth hundreds of dollars. We're lucky that they aren't demanding payment."

I heard fist slapping a desk and my heart lurched.

Okay.

Maybe I had gone way too far.

Did I forget that I was working for Carlos Alvarez? The Carlos Alvarez that had a snipper trained on me as I walked into his domain?

My throat suddenly became dry and I strained my ears to hear what he wanted to say.

Anything.

But nothing.

Then I heard his voice. Calm but angry. He was on a call. I didn't have the courage to move closer to the office to hear what he was saying. My heart was racing. Today could as well be my last day alive.

And my twins? Who would take care of them?

I bit my lips to stop the tears and my hands from trembling

Calm down, Sara. You've got this.

But I've got nothing but trouble. A very big trouble at that.

I had secured a job I didn't want and somehow found a way to provoke my boss a few hours later. And not just any boss.

Carlos Alvarez.

I reached for my phone. Maybe I should let Sean know that I wasn't returning back and he had to swear to me that he would take care of my twins and keep them away from their father.

Or maybe, it would be best if he knew. He would take care of them. But he had to promise. No step mother.

How the hell was I going to arrange all that right now? Thomas Grey didn't even know I had twins for him.

My life is pretty messed up, I know.

I fumbled for my phone, trying to find Sean's contact. Where the hell was it?

I stopped.

Take a deep breath, Sara.

Carlos was still on the call and I had no idea if it was a call for my execution. But I had time. Time to arrange for my departure.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply.

My eyes flew to the phone screen and I found his name. I had forgotten I hadn't saved his name as Sean in my state of anxiety.

My relationship with Sean - it was difficult to define. But right now, he identified as my babe.

I was about to hit call when footsteps echoed from the office. Heavy, deliberate. Carlos was coming for me.