Page 57 of The Toy Collector

“Kind of,” I admit. Knowing that I have to give her something, I decide on a partial truth. “It just seems like there’s a lot more going on than I thought. Like maybe they’re pulling more strings than I knew even existed.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I was sitting in on a meeting, and it almost sounded as though there was more to it than what the public sees.” There, that’s not a lie. The meeting I listened to from beneath Enzo’s desk did sound like that.

Lena gently squeezes my arm. “Pipes,” she says warily. “Isn’t that exactly what politics is? Shady doings and backroom deals. I mean, this can’t be news to you.”

My throat tightens again. She's being an amazing friend—the best, really. And all I do is lie. “Yeah, I know,” I whisper. “But knowing and thenknowingis different. It’s messing with my head.”

“Don’t I get it.” Taking it upon herself to lift my mood, she throws herself into more stories, animatedly painting picture after picture about her own internship.

Instead of coming clean, I laugh at her stories and sip my now lukewarm coffee. I let her voice fill the spaces between us, so I don’t have to lie out loud. I nod and smile in all the right places, while a voice inside me screams for the relief of confession.

The city filters through her cracked kitchen window—a symphony of sirens, impatient horns, and distant shouts. The breeze shifts, and for a moment, I swear I catch a different scent beneath the rain. Expensive cologne and cigar smoke that doesn’t belong. I close my eyes, telling myself I’m imagining things.

“Okay,” Lena huffs, standing and stretching. “Enough brooding. Come help me pick slutty work-appropriate Halloween drag for next week.”

“You have plans?” I ask, grateful for the redirect.

“Duh. Ross is dragging me to some rooftop party for staffers, which means I need to look hot without making HR twitch.”

I trail behind her into her bedroom, where clothes are already scattered like she tried on looks before I even got here.

“Slutty FBI agent, slutty press secretary, or slutty… no, on second thought, the last one will never work.”

I raise an eyebrow as she tosses a silk camisole onto the bed. “That’s a lot of power for one wardrobe.”

We work our way through lace, fishnets, boots, latex, and basically, most items in what she calls her slutty wardrobe. Her Lena-ness is a welcome distraction, one I’ve missed more than I realized.

Hours later, Lena has finally settled on being an FBI agent with enough cleavage she really should ask for a license to kill.

“Damn,” I whistle as she does her fifth twirl in the mirror, striking a pose like she’s about to cuff someone for bad taste in shoes.

“Yeah?” When I eagerly nod, she shoots two finger guns into the mirror while pushing her breasts higher up. “No, I don’t think I need my special occasion push-up bra,” she decides.

Before I can brace myself, she turns back to me.

“What are your Halloween plans? Didn’t you say you had something fancy going on too with Blackwood?”

I reach for my phone and start scrolling for the outfit I bought. “Yeah. It’s at some private venue they own.” I keep my voice breezy, like it doesn’t mean anything. Like I’m not hoping Enzo will be there.

“What are you going as?” she asks, coming to sit next to me.

I pause, then swipe to the photo I saved earlier this week. “This. It’s kind of inspired by a toy—”

“A toy?” she laughs.

Nodding, I force myself to continue. “A doll, actually. Not a specific one, just dressed to impress.”

Lena peers at the image and whistles. “Damn, Pipes. This is—”

“Too much?” I interrupt, already second-guessing it.

“No,” she grins. “It’s perfect. It’s classy, it’s sexy, it’s… unsettling. But in a hot way.” She throws a pillow at me. “You’re going to look iconic. I just have one question…”

“What?”

She playfully waggles her eyebrows. “Who’s going to pull your string?”