Page 22 of Arranged Control

He was my secret. An open secret, but still. I was being careful and discreet with him, and because of that, I was allowed to keep the relationship going. I could be myself when he was around. The bratva and my family name didn’t factor into our time together. Things were so simple with him, and yeah, maybe he was using me for my nice apartment, but still.

Seamus dragged me back to reality.

I miss the pleasant lie I was living.

It’s around nine in the morning on a Thursday. The boutique’s closed for the day. I sit in my living room with coffee and a book, trying to get some reading done, but I keep getting distracted by my phone. Doomscroll, look at words, doomscroll more, look at words, over and over, until all I want to do is throw my phone across the room.

Until the apartment phone buzzes. “Kira MacPherson here for you.”

“Send her up.”

What’s she doing here right now? I check my phone but there are no missed calls or texts. Last time we talked was yesterday at the store while we were closing together. I open the door and she comes waltzing into my apartment a minute later, wearing sweats, her hair messy and pulled back, carrying two huge iced coffees.

“Aren’t you ready?!” She stares at me in surprise. “Seriously, Alina, you’re not going like that, are you?”

I look down at myself. I’m in my ratty sweats, an old sports bra, and underwear that should’ve been replaced five years ago. “Uh, I didn’t realize we were going anywhere?”

“What are you talking about?” She frowns, cocking her head. “I got the confirmation call last night. They said you were first on the list for today.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Celeste Delacroix?! Her workshop in Tribeca? In like—” She checks her phone. “Fifteen minutes?”

I stare mutely, trying to process. Celeste Delacroix is everything in the fashion world right now. She’s notoriously picky about clients and only releases one line every year with no fanfare and no press release. One day her clothes appear in certain retailers, and nobody knows how to get on that list. God knows I’ve been trying forever.

“I don’t get it. Celeste’s assistants won’t even acknowledge my calls, let alone get me an appointment.”

“It’s not for buying, it’s for shopping.” Kira stalks over and grabs me by the shoulders. “For yourwedding dress. Are you hearing me?! Your wedding dress!”

This makes no sense. “I didn’t even know Celestemadewedding dresses.”

“She does now, apparently. I don’t know how, but you’re on the list, and it’s happening today.”

“Are you sure we’re not getting scammed?”

“Positive. Trust me. That was my first thought.” She rubs her lower back. “I like my kidneys where they are.”

“So how do you know this is legit?”

“Double-checked. Asked around. I definitely spoke with Celeste’s personal assistant, and we’re absolutely on the list for today. So if you want a dress from the best designer in New York?—”

I peel away from Kira. Horror fills my stomach. “You said fifteen minutes.”

“I thought you’d be ready!”

I run up the stairs and into my bedroom. Off come the trashy underwear, and on goes a more respectable pair. I slip into nicer sweats, something respectable, and do what I can about my hair and face, all in approximately five minutes.

“We’re going to be late,” I groan as we rush downstairs. I nearly trip and spill the freaking iced coffee all over myself.

“Listen to me, Alina, if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure you get to this appointment on time. Do you hear me?”

“What if we don’t?!”

“There’s nowhat if. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” I say softly.

“Good.” She marches through the lobby. “Now don’t comment on my driving because I’m about to break some laws.”