Page 47 of His Lair

The device starts vibrating in my hand, the letter E flashing on the screen.

“Hello,” I answer.

“What happened?” Emmanuel asks.

“Jazzy invited me to dinner at Louie and Charlotte’s tonight and your dipshit friend went along with it like it was a great idea,” I groan.

“My dipshit friend?” Emmanuel chuckles.

“I can’t go to dinner with him, E. Send me away,” I whine.

“Why not?”

“What do you meanwhy not? Because I don’t need people knowing what I’m doing with Sammie,” I state the obvious. “They’re all going to know.”

“It’s just dinner. I’d prefer you to attend anyway. Evie’s gonna be there. The more capable people around her, the better,” he says.

“Argh, do you have any idea how exhausting it is pretending to be someone you’re not?” I ask him.

“No. Because I never have to pretend,” he tells me.

“How much will he hate me, E? When he finds out the truth?” I know it’s inevitable.

“Lailani Miller, are you in love?”

“No,” I huff. “That would be stupid.”

“Sure.” He cuts the call in true Emmanuel style. No goodbye, notalk to you later. Just a click that tells me he’s done.

Nerves are something I’m not familiar with. I don’t get nervous, which is why I’m so frustrated at myself right now. Because I am nervous. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not me. So, what if Sammie’s friends don’t like me? They’re not even getting the real version of me.

This job will end soon. I’m sure of it. And then I’ll be nothing but a distant memory. The thought of leaving Sammie—leaving Jazzy—bothers me. I’ve gotten attached and that’s not supposed to happen. I blame Emmanuel. I’m not supposed to be undercover for this long.

I purposely walk two steps behind Sammie after telling him we don’t know each other, much to his disapproval. I think if it were up to him, he’d stroll in with my hand in his, declaring us official. The thought of him doing that, of publicly claiming me, gives me butterflies. Another foreign sensation.

My anxiety eases a little when I see Emmanuel. He’s already here. I’m still pissed at him for not sending me out to the Amazonian jungle. Seriously, if anyone had business out there, it’d be him. But I’m relieved to see a friendly face. Not that his face isfriendlyin the least, more familiar. Even if I can’t go up and talk to him.

“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Emmanuel asks Sammie while smirking at me.

“Lailani.” I hold out a hand to him, and he takes it.

“Emmanuel, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Lailani, you’re here. Come on, you can sit with me.” Jazzy saves me by grabbing my arm and tugging me through the apartment until we enter a dining room.

This is more awkward than I thought it would be. The only good part is watching Emmanuel lose his cool when it comes to Evie. He’s like a lost puppy. I’ve literally never seen him like this before. When he dropped into the club that one time, I was too focused on Sammie to notice. But now, sitting across from him, I get to observe it all. The way he can’t stop looking at her, the way she’s doing everything to pretend he doesn’t exist.

Interesting.I feel for her. She has absolutely no chance of avoiding him. I know Emmanuel. If he wants something, he is going to get it by any means. Including this woman.

The dinner goes by without incident. It’s a little strange. I’m constantly waiting for the bomb to drop. The one that Emmanuel seems convinced is coming to this city, to his friends. I keep waiting to figure out the reason I’ve been planted here. At first, I thought he just wanted me to spy on them, but after watching the way they interact, I don’t think that anymore.

As soon as dinner is over, I make an excuse to leave. When Sammie goes to walk me out, I shake my head at him, and thankfully he stops.

By the time I get home, I’m more at ease. Not as anxious. I don’t do well in social situations. I never really have. I’ve never been the type to have big friend groups like that. Hence my only friend is a cartel leader. The biggest drug lord in Mexico, also someonewho I have no doubt wouldn’t blink twice before cutting my head off if he felt the need to do so.

The sound of my phone ringing snaps me out of my thoughts. “Dad? Are you okay?” I answer, shocked that he’s actually calling me.

“I’m good. How are you?”