The Con Artist

Sara's POV

Lying on the soft plush bed didn't make the thought of seeing that sniper all so scary anymore.

If anything, I knew I was safely guarded.

It's not everyday you see a billionaire with a hired sniper.

And the cherry on top?

I had just strutted before the mirror in ten luxurious dresses, each one a masterpiece from Elysian Court. Maybe working for a mafia boss had its perks.

I was beyond thrilled. My eyes moved to the ceiling. No more the squeaky noise of Sean's fan. The ceiling had nothing but a big chandelier. One that was adorned with precious crystals..

I was sure they would fetch a fortune.

My phone buzzed beside me and I hoped it wasn't Thomas. He wasn't turning me into the canary that would serenade him to sleep now, was he?

It was Sean.

"Babe," his masculine voice filled my ear.

But his masculinity had not been able to afford me this life. Sean had been a part of my life when I was struggling. A sudden orphan with no roof above her head. He had taken me in, and maybe, in the beginning I had fallen in love. But our relationship was scarcely about love these days.

It was survival.

"When will you be back?" He continued when I didn't respond.

His question made me snort.

Back? Never.

He could enjoy the hotel room for the six days left, and hopefully, my sponsor wouldn't come knocking.

"You deal with Trey if he comes, okay?" I said, reeling with excitement.

"Deal with -? What do you mean? Where the hell are you? You promised some fun tonight."

"You'll still have some fun, Sean," I shot back. "You get the whole room to yourself. No lady would reject a man who's in a lounge. You can get one for six days or one for each day."

"Where the fuck are you?!"

I stood up and sauntered towards the welcome bottle of wine Pat had dropped before leaving, my feet soft against the warm rug lying on the floor. It had been a great joy seeing her scowl while she served me.

Now she knew my place.

I uncorked it while Sean waited for a response. He must have heard the pouring glug of the rich liquid because his tone shifted.

"You're still at Alvarez's?"

I set down the cup with a dramatic sigh. At least, in this space - my space - I can live my dream life.

"Where else would I be, Sean? In your rusty apartment?"

I could see him shaking his head and biting his lower lips. He always does that when he thinks I'm making a mistake - which I was sure is going through his mind presently.

"You're making a mistake, Sara-"

"It's Irene," I fired. "Don't ruin this for me."

"How much is he paying you to accept to stay in his house?"

About that...

I eyed the contract letter that was now resting on a table. Earlier, it had arrived with my bottle of wine. And the only fascinating thing there was the figures.

I threw my head to the head rest of the chair and crossed my leg. I could assume at night that I was actually a sore heir, having the time of her life. With a private sniper to safeguard me. A gift from my father.

"You have no idea," I purred.

"Tell me," he insisted. "We're business partners after all, aren't we?"

I shot up. "Guess."

"I expect nothing but a thousand."

I drew circles on the table with a satisfying smile plastered on my face. "You would want to add an 's' to that, Sean. Did you see the pictures I sent this afternoon?"

Of course. I couldn't relish my perfect outlook this afternoon alone. I had to send a few to Sean. If I operated a social media account - which I didn't; rule of being a successful con artist - I would have posted a few.

You either be an influencer or a con artist.

And influencers are the ones jumping off roofs daily. I'd pass.

"I see why you don't want to leave."

His tone had changed suddenly. Sean was always...Sean.

"Not like I had a choice," I said. "Carlos wants me here. And yes, he told me to address him as Carlos."

"Well, don't you dare get a Carlos baby."

I choked on the drink in my mood, spluttering.

"What's that supposed to mean.?"

"Well ...you're looking all hot and staying under his roof. It took you one night to carry Thomas's kids, didn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Your mouth will put you in a big mess, Sean. Why am I stuck with you?"

"I'm like that toxic boyfriend you can't leave because you love chaos."

I scoffed. "No, Sean. At this point, I'm the toxic one and you're the one who can't leave."

"You're toxic, Sara. I agree."

"Irene Peters to you, Sean."

I stood up and walked to the bed. Falling on it was like falling into clouds.

"Goodnight, Sean. Make sure you enjoy that hotel room because you won't be seeing another one until this..." I lowered my voice. "...mission is over."

"Just don't sleep with Mr. Alvarez. It always starts with calling them by their first name."

I rolled my eyes. "Just like I have you baby, Sean."

"You would never have a baby for a poor man."

"My ovaries reject poverty, Sean."

I ended the call and stared at the chandelier's prisms. And then I realised. Carlos had mentioned something about a shipment and he wasn't back home.

This was the right time to start shuffling throughout the house. Carlos was away, slicing life out of some good and bad boys. And Pat was home, sulking.

All that was left here was a watchful sniper.

He couldn't be that dangerous now, could he?

Sara's POV

The corridor was long and silent like a graveyard.

Whoever designed this house was a psycho that hated people. Because...why was my door a hundred feet away from the next door?

Seems it was a mansion with just three rooms and the main rooms were long corridors just designed to keep everyone at arms length from each other.

I scoffed annoyingly and gently closed my door.

Not that anyone would hear me.

I knew where the CCTV cameras were already. While Pat led me to my room, my eyes had caught them all.

Straightening my back, I walked confidently. I was just going to get a cup of water after concentrating my poor system with that glorious wine. Or, I was just admiring the mansion.

That wasn't a crime.

It was art.

The endless corridor led to a spiraling staircase. One part descending to the hall that I had entered the first time. And the other arm, ascending to the quarters that Carlos occupied.

I grabbed the second arm and started my ascent.

My spectacles were on. It gave the look of who had no idea of what she was doing. Maybe there was an eye condition that made up look like down. And I was suffering from it.

I laughed at my joke and kept going up the stairs. Another waste-of-money stairs later, I arrived at another corridor.

Now, this corridor was certainly Carlos' quarters. From the marbled floor to the picture frames lining it, and the bright chandeliers, everything screamed luxury. My skin prickled with desire.

I thought of the two million dollars Thomas had promised me. It couldn't get me a mansion like this - this screamed billions. But I could afford something like this.

Something mine.

I could imagine Sam chasing Sophie around.

It was a dream worth working hard for.

And that was enough motivation.

I moved, eyes straight. I saw the cameras. But I wasn't stealing. I was just looking around. No harm in discovering the place you're living in.

And I had to be quick.

Carlos' large bedroom door loomed ahead. I expected there would be a secret door that led to a secret passageway. It was like that in every goddamned bad guy story.

Carlos couldn't be any different.

I stopped before the door and knocked like I thought he was in the room.

Even though Carlos had bought me some conditioners and I had treated my fake hair, I didn't forget my signature. I tousled a handful of my fringe in my hand, waiting.

Knocked again.

"Mr. Alvarez?"

That was enough.

I pushed the door open. Not like Carlos would be going over his CCTV recording everyday. Records like that were only meant for important days.

Carlos' room was heavenly. There wasn't even a word to describe it.

And frankly? I would be willing to be Mrs. Alvarez if he could give up this room. The coolness, mixed with the fragrance, embraced me, pulled me in.

It was almost palpable.

And the bed?

Oh, father!

I wanted to touch it. Feel it. It was surely softer than mine and I wanted to know the feeling.

But the image of a nameless lady riding him on that bed threw my eyes away.

Once I had shut the door, I threw my facade away. No one puts a CCTV camera in their room. At least, not a mafia boss. He wasn't a porn star at the very least. Neither a creep.

There were endless drawers in the room. Locked.

And I had no key.

So, I moved to the table. Strewn on it were documents.

Thomas said he needed something. I was going to get him something, okay.

They were mostly receipts. Things he was buying. The receipts were in thousands. Millions.

My heart raced as I read through them.

I didn't know if they would be important for Thomas. But evidence is evidence.

I took pictures of as many as I could.

But something else called me. The light and coolness coming from the inner room. I could see its blue reflection against the soft curtains. And even the way the curtains draped over the window was like a fantasy.

I would have walked to the window and imagined myself as the owner of the room. Picture what Carlos saw when he woke.

But not with that belly-down man.

I moved to the inner room. It was a storage room, as expected. Gold watches. Rolex. Designer suits. Diamond chain. A shrine of wealth.

They all screamed my name.

'Evelyn Rodriguez, come to us!'

I stood there, hesitant. This wasn't why I was here.

But how could Evelyn remain later in the presence of money?

I'll just have a feel.

That would be enough to give me financial orgasm. Imran the suit through my hand. Carlos' smell was woven to them like the very fabric.

The smell was intoxicating. I shut my eyes and sniffed.

God.

I shouldn't be doing this...

But I did anyway. I ran my hand through the fabric, weighing its worth. The weight of wealth was strangely...

Light and breathtaking.

Those fabrics were too good to cost less than a million dollars.

I ran the chain through my fingers and lifted the watch.

My mistake.

Because the moment I did, I realised there was a hidden fingerprint panel underneath. The automated voice threatened me, slicing through the quiet.

"Fingerprint."

I stared in horror, thought of a bullet slicing through my brain, and returned to the glaring , unyielding screen.

I had been reckless.

How was I going to explain this to Carlos? How do I explain lifting his Rolex?

This time I wouldn't be getting a deal. In fact, I wouldn't be getting prison. I bit my lips tightly and watched as the blue light on the screen turned red.

"Thirty seconds," it threatened.

I groaned in agony and watched as the time ticked away. Tears stung my eyes and I fell on my knees..

If I survived this, I was done. No more Carlos Alvarez. Thomas Grey could kiss hell.

But how was I going to survive this?

"Ten seconds," the machine chimed, despite my agony.

I stood up, undecided. But when I saw the time blinking three seconds, I slapped the watch on the panel.

And then...

Silence.

My heart nearly stopped.

I didn't care about Thomas's mission anymore. I bolted from the room, swearing never to return.

Mrs. Alvarez?

Damn that fantasy!.

Sara's POV

"Look you very best. We have a gala to attend tonight."

Day one of working for Carlos Alvarez and I was already hating it.

I saw his face twist into a frown. "Is that acknowledged?"

I nodded, digging my fork into meat.

Why the hell was I having breakfast with him in the first place? Everything about this place screamed weird and even as I forced the meal down my throat, I waited for him to say it.

To say he knew I had snuck into his room and tried to steal his Rolex. Last night, I had stared at the crystal chandelier in my room, those sharp crystals no longer a marvel but now a threat, as I figured out the perfect lie to cover up for what I did.

But nothing explained it lightly. Nothing sounded convincing.

I had fallen asleep somewhere between accepting my fate and thinking of how to escape. The soft bed had carried my burdens away, enticing me into Dreamland that I didn't even hear the knock on the door.

Not until he was right over my face, crouched. His face twisted into disgust like the sight of me sleeping was an eyesore.

I had screamed when I saw his face the moment I woke up. It was like staring at hell from heaven

He straightened.

"Didn't you hear me knock?" he snapped.

I was in a lingerie for crying out loud!

Presently, I forced myself to eat breakfast. I wasn't a breakfast person. Coffee always did the trick. Helped my brain stay active. That was how you have a successful day.

But this meal...it was like a last supper. A supper that came in the morning. A beautiful way to depict my glorious life coming to an untimely end. The meat was exquisite, but it tasted like dread. I could already picture Pat's smug face when Carlos sentenced me.

And my twins-?

"Don't you like meat?" his voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

I dropped the fork startled by the sound invading my thoughts and stared at him.

"Pardon?"

"Are you a vegetarian?"

I nodded and shook my head, flustered.

"I mean...it's lovely. But I love a good cup of coffee to start my morning. But this is fine all the same."

He listened to what I had said - supposedly. Nodded. And then continued eating.

"You need good food for the brain," he finally spoke. "Makes you smart."

My school of thought was: it made one dull. Maybe the morning cups of coffee that he missed was the reason I was still alive.

I forced a smile and choked down a handful.

Yummy.

Yuck!

The agonizing breakfast was over and somehow I was still alive. Carlos hadn't mentioned anything about a break in.

My date with Thomas Grey was in a few days. I was going to hand over the receipts, and for his sake, they had better be good enough because I was so done with the Irene Peters act.

Aside from barging into my space, being Carlos' personal assistant came with some perks. I was free all morning, sitting in my room, and letting my mind wander off.

I thought of all the possibilities. A city far away from here. Two million dollars in hand. Endless luxuries.

Sure. I would quit conning and start a business. My past would remain right here in this city, whispered by its billionaires.

Evelyn Rodriguez, the legend.

Afternoon came by and I did a bit of mundane paper work. Nothing really much that would be of interest to my partner in crime. They were mostly formal invitations to his grand opening in months.

We all knew the truth though.

Carlos Alvarez already had an operational illegal business right here in this city. And the launching of a company was a needless distraction.

Needless, I say, because the cops were certainly aware of the underground activities of the mafia guy. I watched a lot of movies to know how it worked.

The hours stretched into evening when I was supposed to prepare for the gala. I had a short nap and was up before he barged into my room again.

I would have thought about making a statement with my outfit tonight if I wasn't sticking to being Irene.

A black gown never goes wrong. And pearl necklaces should be in every girl's collection. Everything was perfect. Everything but my damned black wig which I couldn't toss away.

I brushed the stubborn fringe and gathered the rest of the hair into a bun. A little spritz of perfume and a cheap lipgloss for effect.

I was ready.

Irene Peters stared at me through the reflection like Cinderella in a ball gown. I gave her a cheeky smile and exited the room.

I could perceive Carlos' cologne from a mile. Creed aventus. One of the very best. He stood in the hallway, barking commands to the other end of his call. The moment I stepped in, he stopped.

It was certainly not because I was breathtaking.

"Perfect," he said.

I smiled meekly.

The limo was waiting outside. We got in and it was a quiet ride to the venue. Even though I caught his gaze quite a few times. On me..

Maybe it was those damned fringes again.

City hall was where the limo stopped. Of course, I knew the place. I have been here twice. And each visit to this place enlarged my bank account. This was where I had met Charles Baker and Edward Marshal.

And tonight, I hoped I wouldn't be bumping into them. Or, at least, they wouldn't be recognising me. Carlos was lost in the crowd the moment he left the red carpet and paparazzi. I eyed the cameras, longing for the recognition the men and women got.

But alas for me. I was just a personal assistant.

At the very least, I could have a flute of champagne. I grabbed one from a walking waitress and settled in a space far from the crowd, afraid that I might be tempted to switch roles if I see a good catch.

I was on my phone when I heard a familiar voice shattered my calm.

"Evelyn?" It said."Evelyn. It is you."

I tightened my grip on my phone, face paling, refusing to look up. I knew who it was already. Charles Baker. I had swindled a lot of cash from him. And even if he had forgiven me, Carlos couldn't know about it.

I bit my lips, tasting blood and regret.