Leila's POV
I crossed three trains and a borrowed Uber to reach a house I didn't belong in. The Upper East Side didn't smell like burnt coffee and corner bodegas, it smelled like money. And power. And the kind of cold you can't layer your way out of and I was not going to let Alexis, my cousin, some haters, and a fake Fiance I'm beginning to loathe ruin the experience for me.
The couch leg scraped against the tiled floor as I grunted, my arms straining under the weight.
"Lift higher, Leila!" Zara barked between her own groans, her braid swinging across her shoulder as she hoisted her side.
"I am lifting!" I shot back through clenched teeth, my arms trembling. "If I lift any higher, my spine is going to crack and I'm not sure my health insurance can get me a spine surgery."
She snorted
