Chapter 15: The Unlikely Ally
855 Words
"You drive like someone who is trying to outrun their own shadow," Elena said, her voice barely audible over the rush of the wind.
I eased my foot off the accelerator, the silver convertible slowing as the narrow mountain roads smoothed out into the entrance of the town. I glanced at her. Elena was tucked into the passenger seat, her silk headscarf fluttering. She had been quiet since we left the villa, but it wasn't the awkward silence of a stranger. It was the observant silence of a woman who had spent years navigating rooms full of men like Julian and Michael.
"Maybe I am," I replied, pulling the car into a shaded parking spot near the square. "Or maybe I’m just enjoying the fact that I’m the one behind the wheel for once."
Elena stepped out of the car, smoothing her skirt. "Michael was surprised I asked to join you. He seemed to think you preferred your own company."
"Michael thinks a lot of things," I said, locking the doors with a sharp chirp. "Most of them involve me being exactly where he left me."
We walked toward the row of high-end boutiques, the cobblestones clicking beneath our heels. Elena stopped in front of a window displaying minimalist gold jewelry. She didn't look at the gold; she looked at my reflection in the glass.
"Thank you," she said suddenly. "For last night. I heard what happened at the table. No one usually speaks up when Julian gets like that. Especially not the 'plus-ones.'"
I met her gaze in the reflection. "You aren't a 'plus-one,' Elena. You’re a person. I just reminded him of that."
"In this world, those two things are often mutually exclusive," she murmured. "But I see you, Olivia. You aren't just 'back.' You’re playing a very dangerous game of pretend. I recognize the look in your eyes. I had it once, too."
Before I could answer, the bell above a nearby cafe door jingled.
"Well, look at this," a melodic, mocking voice drifted across the pavement. "The rescue mission and the damsel in distress, out for a stroll."
Sloane was leaning against a stone pillar, a shopping bag looped over her arm and a cold press juice in her hand. She looked impeccable, her eyes shielded by dark, expensive lenses. She stepped forward, her gaze raking over us with practiced condescension.
"I didn't realize Michael allowed you to have friends, Olivia," Sloane said, stopping inches from me. "I thought he kept you on a much shorter leash. Though, I suppose after that display in the restroom, he figured you needed a handler."
I felt the familiar heat of anger rise in my throat, but I kept my hands steady at my sides. "The only person on a leash here is you, Sloane. You’re just waiting for Michael to whistle so you can run back to the guest house."
Sloane’s lips curled into a smirk. "Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night? That I’m just the help? Because the way Michael was looking at me over the appetizers told a very different story. He likes the 'dutiful girl' at home, sure. But he craves the woman who knows how to keep him awake until dawn."
I opened my mouth to respond, but Elena stepped forward, her posture turning ice-cold.
"That's enough," Elena said, her voice vibrating with a quiet, lethal authority. "You’re making a scene, Sloane. And frankly, you’re embarrassing yourself."
Sloane turned her sneer toward Elena. "And who are you? Julian’s latest charity case? Stay out of this."
"I am the woman who knows exactly which offshore accounts Julian uses to pay your 'consulting fees' every month," Elena replied, stepping into Sloane’s personal space. "And I’m the woman who can make sure those accounts are frozen by lunchtime. If you say one more word to Olivia, I will make it my personal mission to ensure that the only 'staying awake until dawn' you do is wondering how you’re going to pay your rent."
The silence that followed was absolute. Sloane’s smirk didn't just fade—it vanished. She looked at Elena, then at me, the calculation behind her eyes shifting into a sharp, jagged fear.
"This isn't over," Sloane hissed, though she was already stepping back.
"It is for today," Elena said, watching her go.
We stood there for a moment as Sloane disappeared around the corner. I turned to Elena, my heart still racing from the adrenaline.
"You didn't have to do that."
Elena adjusted her scarf, her expression softening back into that weary, knowing calm. "Yes, I did. Women like her only understand power. And women like us... we have to remind them that we know where the bodies are buried."
She gestured toward the boutique at the end of the block. "Now, let’s go. I believe you have a plum-colored dress to find, and I have a feeling you’re going to want to look like a queen tonight."
- Writer
