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It worries me. Does he really like me? Or am I here for some ulterior motive?
“Do you think…?” I hesitate, wondering if I can honestly trust Violet. “Do you think I’m here as some type of pawn? Just part of the game for Aziel to get Santiago?” I hate that I think this way. That even a part of me thinks Aziel could be using me in any way.
But then I think of him and everything he’s done for me. What everyone in this clubhouse has done for me and Lilah. And I have a hard time believing it.
“Are you kidding me?” She gives me a little shove. “If you think that, I might be second guessing our friendship a little bit.”
I shake my head, looking up at her apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. It’s … it’s a little shocking to hear how much Aziel hates Santiago. The man who held me hostage for basically a quarter of my life.”
She squeezes my thigh. “The Mexican cartel kidnapped one of Aziel’s best friend’s wife.”
I gasp. “Oh, no. What’s her name?” I go through the mental catalogue in my brain and try to remember if the name Aziel has ever came up.
Violet shakes her head. “You wouldn’t know her. They rescued her before she was taken over the border. But it was pretty traumatizing for all of them. There was a little beef going on before that, but her getting kidnapped took it over the edge. All I know, is since then Aziel has been trying to take down the Mexican cartel’s sex trafficking ring.”
I shake my head. This is all an emotional and mental overload.
“Perfect.” She grabs my shoulders and turns me around to face the mirror.
My jaw unhinges as I stare at the transformation in front of me. My blonde, wavy, hair has tuned into large, wavy curls. My blonde sun-kissed hair shines extra bright with whatever product she put in my hair. My makeup is bold, not something that I’m used to. The nearly black smoky eyes make my blue eyes stand out. A touch of bronzer tints my sharp cheek bones. A dark grayish black makes my lips pop.
The bruises on my face are long faded, but the lingering tint of brownish green discoloration has been miraculously covered by her makeup.
“Wow. What is my costume?”
“You…” She bends down, grabbing the bag by the bathtub and pulling out a black piece. “Are the angel of death.” She grabs a set of wings that are so realistic, I can’t help but reach out and touch them. The lacy dress is a strapless one piece that looks like it’ll fit my body like a glove. The wings are soft, each feather blackened and shiny, it’s inky color the blackest of black I’ve ever seen.
“This is awesome.” I breathe.
“I was debating between this or my costume, but I thought you’d be a better angel than me.” She shakes it in front of me. “Put it on.”
I pull off my t-shirt and jeans, taking extra care while pulling the shirt over my head to protect my makeup and curly hair.
I unhook my bra and keep my panties on, sliding my dress over my waist and letting the dress curl around my body like it’s made for me. “Wow, it fits perfectly.” I turn around, seeing her frowning at my back.
I instantly freeze, but she’s not shy about it. She reaches up, trailing her finger down my back. “What you had to have gone through… I can’t even imagine. I thought my life was shitty, but yours… it must have been a literal hell.”
“I think I would have preferred hell.” I say honestly. And that’s the truth. There is no place worse than where I lived. I would have traded it for anything, literally anything.
“I’m glad Aziel saved you. Maybe it was meant to be.” She says, grabbing my wings and hooking them on the back of my dress.
I bite my lip. “Maybe.”
“Okay, enough before I cry. Let’s go downstairs and have a good night. But to top off your outfit…” She reaches into her bag once more and pulls out a pair of black high heeled combat booties. “These are my babies, so you better not ruin them.”
“Well why don’t you wear them?”
“Because I knew they’d look badass with your costume. Come on, let’s go.”
“I’m only going to go for a little bit.” I emphasize. I’m not planning to get shit wasted drunk like the guys do all the time. I’ll show face because I’m forced to, but then I want to come back to the solitude and my daughter.
Sliding the booties onto my feet, I feel winded as I zip them up on the side of my foot. They reach about mid-shin. The heels are much taller than I’m used to, sitting about three inches higher, at least.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go.” She waves me off, putting her makeup back into her bag and turning off the light.
I give once last glance to Lilah as we walk out. Still sound asleep.
One of the prospects is already outside, texting on his phone with a beer in his free hand.
