Page 49 of To Hell

She searches my eyes, curiosity, and suspicion intertwining in her gaze. “A bargain?”

I nod, “Yes. I mean, heaven forbid I become your apprentice. You would seize the opportunity to poke me with pins.”

She draws her eyebrows tight for a second, then bursts into another bolt of laughter. I was hoping she would do that.

Hearing her laugh is addicting.

“I would never,” she slows her laugh, her body still vibrating. She is promising something. Something bigger than what is in plain sight.

I can’t say why, but my hand shoots to the corner of her lips, and I stroke the smile line on her face before she wisps it off.

“Met Gala,” she slams back her fort, cowering like a rain-beaten cat and I retrieve my hand.

“Right,” I nod, clearing my throat and slipping back into what she is used to. “I can get you tickets to the Met Gala and accompany you there,” her eyes expand with trickles of excitement in them. Still, I continue to the important part of the deal. “In exchange, I need you to come with me to my mother's wedding as my girlfriend.”

Her face falls, “In exchange? But I'm already your property... You don't need to offer me a bargain to get me to comply.”

Fair point.

She does not even have to accompany me, but I have a record of going a little crazy when she is involved. I nod, thinking my next sentence through carefully so I don’t rat myself out for being impulsive around her.

“I did buy you,” the words like chalk on my tongue, “that is true… but if you agree willingly, it will be more convincing. They need to believe that you genuinely care about me and that our relationship is real.” It's more like I wish this could be the case.

“I’m not sure I’m a good actor,” she fumbles with the container in her grip.

The word actor punches me in the gut. The idea that she would have to put on an act to show that she cares for me, and even then, she doubts that she could pull off the trick, is worse than torture.

Still, I continue. “This isn't just about showing up. It's about selling the story. If they suspect you're being forced, it could create more problems than it solves. Questions will arise, and the whole thing could backfire.”

She inhales shaky a breath, chewing on her lips, “So, you need me to play the part convincingly, and you think offering a bargain will make me more believable?”

I nod, “Exactly. If you have something to gain from this and a reason to be there beyond just following orders, it will be much better.”

“I can try,” she mumbles.

I add, melting my tone, “I trust you to understand the stakes and play the part well. This is about protecting us from unwanted attention or suspicion.”

“I will try,” she sounds more confident this time.

“Deal or no deal?” I hold her gaze and memories of her beside my locker in high school flash through my mind.

She goes blank for a second, as if she is back there, too. “Deal,” she breaks eye contact and drops her head.

Chapter Twenty-Six

VIRGILIO

It’s been three days since I last heard Zoe’s laughter.

I keep replaying it in my head, and if I could, I would impress it onto a vinyl and sit in my office all day listening to it with the darkness as my companion.

I have never felt as much charge of light as when her laughter broke through my blinds and exposed my drab soul to its intense light.

I swirl the whiskey glass in my hand, waiting impatiently for the evening to come, so we can get on to the first part of our deal.

The Met Gala is today, later this evening, and I have done the first fitting of one of the suits. I can’t choose a favorite or wear them all at once. So I told her to pick the one she thinks will complement her outfit.

She has outdone herself. Her dedication and commitment to her craft are commendable, and after the Met Gala, I should find a way to enforce rest on her. I’m sure her back and fingers hurt from working nonstop.

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