Page 17 of Solemn Vow

“Margaret, can you get her coat and show her to the salon we’ve set up for the girls?” Sandra Randall instructs a member of her house staff who pops up out of nowhere in her uniform of black tunic with large dark gray lapels and a pair of black slacks.

Margaret nods and reaches for my coat.

“Of course, Mrs. Randall.” She aims her professional smile at me. “Right this way, miss.”

“Oh. You can call me Marlena,” I say to her as I follow her down the hallway then down another, to a set of stairs that takes us down to another floor.

“You can set up here. The girls will be down after they’ve finished their dinner.” Margaret opens the door to a room that has been changed into a full salon. There are two stations set up that rival what I have at Luxe Strands.

“Is someone else coming too?” I ask, gesturing to the second station.

“No. Mrs. Randall thought it would be more authentic to have more than one chair. There are five girls; you’ll have no problem, right?” Worry crosses her face, like if I say no, she’s the one who’s going to hear about it.

“Yeah. No problem.” I swipe a hand through the air.

I don’t think I’ve ever been more wrong.

The girls file in only a minute after I set up my supplies. Two of them want nothing to do with having their hair touched, which works fine with me. The other three are extremely specific about what they want done, and it takes me a full twenty minutes to convince one of them that dying her hair isn’t a good choice.

It’s two hours before the birthday girl decides she’s done with all the makeover nonsense and takes everyone to the media room for popcorn and a movie.

Relief fills me as they run out of the room, and I sink into the chair for a quick breath before packing my stuff.

If I hurry, I might make it back to my apartment while the coffee house is still open. Maybe I’ll even splurge and get an extra shot of espresso in my latte.

“The girls loved it!” Mrs. Randall boasts when she finds me in the front hallway, getting my coat on. “I know I already paid your fee, but here’s a little extra. Bianca is rare to compliment, but she came up with the other girls and told me how much fun she had.” She hands me a white envelope.

“Oh. Thank you, that’s so good to hear.” Bianca had spent the first twenty minutes complaining about the colors of eyeshadow she had to pick from, so this is unexpected. The tip is greatly appreciated. I guess I will splurge on that extra espresso now.

“Sandra, I have a breakfast meeting in the morning. I’ll come by and pick Marissa up after.”

I jerk my gaze to the intruder, and my stomach clenches almost as tightly as my jaw.

Michael Agosti stands in the doorway just behind Mrs. Randall, wiggling his hand into a pair of leather gloves. When our eyes meet, his jaw tics.

“Marlena. What are you doing here?” His eyebrows lower as he waves a finger at me. He’s aged since the last time I saw him. In the last three years, he’s gone from charcoal black hair to a soft salt and pepper. More salt around the temples. There’re deep bags beneath his eyes.

I guess running one of the largest car theft rings in the city doesn’t give him much time for sleep.

“She’s the makeover girl.” Sandra looks at me with surprise. A moment passes and her shoulders drop, and something like disappointment crosses her features.

“Not here, Michael.” She shakes her head with a whisper. “I won’t lie for you.”

“It’s not that,” Michael assures her. “I promise, it’s not that. Let me have a minute with Marlena.”

She pinches her lips together, sweeps her gaze over me, and disappointment turns into pity.

“It’s not what you think, Mrs. Randall. I swear,” I try to assure her, but her heels are already clicking away on the marble flooring as she heads down the hall.

“I didn’t realize you were still in Chicago.” Michael levels me with a cold stare.

I swallow. I should have asked Mrs. Randall to stay.

“I never left the city. Just the job.” I finish closing up my coat, shoving the envelope into my pocket.

“You sure?” His voice dips as he takes a step toward me. Like a creepy asshole holding out a bag of candy to an ignorant kid who doesn’t know better.

Michael was an option when there were none open to me; that’s not the case now. I’m not sixteen looking for a way to avoid entering the foster system. I have a foundation now. I’m steady on my feet.

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