Page 16 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

She too is decked out in an all-beige ensemble, but she’s not the woman who greeted us when we entered. At least, I don’t think she is. Everyone who works here looks the same, though, so I can’t say for sure.

“May I help you?” she asks politely.

“Sorry, we got a little turned around,” Tamara says, flashing a smile. “We’ll head back into the spa now.”

Tamara grabs my hand and pulls me towards another door off to the side.

“Um, ma’am, that door will take you back into the hotel,” the therapist says in confusion.

“Same difference!” Tamara chirps. She pulls me through the door before the woman can say anything.

The moment we step out of the blinding whiteness of the spa and into the color of the hotel, we both start running. We probably don’t even need to, but it feels good.

We rush through the massive lobby to the grand golden doors of the hotel. Then we burst outside into the perfect L.A. sunshine.

As Tamara hails a cab, a laugh bursts from my lips. She looks at me for a moment, a smile settling over her face, but she doesn’t say anything.

The cab drops us off outside of Tam’s building, a huge, pink building with a lattice of roses up the front. We race upstairs, still cackling like maniacs, and into her chic two-bedroom apartment.

The moment Tamara closes the door behind us, I breathe a sigh of relief and throw my bag down on the glass coffee table.

“I can’t believe it,” I laugh. “We did it!”

“Well, I did it,” Tamara reminds me with a friendly nudge in the ribs. “You just tagged along.”

“Fair enough,” I smile. “You can have all the credit.”

She grins. “Aren’t you glad you decided to listen to me?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Don’t get a big head about it.”

But we both know I’m lying. I would’ve never done something this reckless on my own. And truth be told, I’m not stupid enough to think I’ve gotten away with anything just yet.

No doubt there’ll be hell to pay if my father finds out.

But that’s a problem for future Esme. If there are any consequences, I’ll deal with them later.

My life is closing in on me even faster than I’ve always feared. I want to live a little—while I still can.

“Come on. Let me doll you up. You can borrow something from my wardrobe for tonight,” Tamara says, leading me into her bedroom.

I raise my eyebrows as I walk in. Tamara’s room is complete and utter chaos. Clothes piled everywhere, makeup littering the top of her vanity, half-eaten snacks lying on the bedside table.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. The maid’s coming tomorrow,” she sasses as she flings open her wardrobe and starts riffling through it.

I stand in the doorway, scared to go any further for fear of triggering a hidden landmine or something, as she throws clothing items over her shoulder without looking.

“Ah ha!” She re-emerges, holding something up triumphantly. “Here. This little number will suit you perfectly.”

I stare in disbelief at the dress she’s picked out for me. “You cannot possibly be serious.”

Tamara frowns. “What? Too much?”

I laugh. The dress is made of what looks like sheer chainmail. The neckline seems explicitly designed to reveal my boobs to the world and a thigh slit that rises up to show everything else.

“It would have to be invisible to be any more revealing,” I drawl.

Tamara laughs. “Don’t be a drama queen.”

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