Elena is impossible to miss. She strides in wearing a leather jacket that screamsdon’t mess with me, paired with tight jeans and combat boots. Her dark, curly hair is piled high in a messy bun that somehow looks effortless, and her red lipstick is brightenough to make a statement but dark enough to match her no-nonsense vibe.
Taking a quick sip of my coffee, I force a smile, trying to soften the blow of the bad news I’m about to drop.
She’s the editor of “Love and Lust,” a no-filter sex and relationships column for “Femme Fatale Magazine.”Basically, she spends her days writing about kinks, heartbreaks, and orgasms, all while sipping kale juice and dropping snarky comments in between articles.
Her entire vibe is hot badass with an opinion.
She spots me, and before I can even greet her, she’s already rolling her eyes.
“You’re not fine, Bella. Don’t even try it.”
I raise an eyebrow, absentmindedly running my finger along the edge of my coffee cup.
“I didn’t even say anything yet.”
“No, but I can see it all over your face.” She pulls the chair in front of me and plops down. “Spill it.”
I sigh, trying to come up with the best way to tell her. But before I can even open my mouth, she leans in, narrowing her eyes at me.
“What is it? You got a dildo stuck somewhere? Blink twice if you need help.”
I choke on my coffee, nearly spitting it out as I glare at her. “What the hell, Elena?”
She grins, crossing her arms. “Well, whatever it is, it’s written all over your face.”
I take a deep breath and sit up straighter, trying to maintain my composure. “Okay, so… change of plans for tomorrow.”
Her eyes narrow. “What do you mean ‘change of plans’?”
“I… can’t do The Crimson Room.”
Her jaw drops like I just told her Santa doesn’t exist. “Wait, what?”
“Sandra’s evil plan for my birthday,” I say, taking a sip of my latte, avoiding eye contact. “She’s sending me to Shadow Hill to take photos of that haunted house instead.”
Elena’s red lips part in outrage, and she slams her hand down on the table, nearly causing me to spill mine. “Oh, hell no. I need to slap that woman so hard, she’ll need another round of Botox just to blink.”
I almost spit out the sip of water I just took, my eyes darting around to see if anyone else heard that. I glance over to the cute guy sitting a few tables away—light blue eyes, that soft boyish smile that says “I’m harmless but charming”—but he’s not there anymore. Of course, the universe sends attractive men just to witness my daily chaos.
Elena, however, is too busy fuming. “She canceled your birthday for some dusty-ass house in the middle of nowhere? On Valentine’s Day? Oh, hell no.”
I sigh, fiddling with the sugar packet on the table. “Relax, it’s not the end of the world.”
“No, it’snotokay!” She’s practically vibrating with rage. “We had plans! Leather, cocktails, hot bartenders… remember?”
“I know, I know.” I rub my temples, already feeling the headache coming on. “But it’s just one birthday. There’s always next year.”
Elena leans forward, eyes narrowing like she’s about to pull out a manifesto. “Next year? You’re turning29on Valentine’s Day. We had VIP access to the dungeon of all dungeons. You were going to sip tequila while people got spanked in leather, Bella. Spanked. In leather. And now you’re ditching that for some crusty old mansion?”
I stifle a laugh, shaking my head.
“Look, it’s not like I want to spend my birthday photographing a house that probably has ghosts, but it’s work.”
Elena isn’t having any of it. She stands up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor so loudly a few people glance over. “Hold that thought.”
Before I can protest, she’s out the door, marching toward her car like a woman on a mission. I stare after her, confused and mildly concerned, as I sip the last of my latte.
A few minutes later, she comes storming back in, holding a small black box. It’s not big, but it looks suspiciously like it belongs in a heist movie.
