Page 11

Accountability in this matter. Laia turns the phrase over in her head. Calling it a matter is a pretty good way of disguising what this job actually is: being a babysitter for her niece—who, for the record, is eight years older than her.

"Oh. Good," Laia sighs, and rolls her neck to loosen the tension.

She slept pretty badly last night, though to be fair, she's been sleeping badly since Thursday, when Elvira told her that her niece would be her responsibility. When she told her mom about the job offer, Sonia hugged her and started crying with pride, saying it was about time her boss realized how much she was worth—but when Laia laid out the conditions, her mom pulled back and stared at her, baffled.

"Can she do that?" she asked, brows knitted together. "How are you supposed to control a grown woman? It's ridiculous. If she wants to go out and show up late, she will, and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"The idea is just to try, at least. I only need her to keep it together for six months, and then I'm done with this—done with her. If she wants to keep wasting her life after that, that's her problem. And besides, Elvira will pay me for the extra hours. We could really use the money, Mom."

Her mother clenched her jaw and looked away, because Sonia is ashamed that she let her oldest daughter drop out of school when her husband died—that she had found herself alone with two daughters and a rent she couldn't cover on her own.

For three days now, Laia has barely slept, running through a thousand opening lines she could use to get Claudia to fall in line. Now she can't remember a single one.

She's trying to mentally prepare herself—to figure out what to say when Claudia walks in late—when she hears footsteps outside. Everything around her goes still. Laia freezes beside her boss, pulse spiking, a cold sweat creeping up the back of her neck, because what she hears are the steps of someone in shoes—specifically, in heels. A sharp, precise click that carries right through the glass, and Laia remembers that sound perfectly. She heard it last Wednesday in the parking lot.

Before she has time to brace herself, the door swings open and in walks the woman from the other day. The same long coat, open; dark pants; a cream-colored sweater; and a scarf in the same shade as the pants, knotted loose like a tie. She's wearing her hair the same way as before—a soft updo—and now that she sees her up close, Laia is glad she's leaning against the desk, because her knees have gone weak.

The blood drains from her cheeks and pools somewhere lower, her whole belly running hot, and Laia exhales sharply as she grips the wood behind her.

"Good morning," the woman says, and Laia swallows and thinks this would be a great moment for Elvira's niece to walk in and spare her from standing here, trembling in front of a stranger—but then comes the woman's next sentence, and Laia freezes solid.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Aunt Elvira."

"Oh my God," Laia murmurs before she can stop herself.

"What did you say?" Elvira asks, looking at her.

"Nothing. I didn't know—"

Laia drops her gaze and decides it's better to stop talking. Elvira is too angry at her niece to pay much attention to her strange behavior anyway.

"This is Laia Fabra," her boss says. "Laia—this is my niece, Claudia."

"Nice to meet you," Claudia says, extending her hand.

It takes Laia a few seconds to get the signal to her arm to actually move, and when she finally shakes Claudia's hand, the tingle shoots up her arm and spreads through her entire body, and Laia knows with absolute certainty that she is completely screwed.

"Likewise," she murmurs, unable to look her in the face, silently cursing her rotten luck.

This woman cannot be Elvira's niece. The elegant, magnetic, strikingly beautiful woman standing in front of her cannot be the same person who hasn't held a job for two weeks straight—the spoiled, irresponsible one who never says no to a party and refuses to act like an adult.

"Let's go upstairs," Elvira says curtly.

Her boss starts up the stairs, and when Claudia and Laia reach the first step, Claudia stops and waves her ahead.

"Oh, no—you first, please," Laia says.

"Whatever you'd like."

Claudia starts climbing and Laia follows, eyes fixed on the steps—because if she looks at the body ahead of her she'll end up tumbling back down.

Elvira walks into her office and holds the door until both of them are inside, then closes it and crosses to her desk. Instead of sitting, she stays standing, arms crossed.

"I'm only going to say this once, Claudia," she says, voice tight with anger. "Work starts at eight here—not eight-thirty, not whenever you feel like showing up. You don't get special treatment because you're my niece. Do you understand that?"

"Yes."

Laia looks back and forth between them with a mix of fascination and discomfort.