Page 25 of Shield

I sigh. I wasn’t really interested in getting dressed up in fuck-me heels and fending off drunk bros at the bar, but I would really love to punch some men in the face tonight. So. Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. Except….

You’re not asking me to go to the Edge, are you?

Hell no. I have a suite in a building in Tribeca.

She texts me the address as Amelia and Blake step out, shivering, and Amelia locks the door behind her.

“Holy shit, it’s cold! Where to? And can it be close?” Amelia hugs herself, rubbing her palms over her arms.

“Pretty close.” I give them the address and update them on Olivia’s plan.

Blake rolls his eyes as he pulls out his phone. “Girl, I am not walking that far. I’ll order an Uber, but first I have to eat. Vibe?” he asks, referencing the fusion food truck where we get our chicken tender and french fry burritos.

“We do that every day,” Amelia whines. “What about sushi?”

“We’re getting burgers,” I state, splitting a glance between them, playfully daring either to defy me.

Blake sucks his teeth. “Miss Thing is laying down the law,” he says, exchanging a look with Amelia.

“Fuck, yes. Order me to eat a burger, baby! I love it when you talk dirty to me,” she laughs, slipping her arm throughmine.

I lean into her and laugh as we head into the wind. I have plenty of time to lose my shit about this later on, but right now I have just one plan: to rage drink and talk shit until I pass out.

12

Siena

God damn, this girl knows how to drink.

Olivia is plying us with yet another shot of tequila, as we lounge on plush couches in her gigantic luxe apartment.

From the moment I walked in, I’ve been in awe. The place screams wealth—a chef’s kitchen gleaming under soft recessed lighting, oversized sofas draped in designer throws, and views that seem to stretch to the edge of the Earth.

And the building she lives in is even more incredible. It has massive concrete doors, an expansive lobby buzzing with at least 50 employees bustling around rearranging furniture, and ceilings so high they could house a small airplane hangar. At 22, Olivia’s already living in a way I never dreamed of, and I’m ten years older than she is.

Amelia leans back, her arms draped along the back of the couch, sighing dreamily. “How the fuck does a 22-year-old afford a place like this, girl?” she asks, echoing my thoughts.

“It’s payoff for a lifetime of torture and debasement,” she says dryly, sloshing tequila into the glasses and handing oneto Blake.

Blake waves her off dramatically. “No. Mm-mm. No way. Unless you want to see this queen get sloppy before we even hit the club, I cannot—I SHALL not—do another shot.”

He crosses his arms back and forth in front of him in an exaggerated X like he’s warding off spirits. He’s clearly already as buzzed as I am, and I grin, but my amusement is short-lived as his words register.

“Wait, I didn’t agree to a club. What club? Are we going to a club?” I ask, almost panicked.

Amelia snickers as Olivia exchanges a knowing glance with her.

“The pop-up club I told you about earlier,” says Olivia, smirking. “I’ve spent over a week putting it together. And it’s right here in the lobby of this building, so you have no excuse not to go.”

“Oh, wow, you really made that happen? You’re amazing, Olivia. Very impressive.” I say sincerely, smiling when she blushes. She’s texted me a few times about it, but I guess I missed that she was actually doing it and not just talking about it.

“Girl, you need to pay better attention,” Blake says with a raised eyebrow. “And pick you out an outfit.”

“Sure, let me just reach into my imaginary wardrobe,” I snort.

“Oooh, I’ve got you!” Olivia chirps, her voice rising with excitement.

I give her a skeptical once-over, noting her long, willowy frame. “Seriously? You’re six feet of legs with zero curves—no judgment. I’m 5’3” with…” I grab handfuls of my tits through my sweater and raise an eyebrow at her. “There’s no way you have anything that fits these.”

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