Page 112 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

I’m not sure how I feel about spending Phoenix’s money. I have no claim to it. And it feels wrong to pretend like I do.

But maybe, for once in my life, I’ve actually gotten lucky. I ought to try to enjoy it.

Once we’re in the car again, Charity picks a bistro from the approved list of restaurants on our list. We’re whisked away, and what feels like moments later, we’re being seated at the best table and served endless dishes. One of everything—stuffed croissants, towering stacks of French toast dripping with syrup and dusted with white sugar, benedicts, quiches, and a frittata the size of Theo. I eat until I feel like a beached whale.

After that, it’s a blur of department stores and stylists and more clothes than I’ve ever seen in my life. The guards accompanying us stagger out of each boutique and load dozens of bags into the trunk of the car.

Hours later, I’m both exhausted and missing my son. But Charity’s in no hurry to go back.

She’s got twice as many bags as I have, and I only have that many because she basically threatened me until I’d made some purchases.

“I don’t know where I’d wear some of these things,” I had argued.

“Not the point. Just buy them.”

So I did. Because I’m a pushover, I guess. And apparently, shopping takes the fight right out of me.

At six-thirty, Charity finally turns to me and nods. “I think we should call it a day.”

“Thank God,” I breathe.

We head back towards our ride, only to find another identical black jeep parked right behind it.

“What’s going on?” I ask, looking at our driver. “Why are there two cars now?”

“We’ve been sent instructions to take Miss Charity back to the mansion,” he replies. “And you, Miss Elyssa, are to be driven to a restaurant downtown.”

Charity and I exchange a glance. “By whose orders?” she asks.

But I already know.

“The boss,” the driver answers curtly. “Let’s go.”

“Wow,” Charity remarks. “Looks like you’re getting the deluxe princess treatment.”

I turn to the guards, who are waiting anxiously for us to get into the jeeps. “I’m not interested in going anywhere else today.”

Charity grabs my arm. “Elyssa, don’t be silly. You should go.”

“But…”

“No buts. Just do it. I’ll go back and take care of Theo.”

Sighing, I glance back at the driver. He looks right back at me as if to say,You don’t have much of a choice in this anyway.But then, I knew that already.

Sighing, I give Charity a hug and climb into the second jeep.

* * *

It’s a lonely drive to the restaurant. But when the vehicle comes to a stop, I gasp in shock.

The name above the marquee is written in a flowing gold script. The place is elegance personified. Gold and velvet everywhere, plate-glass windows polished to within an inch of their life. It screams class.

And when I catch sight of my reflection, I realize I’m screaming “tired and poor.”

Gulping, I look down at my jeans and t-shirt combo, feeling intensely out of place as I walk forward uncertainly. I should’ve changed into one of my new outfits. Too late for that now.

At the guard’s gesture, I enter the restaurant. Apart from the maître d’ and the waitresses—all of whom are dressed in fancy black coats—I’m the only other customer in there.

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