The Con Artist

Sara's POV

Sean's text buzzed on my phone, shattering my focus. Our evening plans were now in ruins.

I stared at the screen, reading his message.

Sean had outdone himself, booking a private lounge at the Milton.

Milton!

That was a five-star hotel, where champagne flowed like water and bills for a night could buy a house. My stomach twisted. I had nothing but a few crumpled bills in my purse.

His call came through before I could think about the mess we were in.

"The manager's here at the door, demanding payment," Sean said, his voice tight.

I bit my lip, hard. "Then leave, Sean. The deal fell apart."

"What do you mean?" Urgency spiked his tone. "I've been here for hours. I've already ordered food and drinks."

Sean was going to be my downfall.

"Couldn't you wait for me?" I snapped. "Do you have any money?"

"A hundred bucks."

That couldn't even pay for a night in a lounge at Milton.

"Hold on," I said. "Tell the manager I'm on my way and you're just my PA."

I ended the call, slipping back into Evelyn Rodriguez.

At the hotel, I strode through the marble lobby, exuding confidence that turned heads. Designer sunglasses perched on my nose, my lips curled in a disdain of a rich, spoilt heiress.

I stopped at the reception desk. "I need the manager," I said, my voice crisp and commanding.

The receptionist nodded, flustered. "Right away, ma'am."

I tapped my manicured nails on the polished wood, the rhythm steady, practiced.

This always worked.

The manager appeared minutes later, apologies escaping from his mouth as he saw my fur coat and haughty air. I didn't remove my sunglasses or acknowledge his apologies.

"Why was my PA harassed this afternoon?" I asked, my voice icy. "This hotel came highly recommended. I'm disappointed, to say the least."

The manager spun to the receptionist, demanding answers.

"The lounge hasn't been paid for, nor the services," she stammered.

He faced me, practically bowing. "My deepest apologies, ma'am."

"Evelyn Rodriguez," I said, letting the name carry weight. "I flew in from Mexico this morning, and my day's been dreadful. Have someone bring the bill tomorrow when I've exchanged my currencies." I pressed a hand to my forehead, feigning a wince. "I have a headache and won't like to be disturbed."

"Of course," he said, nodding vigorously. "My apologies."

I gave a curt nod and strutted toward the elevator, stifling a smirk. That was the Evelyn Rodriguez magic, never failing.

In the lounge, I locked the door, tore off my blonde wig, and let out an exasperated sigh. The room was stunning with crystal chandeliers, velvet couches, and a view of the city's glittering skyline from the window.

But we couldn't afford a single hour here.

Sean lounged on a sofa, emptying a bottle of champagne. He grinned, stood arms outstretched as I entered.

I pushed him back. "You're useless, Sean." I gestured to the food cart, laden with half-eaten dishes fit for a banquet. "What were you thinking? Who eats like a pig when we're broke?"

His grin faded. "Don't take it out on me, Sara." He softened, opening his arms. "C'mon, don't I get a hug?"

I sank into his embrace, the fight draining out of me.

"What happened with the necklace?" he asked, voice low.

I kicked off my six-inch heels and pulled out of my gown, Sean's eyes tracing my form as I crossed the room to a bottle of merlot. I poured, the wine's sharp tang soothing my parched throat, and slumped into a chair.

"You won't believe who I met," I said, setting the bottle down. "And what he offered."

"Spill."

I took more. "Thomas Grey."

Sean choked on his champagne. "The Thomas Grey? Did he recognize you?"

I shook my head. "No way. He was too drunk that night, and the room was dark."

Three years ago, I'd spotted Grey in a bar, drowning his sorrows, his Rolex my reason for approaching him. A billionaire in a place like that? Something had broken him. I'd offered a night to forget his pains, my eyes on the watch.

The night was good but the money from the Rolex was better.

"Will you tell him about-"

"No." I stood, cutting him off. Sean knew not to touch that topic. Whatever happened with Grey stayed buried right there in the past.

I fished the ID card from my purse and tossed it onto the bed. "He offered me a job."

Sean's eyes flicked to the card. "Irene Peters?"

"That's not the amusing part." I sat, restless, the encounter with Grey still buzzing under my skin. "He wants me to spy on Carlos Alvarez."

Sean's face mirrored the dread I'd felt when Grey dropped that name. "Did you agree?"

"I had no choice."

"Fuck, Sara!" He shot up, pacing. "You'll get yourself killed. Alvarez is a monster. You can't do this."

"For two million dollars, I can." I moved to him, cupping his face, my lips brushing his. "We need this, Sean. A break. A vacation far from this chaos, with Sophie and Sam."

He nodded, reluctant, worry written all over his face. "What does Grey want?"

I pulled away, grabbing the merlot and draining the bottle. "To sabotage Alvarez's business launch. I've got six months." I pointed to the card. "That's my ticket in. I apply as his PA under that name."

Sean took my hand, his grip tight. "You sure about this?"

"Think of the money. I've conned politicians, Sean. I can handle Alvarez."

"A ruthless mafia boss?"

I flashed a grin. "Maybe he's never met a desperate con artist."

I crossed to the mirror, adjusting my wig and reapplying lipstick. Blood-red and bold. "First, we need cash to cover this lounge and have the night we deserve. Ben's charity dinner is tonight."

"You're not tired?"

I slipped into the emerald gown I'd bought en route, its silk hugging my curves. "Will resting pay the bill? We can make enough tonight to stay here three days before crawling back to your dump." I laughed, bitter. "Maybe if I land this PA gig, I'll move in with Alvarez."

"That's not funny."

"My life's a joke lately."

I studied my reflection, Evelyn Rodriguez reborn. Ready to charm, con, and survive another night.