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Isadora
Wringing the fabric of my dress, I stand in the elevator, waiting to reach Laura’s room on the second floor. The long maxi certainly wouldn’t have been my first choice, but the oversized, lightweight military jacket that Amy paired with it is perfect for tucking the doll inside. The trembling of my fingers, coupled with the cold, hollow feeling in my chest, is hard to ignore. It’s my body’s way of telling me I’m not the slick and heartless swindler I’ve spent all night convincing myself that I am. The physical manifestations of a girl with a conscience, who isn’t out to hurt anyone. In fact, this whole fiasco is about ensuring that no one gets hurt.
The elevator doors open on the empty sitting room, and from here, I can see the doll beneath the glow of light that shines down on her inside the glass case. I try to imagine her missing. Would anyone even notice, with all the dolls crammed together?
Nell wanders into the room, tipping her head. “You’re early this morning. She’s still under.”
“Think I got too much sleep over the weekend, myself. Feeling kind of antsy.”
“Well, hey, I’m going to grab some coffee from the kitchen. Can you listen for her?”
“Of course.”
It’s almost too easy. Or maybe I’ve just grown accustomed to how predictable and efficient things work in this place. I knew she’d still be asleep. The woman never wakes before her morning alarm that’s set for nine. I knew Nell would run down for her usual cup of coffee before things begin, taking her time, which would leave me completely alone.
The doors to the elevator close, and I glance at my watch. Twenty-to nine. I have just under that to grab the key, snatch the doll, store it away in my room, and return to Laura’s room before Nell gets back. When she does return, I’ll check my texts, where Aunt Midge will already have sent the message we discussed the night before, telling me she’s coming to pick me up.
It’s stupid. Perhaps the most under-thought plan I’ve come up with, and I’m certain there are a number of consequences that I haven’t even begun to explore.
But I don’t have the luxury of time, and even if I did, would it stop me?
Not when Aunt Midge’s life is on the line.
I shuffle across the room, into Laura’s bedroom, where the shades are still drawn. Her snores trail my steps through the dim light, as I tiptoe across the floor toward the tray on her vanity dresser, where she stores all of her jewelry. Halfway there, the floorboard beneath me creaks, and I halt, eyes screwed shut, as she sniffles and shifts in her bed. Daring a peek through the darkness of the room, I find her lying with her head turned away from me, and the sound of snores fills the room again.
The bracelet lies on top of her discarded jewelry, and I carefully lift it from the tray, the jitter in my hands threatening to drop the damn thing.
With the bracelet secured, I hurry out of the room. Seconds later, I’m lifting the doll from its stand, and rearranging the surrounding dolls to fill the gap left there.
Slightly bigger than I originally remember, I tuck it beneath my arm inside the jacket, feeling stiff and awkward as it rests against my ribs.
And just like that, I have officially stolen the most valuable thing I’ll ever touch in my life.
I close and lock up the case, before returning the bracelet to Laura’s jewelry tray, and hustle back out of the room.
Ten-to nine.
The elevator seems to take forever, and when it opens on Rand, the urge to throw up sends bile shooting up my throat.
“Miss Qui
“I’m, um … I forgot to grab a coffee.”
“Ah, excellent. I’m off to grab some breakfast. I’ll accompany you to the kitchen.”
“I … okay.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
The elevator reaches the bottom floor, where a number of people are bustling around. Construction workers, or something, judging by the tool belts strapped at their waists and one of the men carrying a ladder.
“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to distract myself from the guilt.
“Renovations for the atrium. The master is pla
“Masquerade?”
“Yes. Some very important guests will be here.”
We wait for one of the workers to pass, a younger guy, maybe in his twenties, who winks and smiles as he passes.
Gaze trailing after him, Rand frowns. “I trust you’ll keep your distance from these men. I haven’t a clue what their background is.” He leans in, raising the hair on my skin with his proximity. “We’ve installed extra cameras, just in case.”
My blood turns cold. “Cameras?”
I didn’t even think of cameras. Why would I? It’s not like they have security here to monitor them.
“Yes. Master Griffin had them installed quite a few years ago. We’ve expanded the coverage to most of the common rooms.”
Common room? What the hell constitutes common? A sitting room? I swallow hard, my throat suddenly parched, lips dry. “Hey, I, um …. I need to stop at my room. I’m still not feeling the greatest.”
“Ah, yes, of course. Might I suggest some Pepto-Bismol? You’ll find some in the cupboard of your bathroom.”
“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later, Rand.” On the verge of hyperventilating, I race down the hallway, practically sliding to a stop in front of my room.
“Isa?”
At the sound of my name, I jump back, and the doll falls to the floor. On impact, one of the hands cracks off.
Oh, no. Oh, my God.
My gaze snaps to Giulia, who frowns down at it before lifting eyes cold with suspicion back to me. “It’s … it’s not what you think.” Every muscle in my body is in a frenzy as I kneel down and gather up the doll with its broken hand.
“What is this, Isa?”
Glancing around, I open the door and usher her inside.
She shakes her head, shrugging my hand away. “I don’t want any part of this.”
“Please, let me explain.”
With hesitation, she steps inside the room, looking over her shoulder as she comes to a stop a few paces in.
I scan the hallway once more, before clicking the door shut.
“Are you crazy? Stealing one of her dolls?”
“Believe me, Giulia. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t need the money.”
“We all need the money. You don’t see me stealing it! Do you have any idea what they’ll do, if they catch you?”
String me up? Hide my body? I have no idea.
If there’s one person who might have any inkling what I’m going through right now, it’s a woman who lived on the streets. “I went home this weekend. My mom … she’s a junkie. It’s a long story, but she’s seeing some asshole who skipped off with about fifty grand worth of drugs. The drug dealer beat up my mom, and aunt, broke two of her fingers, and threatened to kill them, if we don’t pay him the money.” Tiny fissures in my composure bleed out the urgency ready to burst inside of me. “I’m freaking out here, Giulia.”
Dubious brown eyes stare back at me, the way I often looked at my mom when she told me similar ridiculous stories of desperation.
“I know this sounds nuts. It is nuts. But I can’t let him hurt my aunt. Or my mom.” It’s not my mom that concerns me, but I don’t tell her that.
Sighing, she steps past me, deeper into the room, and I wonder if she’s contemplating ratting me out. Not that she’d have to. I’m sure the camera caught everything. And now, even if I want to return the damn thing, its hand is broken.