Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Emma nods thoughtfully. “I see.” I can see her processing, her foot tapping absently against the scuffed hardwood floor. This kind of hesitation is rare for her; she's usually the one with quick-fire opinions, the friend who talks me off ledges. My own thoughts swirl, an undercurrent of doubt and temptation coiling in my chest, making my skin prickle.
“Does it feel too good to be true? Too risky?" I venture hesitantly.
“I don’t know.” She frowns. “Are the two of you the same size as well?”
“We’re more or less the same height, but I’m thicker than she is. She’s stick-thin.”
I sigh, glancing down at my generous curves. “So yeah. I'd have to lose about ten pounds. And wear contact lenses—my eyes are a lighter blue than hers."
Emma’s expression is suddenly excited. "Ten pounds? Contacts? Bandages? Jules, I’ve been trying to be mature and sensible, but this is freaking wild. Just think about it—the money, the adventure. What are you leaning toward?"
I don't answer right away. The soft light from the string lights cast a warm glow on us, as my mind spins with possibilities, fears, and the sensual pull of the unknown. I think of Carolyn's touch on my arm earlier—cool, lingering, and promising something I’d never imagined I could ever experience in my lifetime.
Chapter Three
JULIET
“Iknow what I wish, but what if this is some kind of trap?”
The Malbec inside Emma’s glass swirls lazily, a deep ruby. After what feels like an eternity—maybe two minutes heavy with tension—Emma shifts and turns to face me fully, her yoga pants whispering against the couch.
"Trap?" she says slowly, her voice low and measured. "That’s the problem with you. You never trust the Universe. Every time it sends you a gift, you second-guess the damn thing until it gets taken away. Let’s be smart here. What are the upsides to this? Like, beyond the money. Let’s make a pros and cons list. Pen and paper time."
She reaches for a notebook from the side table—a spiral-bound thing cluttered with doodles of hearts and stars. She clicks open her pen with a sharp snap.
"Wait, really? I thought you'd tell me not to take it. That it's sheer madness, too dangerous."
She pauses, pen hovering over the page, her expression contemplative, but something deeper flickers in her eyes. She sets the pen down and reaches out to squeeze my hand. Her touch is warm, her callused fingers feel real, dependable.
“Jules, life is for living. Sometimes things that seem like sheer madness can lead to wonderful things. Besides, you could use the money. Like, really use it. You don't have any family. No safety net. Financial stability is everything. I've seen you stress over rent, over those student loans that just won't lie down and die.”
She pauses. When she speaks again, her voice is laced with that protective edge she gets when she's concerned about me. “I'm always worried that one day you'll need help, real help, and you'll have nowhere to turn. Not even to me, because let's face it, I'm not well off either. Scraping by on tips and that crappy side gig is not a stable way for either of us to live.” She swallows, her throat working, emotion raw in her gaze. "Maybe this is a blessing in disguise. A weird, twisted one, but something to set you up, give you that stability you've never had. We can't just throw out the offer without looking at it properly."
The truth hits me low in the gut, a sadness and vulnerability I almost never indulge in, swamps me for a second. She's right. I am alone, an orphan in a city that chews up the unsecured. No parents, no siblings, just me against the grind. The thought of that money, that cushion, sends a shiver through me, not cold but heated, like possibility igniting under my skin. I nod and lean in. Our knees touch. I smile at her.
"Okay. Pros and cons. Let's do it."
She smiles back, and that determined glint returns. I watch her scribble ‘Pros’ at the top of the page in her loopy handwriting, and underline it with a flourish.
"Alright, start with the obvious—the cash. Two hundred K. But what else did she dangle?"
I exhale, my mind drifting back to Carolyn's polished pitch in the café. Her face haunts my memories like a ghost. "On the upside, I'd also get a whole new designer wardrobe. All mine to keep once the gig's over."
Emma's eyes light up, pen flying. "Designer wardrobe." She taps the page, grinning wickedly. "And you could sell most of it, or return what you can for even more money. Imagine—Chanel, Gucci, whatever she's got. Turn that into cash flow."
I laugh at how quickly her brain works. "Yeah, that’s something to explore. And it's not just clothes. Full access to all her credit cards, store credits, her chauffeur, and membership to her exclusive spa."