The Evil Stepsister (Fairytale Killers #2)

E Liber

“The driver can stay?!” Carmela read aloud the message from her mother. “I just told her I threatened him to leave!”

“Is she asking or she telling you?” Caterina laughed. “I think we can convince him to stay,” she sat next to Carmela, mockingly patting her shoulders, then moved to her own confession, “I’m going to Entropy tonight. Jack said he'd be spending the night working.” 

“No no no!” Carmela jumped off the bed. “We're not going there again!”

“You’re not invited,” Caterina shrugged. “I want to know him. Mingle, see how close I can get.”

“Why are you playing with fire?  Why?!” 

“Why not? Let's face it, Franco can't force us. We play along--for the money. Mom hoarded enough, we'll be fine,” Caterina went to the make-up table. “Let's make him regret his investment.”

“Now,” Caterina took a huge hairbrush from a set of all shapes and sizes. “Help me get ready and distract our security. I know you know how.”

Usually, it was money that helped Carmela convince whoever was watching their “protection feed” to let her get out unnoticed. The girls' bedroom had cameras watching the door and windows, a direct feed to the driver's bedroom, on the ground floor. He was responsible to see that the girls were safe, conveniently also monitoring if any of them left their room during the night. 

“I'll message you when you can sneak out,” Carmela said. “Have a taxi ready at the gate.”

Carmela, like all the Walter women except for Catalina, had access codes to every area of the property and house, keys for every room -- courtesy of her mother. Whenever Franco changed something, it would be mere hours until a new set of keys and codes got thrown on Carmela's nightstand.

The personnel of the house lived in small studios annexed to the house,  a room with a bathroom and a kitchenette for each. Six of them, they faced in pairs over an alley that had its own connection to an outside gate.

Driver's room was the last, no light underneath. Carmela opened the door without any noise, years of practice having refined the skill in her. In the corner of the room, a desk with three monitors on it, each set on an interest point. The chair in front of the desk was empty, the driver spread in his bed, seconds away from snoring, on his stomach, asleep with his mouth open.

Carmela rolled her eyes, taking her phone out. “E liber,” she messaged her sister, the coast was clear. On the left side monitor, a sparkly silhouette left the twins’ bedroom. When they wrote to each other, both on the same social media app chat, it looked like the same person was talking to herself. All the messages were on one side of the screen, only the twins knew who said what. And what they meant, as they'd perfected a shortened, obfuscated-with-Romanian language that was unreadable to other people.

It would be her first night alone, usually Carmela was the one to leave the house to find new adventures. She watched her sister cross the front lawn on the middle monitor, disappearing in a taxi. She turned to the bed.

Her silk robe met the floor in one move, the nightgown underneath needing only one more second to join it. Naked, Carmela went under the sheets.

She pushed his big body to the side, helped by him cooperating, starting to wake up. In the darkness, she could still distinguish his features, calm with leftover dreams. He was scared the first, even when he recognized her, his eyes turning into lines. Carmela kissed him before he could talk, his tongue responding to hers. Until it stopped, leaving her hungry.

“You need to leave,” he said, then let his head fall on the pillow.

Carmela stared at him in disbelief.

“I don't wanna lose my job,” he explained.

Shocked that anyone would ever choose being Franco's henchman over sleeping with her, Carmela had no choice but to climb him. He groaned, catching her hands as they tried to find ways to take off his boxers, “Please leave,” he pushed her aside.

He was serious. Carmela stood still under his stare for a few seconds, then had to admit defeat. 

“Fine, I was bored and thought you might want to waste some time together,” she took her clothes off the floor. He didn't answer, but she couldn't go out, the heavily supervised common areas were sure to catch entertaining videos of her getting dressed outside the driver's door. So she had to fumble in front of him, hating every moment. She slammed the door on her way out.