Chapter 2

Mila’s POV

It was the third fundraising event I was attending in two days. I stood at one corner and pretended to sip my drink while my eyes stayed glued to the entrance in wait for the General’s arrival.

Ma had faxed over a whole dossier on the man and she had already warned me that the chances of him showing up to these events was less than two percent. I bit back my sound of frustration. Every second I wasted at these events was another second that Helen could be getting hurt.

I had already started putting my plan B into motion because it seemed my plan A was turning out to be a total bust. I headed to the bathroom to reapply my lipstick and touch up on my makeup. Two hours standing around in a crowded ballroom had probably smudged the carefully applied makeup by now.

“The general won’t show up tonight. He wouldn’t be caught dead in these things.” I heard a woman’s voice coming from one of the sitting rooms as I walked down the hall. I immediately changed directions, inching towards the French doors on the other side. 

Close enough that I could hear them and far enough that I could pretend to just be out here to smoke a cigarette in peace.

“Really? How do you know so much anyways?” another woman’s voice asked.

“Because my aunt introduced me to the general and we’re going out tomorrow evening.” Her voice sounded smug.

“I don’t believe you, Sheila.” Yet another woman’s voice scoffed. 

“Everybody knows the general never leaves his estate, not to talk of dating.”

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but there’s a private club, owned by someone named Othello. I don’t know what sort of name that is by the way. But he owns a club. A members-only exclusive club and The general is a member. That’s where we’re meeting tomorrow.” The woman said.

“How exciting.” Someone gushed. I grinned to myself. How exciting indeed. It seemed this event was a dud, I didn’t need to be here any longer. I put out my cigarette and flicked it into one of the potted plants before making my way downstairs and out of the ballroom.

Twenty-five minutes later, I was in the studio apartment I had rented three days ago to fit my persona for this job. If Jonathan Meiland was as much of a paranoid bastard as I assumed he’d be, he’d have me looked into and probably followed home right after our first meeting. A barren four-bedroom apartment would make me look suspicious as fuck.

I grabbed a new burner phone and rang up my mother.

“Any progress yet?” she asked as soon as the call connected.

“Maybe. I need to know everything about someone named Othello who has a super exclusive club in the city. I need to get into the club tomorrow too.”

“I see that you’ve been busy.” I sighed into the phone as I finally kicked off my death trap heels. 

“It may be nothing, but I’m hoping it’s something. I fucking hope that it’s something.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Ma said.

“How soon?”

“Give me an hour.” She hung up. Beatrice and Marc Goldum weren’t my biological parents. Helen wasn’t my biological sister either. I had been seven years old, rolling with a bunch of other homeless, older kids surviving by picking pockets in crowded places and sleeping in whatever space we could find. Ma had saved me from that life, taken me back to her home when she had caught me trying to make away with her purse, and given me a new life. A month later, they brought Helen home. She had been four years younger than me and had cried a lot for her mother at the beginning. Twenty years later I could hardly remember a time that I hadn’t been part of the Goldum family. Ma and Pa weren’t the most affectionate people, but I knew they loved us in their way.

I pulled out the pins from my hair, letting my thick, golden hair come tumbling down in loose waves down my back. My hair was one of my biggest vanities. It was currently at bum length and a huge liability in the sense that it was a very unmistakable feature. Who was going to forget a real-life Rapunzel? Cutting it and dying it a more subtle shade of brown was something I should have done a long time ago but hadn’t. I promised myself that I would, after this last mission.

The dress I had worn pooled down to my feet a moment later. I walked in just my thong to the kitchen where I retrieved a box of cereal and a bowl and climbed up to my loft bed. I was surprised at how quickly I had gotten accustomed to the studio apartment. No matter how many times Helen and I had had to move, It had taken me a while to get used to everywhere we had lived.

Surprisingly though, as soon as I had put my head down my first night here, I fell into a deep sleep.

The burner phone rang while I was pouring milk into my cereal.

I waited for the second ring as I had been taught by Ma.

“Hello.”

“Thessians. That’s the name of the exclusive club that Julian Othello owns. I’ll fax you the location after this call. That’s the easy part, the hard part however is getting you into the building.”

“A lot of security?” I asked.

“The average person wouldn’t even be able to find the place. That’s how secure it is. Fortunately for us, we aren’t average.”

“Can you get me in, then?” I asked impatiently.

“Yes, I can. As the guest of an acquaintance, Peter Orlando. You have one shot at this, Mila. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t,” I swore just before the line went dead. This wasn’t just a regular job for me. Helen’s life was on the line. 

The stakes were too high. I couldn’t afford to fuck this up.