The Big Apple
Lilah
The moment the taxi lurched into Manhattan, I pressed my forehead to the cool window and forgot how to breathe. New York City slammed into me like a living beast—loud, chaotic, and merciless. Skyscrapers clawed at the sky, yellow cabs swarmed like angry hornets, and the sidewalks pulsed with people who moved like they owned the world.
When my parents found out Bridgette’s wedding was in New York, they nearly lost their minds. They’d forbidden me from coming. Back home, that kind of threat usually worked.
But I was nineteen now. Technically an adult. And Bridgette—my best friend who’d escaped the compound two years ago without being shunned—had bought my plane ticket. There was no way I was missing her wedding. I hadn’t even met the man she was marrying, the one she swore she was head-over-heels for.
My eyes traced the towering buildings as the city slowly gave way to something quieter. More exclusive.
“How long until we get there?” I asked the driver.
“Fifteen minutes. But cabs aren’t allowed on the property. You’ll have to walk up to the security gate yourself.”
I frowned. Cabs aren’t allowed on the property? What kind of place was this?
The driver pulled over onto the shoulder of a long, tree-lined private road. “House is about ten miles up. Security checkpoint’s at five. Mr. Volkov usually sends drivers for his… guests.” He gave me a once-over. “Whatever the fuck you are.”
I swallowed hard. If I had a cell phone, I could’ve just called Bridgette. But phones weren’t allowed back home. I still felt like I was drowning in open air.
“I’m sure I can walk it,” I said, handing over my last fifty-dollar bill with a sigh. “Is Mr. Volkov the man Bridgette’s marrying?”
The driver pressed his lips into a thin line and took the money without answering.
He hauled my worn duffle bag from the trunk. When he lingered, I realized he wanted a tip. I reluctantly fished out my emergency twenty and muttered a thank you.
Then I started walking.
I’d only made it about a mile when I heard the low, throaty rumble of an engine behind me. A sleek black car—expensive, polished, and intimidating—slowed to a stop beside me. Tinted windows. Zero visibility inside. My heart slammed against my ribs.
The back door opened.
Out stepped a man who made the air feel thinner.
He was huge—tall, broad-shouldered, with powerful legs and massive hands that looked like they could crush bone without effort. Late twenties, maybe thirty. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and eyes the color of winter pine—cold, assessing, and far too knowing.
“You must be Lilah,” he said, his voice deep and smooth, edged with something dangerous.
I stood frozen.
He exhaled slowly, almost amused. “Cat got your tongue, sweetheart? Or are you always this skittish?”
“I… who are you?”
“Nico Moretti.” He stepped closer, towering over me, and casually took the duffle bag from my limp fingers. “Bridgette said you were different. She understated it.” His winter-green eyes dragged slowly down my body, taking in the modest floor-length dress. “You look like you wandered off the pages of a history book… or a convent.” A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. “Get in the car before I decide walking the rest of the way might be good for you.”
I took a shaky breath and slid into the passenger seat. It wasn’t like I could tell him no.
The leather was butter-soft beneath my palms. I smoothed my hands nervously over the fabric of my dress—the same modest style I’d worn every day of my life. Tears stung the backs of my eyes. Anyone could see how out of place I was here. The women in this city didn’t dress like me. My entire duffle was full of long sleeves, high necklines, and skirts that brushed the ground.
I turned my face toward the tinted window so he wouldn’t see me cry. This man terrified me… and something about that fear only made the tears press harder against my lashes.
It took barely three minutes before we passed through a heavy security gate. Nico drove fast, like he couldn’t wait to be rid of me.
“Holy cow,” I whispered as a massive mansion came into view.
The estate was breathtaking—stone and glass and lights that glowed even in daylight, sprawling across acres of perfectly manicured land.
“Holy cow?” Nico repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief.
“It’s… it’s a mansion,” I murmured, cheeks burning.
The car rolled to a stop in front of the grand entrance. The front doors swung open, and there she was.
Bridgette looked nothing like the girl I’d grown up with. Her little purple dress barely reached mid-thigh, and the heels made her legs look impossibly long. She’d swept her hair over one shoulder, but it did little to hide the generous cleavage on display. She moved with a confidence I’d never seen on her before. She looked free.
“Lilah!” she cried, rushing down the wide stone steps. “Fuck, I’m so glad you came!”
She barreled into me, wrapping her arms around my neck and squeezing tight. The moment I felt her tears against my skin, the dam inside me broke too. A year without my best friend had felt like missing a limb. I hugged her back just as fiercely, both of us shaking.
“I don’t have anything normal to wear,” I hiccupped against her shoulder. “Even he said so.”
“You’re not a freakshow.” Bridgette pulled back, gripping my shoulders so I had to look at her. She shot a sharp glare toward Nico before her red-rimmed eyes returned to mine. “I already got your measurements for the bridesmaid dress, and I picked up a few things for you. Your parents… they let you come?”
I shook my head.
“Pretty sure I won’t be allowed back home now,” I whispered with a small shrug. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll call Mom later… see what she says.”
Bridgette studied me for a long moment but didn’t push. Not yet. She’d left the compound at twenty, right before she was supposed to be married off—a fate we’d both feared more than anything.
“Nico,” she called over her shoulder, “can you take Lilah’s stuff to the guest room? She needs to change. Alexander is waiting for you in the study. He wanted to go over security, but that’s kind of shot in the foot now. Thanks for that.”
Bridgette sent him another glare. Nico only rolled his eyes, looking thoroughly bored with both of us.
“I don’t do favors,” he said flatly. “I do business deals.”
Bridgette rolled her eyes right back and tugged on my arm. “Come on.”
As she pulled me toward the mansion, I glanced over my shoulder one last time. Nico stood there holding my ratty blue duffle bag like it might be carrying something contagious. His green eyes flicked up and locked onto mine for a brief, unnerving second before he turned and disappeared inside with my things.
