La Sosta Reale
"How did you even get access to this place?" Isadora gasped, raising her head higher as she adjusted her glasses, staring at the magnificent building looming in front of her.
It screamed wealth—every polished marble corner, every golden trim glittering against the night lights.
"We're dressed like waitresses! I also have a friend," LLara replied, her eyes fixed on her phone as her thumbs moved in rapid rhythm. She was clearly in the middle of a heated back-and-forth with someone, not sparing Isadora so much as a glance.
Isadora, meanwhile, kept tugging her short skirt downward, her other hand fumbling to button her shirt all the way up. Every exposed inch of skin made her feel like she was being paraded under a spotlight.
Her heart thundered against her ribs as her gaze darted around. Nothing LLara had explained earlier eased the panic curling through her chest.
How the hell am I supposed to convince a man to…
"Let's go!" LLara snapped, yanking her away from her spiraling thoughts. She shoved her phone into her pocket and grabbed Isadora's hand, ignoring how clammy and trembling it was as she pulled her toward the entrance.
Isadora tried to resist, inching backward, painfully aware of the curious stares they drew. Her fear doubled when, instead of being stopped, they were ushered in instantly through a discreet side entrance to the right.
A man in the same uniform as theirs—white shirt, black pants, the sleek attire of service staff—broke into a wide grin when he saw LLara. His eyes lingered on her a second too long, betraying an interest that made Isadora's skin crawl.
"LLara! I was shocked to get your message!" he exclaimed, already motioning them toward the back. They stepped into the service corridor, the quiet hum of staff and clinking glasses surrounding them, a stark contrast to the roar of the Saturday night crowd outside.
The main hall was overflowing with guests, the kind of crowd that radiated money and power. But the man, Miguel, didn't look the least bit fazed.
"Thanks for doing this, Miguel! I know this is very last minute," LLara said with an apologetic smile.
Miguel simply waved it off. "Don't worry about it."
Before Isadora could exhale, LLara's next words hit her like a slap. "I'll be helping you, but Isadora will be serving drinks in the more VIP section."
Miguel gave a knowing smile, as though he'd already pieced together their little scheme and decided it wasn't his problem. "Sure. You've been here before, so you know the drill. I'm not bartending right now, so I'll just show you what you need to do." He excused himself, striding toward a busty waitress whose neckline plunged scandalously low. Isadora caught the sight of Miguel angrily whispering, gesturing with sharp disapproval.
Miguel angrily pointed it out with whispers of "not classy," even as she angrily nodded at him. The waitress rolled her eyes but adjusted her blouse with a forced nod.
"Pay attention!" LLara snapped, shoving her phone under Isadora's face and snapping her focus back.
"These are all the faces of the people you have to pay attention to," she whispered in a low tone. "…Billionaires… CEOs… and some of them are… Mafia…" She didn't finish the sentence, moving her hands as if the rest didn't matter.
Isadora studied the pictures, shocked that every one of them looked good in their own way.
"…The point is: tonight, the person you need to meet and attract is him!" LLara said, stopping on a blond-haired man with blue eyes that made Isadora's heart stop.
He was the most beautiful man Isadora had ever seen. He was tall, and even on the phone it was obvious he could be a model—especially when LLara tapped Isadora and directed her gaze toward the VIP section, where she saw him in person.
"He… he loo—" Isadora began, stuttering, but LLara didn't let her finish.
"Yes! He looks amazing, but keep in mind the plan is based on luck, so you best pray!" LLara said, closing her phone and shoving it into her pocket. She grabbed the collar of Isadora's shirt and began to undo the buttons to reveal a bit of her bust—something Isadora had ample size of compared to LLara's own but always insisted on hiding.
"We only get one chance at this! If you fail we'll have to find someone else, and that worries me. Lorenzo Rocheto is known to treat his women well and he for sure can go against Don Tiberio, since there are rumors of him having a powerful backer," she whispered with a sigh, facing Isadora—who already had sweat plastered to her forehead and whose hands trembled slightly.
"You can do this!" Ilara assured her, but it was clear Isadora didn't believe her, though she nodded in response to LLara's words.
From there, things moved quickly; soon Isadora found a tray of drinks in her hands.
"Sway your hips a bit! Look relaxed!" LLara coached, giving instructions while she dabbed a little lipstick onto Isadora's lips.
"Smile! That is the most important! Show him intent and willingness from your side!" LLara continued, even though all Isadora could hear was the vigorous thumping of her own heart.
"I would pull your skirt up higher, but knowing you… you'll definitely pull it right down!" LLara mumbled in a lowered tone, and Isadora watched as LLara reached to take off her glasses.
"Wa… wait!" Isadora tried to stop her, but LLara went ahead to Isadora's complete astonishment.
"We both know you don't need it! Take this seriously, Isadora. If not, by tomorrow night you'll be lying in bed with an old mafia lord who could either be selling your organs for fun or pimping you out to other people!"
LLara's words were enough to send a chill through Isadora's very soul.
"Tonight you need to snag a CEO! A powerful one! Just long enough to protect you and your family!" LLara said, even as Isadora nodded, wanting to use her hair to instinctively cover her face—until LLara tucked a strand behind her ear.
"You're ready!" she declared, and Isadora nodded again.
No, I'm not! she thought inwardly, fully aware that the declaration wouldn't change the fact she was being sent into battle.
"Careful in your heels! Go up the stairs. The badge on your uniform will ensure they let you in!" LLara told her. Isadora felt lightheaded but nodded, keeping a firm hold on the drinks—aware that nothing was worse than spilling them.
I can do this! I can do this! she mentally mumbled to herself, even though she didn't feel a shred of the confidence the mantra demanded.