"Thank God, Tiffany, you're finally here! George and I were so worried."
Tiffany rolled her eyes at her assistant, Elizabeth, as she opened the door. She hated Elizabeth's high-pitched tone and the hideous, colorful outfits she always wore. But the woman claimed her fashion sense gave her an identity, that it was her own way of setting herself apart from the kind of life they led. She gave her no choice but to let her be.
"I can take care of myself, Elizabeth," she muttered with disinterest.
Elizabeth Enriga—known as Engineer Rivera around here—gave her a quick hug. She did not like her hugs either. But she could not get rid of her easily. Ever since her mom died, Elizabeth had been with her, like she was her own shadow. She'd been her mom's best friend, after all, and Tiffany could feel Elizabeth's affection almost motherly. But she didn't let herself get too comfortable with it. Especially since, right after her mom passed, her dad had suspiciously hired Elizabeth to keep an eye on her.
Suspiciously—that's Tiffany's word for it. She remembered how cheerful her dad seemed when Elizabeth moved in with them.
Sure, Elizabeth was supposed to be her assistant, but Tiffany had once caught her and her father looking a little too cozy. She couldn't shake the feeling their thing started long before her mom passed. It didn't exactly shock her, though; the Don was never a faithful man.
Still, Tiffany had kept quiet and kept Elizabeth around. She was useful anyway. She was more of a maid than an assistant, and Tiffany enjoyed putting her in her place.
"Where's George?"
"Your father called. There's an important job at the casino. He'll be gone for a couple of days."
Perfect. With George out, Tiffany would have control of the car—a thought that always thrilled her.
"Did you go out to take care of the target?" Elizabeth asked.
"No… I went to a bar," she replied, walking past her and tossing her small bag onto the nearby couch. She'd let Elizabeth pick it up later.
"What?" Elizabeth gasped, horrified. "You should have told me. I can't be responsible for your recklessness, Tiffany! What if someone had recognized you? George and I wouldn't be able to protect you!"
Tiffany's irritation simmered. "And yet, I'm still here—alive and kicking."
"Tiffany, I…" Elizabeth sighed. "I just don't want you getting into trouble. Back in the city, whenever you went out, you'd come home with a bruise or two. This place is dangerous, Tiffany. I don't even know who you were with tonight."
"What are you—my mother?" Tiffany snapped.
"I… I just want you to be careful… that's all."
Remorse crept in as Tiffany heard the pained tone in Elizabeth's voice. But she wasn't about to soften. After all, this woman was probably one of the reasons her mom had been hurt when she was still alive.
"Look, Tiffany… I know I didn't bring you into this world, but I still care about you, darling. Besides, it's my job to keep tabs on you. Your dad would kill me if anything happened to you."
"I doubt that," Tiffany replied with a mocking laugh. Elizabeth's face darkened.
"W-what do you mean by that?"
"Nothing, Elizabeth."
"No, tell me, darling," she pressed. "What do you mean by that?"
"It's midnight, Elizabeth. Let's just go to bed."
An awkward silence hung between them.
"Do you want me to bring you a glass of milk?" Elizabeth asked, breaking the tension.
Tiffany shook her head a she ascended the stairs. "I've had enough whiskey tonight, but thanks."
She shut her bedroom door and sighed, lying down and breathing in the scent of freshly washed sheets. She'd hated Elizabeth for a long time, but getting rid of her wasn't that easy—especially that Elizabeth had been part of her life since her mom died. And though she respected Elizabeth even less than she did George, Tiffany still cared for her, even just a little.
Pushing the thought aside, Tiffany let herself focus on other things—like how her "date" with the teacher had turned out.
She chuckled to herself, thinking about the craziness of the night. "Stupid guy," she muttered, drifting off while wondering how Teacher Greg had managed to survive the night.
***
Greg muttered a curse, realizing Steffy had completely tricked him tonight.
"I should have known," he grumbled, realizing she was long gone from the powder room.
She'd ditched him at the bar. And it didn't help that he'd stumbled upon two drunk couples making out in one of the cubicles. He scoffed at them before slamming the door.
The infuriated man walked out of the bar and headed toward his motorcycle. Hazy, dark memories that had shaped him started to stir memories of his time in the streets. And Steffy had triggered that by playing a scheme he wasn't expecting.
He hated being played, and Steffy's little stunt tonight? Not sitting well with him.
"I'll let it slide this once, Steffy Rivera," he muttered. "But just this once."
He got on his motorcycle and let it roar to life.