Chapter 3: The Harpers

Tiffany's POV 

“Alright then, I’m leaving before you suddenly decide I need a fake fiancé too.” 

Mercer snorted quietly, already reaching for another file. “Don’t tempt me.” 

A small laugh escaped me before I turned toward the door. 

“Oh, and Tiffany?” Mercer called before I reached it. 

I glanced back over my shoulder. “Yeah?” 

He slid a silver key across the desk. “I already arranged housing for you. Figured you wouldn’t have time to hunt for an apartment after just getting off a flight from Riverton.” 

I walked back over and picked up the key. “You work weirdly fast, Captain.” 

“Comes with the job,” he said dryly. “It’s a quiet place a few blocks away. Secure too.” 

“Thanks.” 

“I’ll text you the full address,” Mercer added, turning back to the paperwork on his desk. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow the real work starts.” 

[Good luck.] 

The house Mercer gave me was a minimalist place, already furnished with basic essentials. There were some things inside too, like someone had actually been there before, but I was too tired to care or look closely at anything. 

From where I was standing near the front door, I could only see a basic living room, a small kitchen area, and the doors to two rooms, so I just went straight into the first bedroom right by the entrance. 

I tossed my duffel bag onto the floor and collapsed onto the bed just as my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. 

Unknown: Glow Salon. Appointment at 8 AM. Don’t be late, sis. 

“…sis?” I muttered out loud. 

Another message popped up. 

Unknown: And try not to make my life any harder than it already is. I get the feeling you're going to be a problem. 

Of course it was Lucas. 

Me: That's a bold assumption from someone who's known me for exactly one day. 

Unknown: It's been a very long day. 

Me: Maybe you're the problem. 

Unknown: I'm willing to consider that. 

I rolled my eyes and saved his number under 'Barbie Hater' before tossing my phone onto the nightstand and sinking deeper into the mattress. 

My body felt heavy from the flight, the briefing, and everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. But the strange part was the silence. 

Usually, even when I was alone, there was always something. Stray thoughts. Background noise. A voice slipping through when I least expected it. 

But this time, there was nothing. 

And for the first time in months, I fell asleep without a single voice echoing in my head. 

***** 

The alarm went off at seven in the morning. I groaned, rolling over to slap the screen before forcing myself out of bed. I showered quickly, pulled on a plain black tank top, jeans, and my leather jacket, and grabbed my purse. 

I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. 

The door right next to mine clicked and swung open at the exact same second. 

Lucas stood in the doorway. He wore a crisp navy button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and dark jeans. He looked clean, sharp, and completely different from the guy in the Henley yesterday, but his expression was just as miserable. 

He froze the second he saw me. 

Then his brows pulled together like he was trying to process a glitch in reality. “What the hell are you doing?” 

I blinked at him. “Excuse me?” 

He stepped out fully into the hallway, shutting his door behind him. “No, seriously. What are you doing here?” 

I glanced down the hallway like I might be in the wrong place, then back at him. “I’m staying here.” 

Silence. 

His jaw tightened. “No, you don’t.” 

I tilted my head. “Pretty sure I do.” 

He looked past me again, like the answer might be written on the walls. Then back at me. “This is my place.” 

That made me pause. 

“…Your place,” I repeated. 

“Yes,” he said flatly. “My place. I’ve been here two weeks already.” 

I stared at him for a second, then slowly pulled out my phone like I needed evidence for this conversation. “Okay, well Mercer sent me here personally, so unless he forgot you already lived here, we’ve got a problem.” 

His eyes narrowed. “Mercer.” 

I nodded. “Yeah. Mercer.” 

That did it. 

His expression changed instantly, like something in his head snapped into place. 

[You've got to be fucking kidding me. Out of every safehouse in the city, he sticks her with me? Great. Now I get to work with Barbie all day and come home to Barbie at night. Mercer, you manipulative old bastard. I'm going to kill him.] 

"I can hear you, you know," I said, crossing my arms. "And for the record, I have a name." 

Lucas flinched, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare. "Stop doing that shit. Seriously. Knock it off." 

"Then stop projecting your thoughts so loud," I retorted, pulling my door shut. "You are practically shouting at me." 

Lucas stared at me like I’d just insulted his entire bloodline. 

“Yeah, okay,” he said flatly. “Or maybe don’t read my damn thoughts like it’s a group chat.” 

“It’s not a group chat. It’s just your brain screaming at me," I muttered, shoving my phone into my purse. 

Lucas let out a harsh laugh. "My brain is perfectly fine. You're the one invading my privacy." 

I opened my mouth, ready to fire back, because no way was I letting that slide. 

But Lucas suddenly stopped mid-breath. His eyes flicked down to his watch. All the annoyance just drained out of his face like someone flipped a switch. 

“Shit,” he muttered. 

I frowned. “What?” 

He didn’t even look at me at first. Just stared at the watch like it had personally betrayed him. 

Then he looked up. 

“It’s seven forty-five,” he said flatly. 

I blinked. “And?” 

His jaw tightened. “The salon is twenty minutes away. If we miss the appointment, Mercer’s going to know we already screwed this operation up on day one.” 

I stared at him for a second. “Wait, you’re coming with me?” 

“Obviously.” He grabbed his keys off the table like this conversation was already over. “Did you actually think Mercer would let you wander around a new city alone before a major undercover operation?” 

I scoffed. “I can handle myself.” 

Lucas shot me a look. “Yeah, I’m sure you can. Move it, Barbie.” 

I glared at him. “Stop calling me...” 

“Door,” he cut in, already holding it open. 

***** 

The drive was twenty minutes of pure, thick silence. 

Lucas drove fast, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road. The tension in the car was so heavy I could barely breathe. Every time he reached for the gearshift, the rolled sleeves of his navy shirt pulled back just enough to reveal a faded scar along his forearm. 

I wanted to ask about it, but the rigid set of his jaw told me to keep my mouth shut. He wasn't the type to share his past, and honestly, I had enough baggage of my own from Riverton to deal with. 

He pulled up in front of a high-end salon with massive glass windows and valet parking. 

"Act normal," he ordered, cutting the engine. 

“I’m acting normal,” I said, opening my door. 

The inside of the salon smelled like expensive shampoo, lavender, and rich people. A receptionist with a perfectly sleek bun looked up from her tablet, smiling warmly as we walked in. 

“Welcome to Glow Salon,” she said, her eyes moving from Lucas to me, then back again like she was already deciding our story. A knowing smirk tugged at her lips. “Appointment for Sofia and Tyler Harper?” 

Lucas frowned, his brows knitting together. “Actually, it’s just for Sofia. I’m just here for...” 

“Ahhh, yes,” the receptionist cut in brightly, not even acknowledging the second half of his sentence. “The newlywed package.” 

I blinked. “The what?” 

Lucas’s thoughts sharpened instantly. [No. No. No. I am not being dragged into whatever this is.] 

She smiled wider, completely unfazed. “Mercer called ahead. He booked the premium transformation suite for you two. Said you wanted a fresh start for your honeymoon phase.” 

“Honeymoon phase?” I asked, bewildered. 

The receptionist kept going, oblivious. “It’s so sweet. Moving to a new city, starting a new life together. We love couples like you.” 

“We’re not...” I started. 

“She’s not my wife,” Lucas cut in at the same time. [If she says we’re a couple one more time, I’m going to lose my mind.] 

The receptionist tilted her head. “Oh?” [They’re pretending not to be together. Adorable. Wrong, but adorable.] 

I jumped in fast. “We’re not married.” 

A pause. Then she smiled like we were being shy on purpose. “Oh, I get it. Newlyweds can be like that in public.” 

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. [Why is this happening to me?] “We are not newlyweds.” 

“We’re siblings,” I said quickly. 

That made her pause for the first time. 

[Wait. Siblings? That’s worse. Or better. Or illegal? I don’t know anymore.] 

“…Siblings,” she repeated slowly. 

Lucas nodded once. “The Harpers.” 

The receptionist looked between us again. Her smile returned, just a little more confused this time. “Right. Of course. Siblings... sharing a honeymoon suite transformation experience.” 

The awkward silence stretched for a beat. 

I leaned slightly toward Lucas. “Okay, I’m officially joining your ‘kill Mercer’ agenda.” 

[Took you long enough.]