Accidentally Yours Chapter 88

**Lola**

The alarm dragged her out of sleep at 5:30 a.m. She groaned, shoved her glasses onto her face, tugged on joggers and a cropped hoodie, then bent over the bed. A kiss to Enzo’s jaw, then his lips.

“I’ve gotta go,” she whispered. “I’ll see you when we get back.” Another kiss, softer. “I love you.”

His hand found her hip, squeezing even half-asleep. “Be safe.”

One more kiss, and she slipped out before his worry could take root.

The salon buzzed faintly with blow dryers, early chatter, and the sharp-clean smell of product. Babbs was already waiting, perched on her stool with an iced coffee in hand.

“Lo, it’s barely sunrise,” Babbs said, giving her a once-over as she dropped into the chair. “And you’re already wearing the exhaustion chic look. Glasses and all.”

“New trend,” Lola muttered, tugging her hood back. “Limited edition.”

Babbs clipped her cape around her shoulders, comb already moving. “So—are we finally doing it?”

“Yep. Red’s out.” Lola tipped her head back, glasses catching the light. “Silver-white. Layers. Choppy curtain bang. The whole deal.”

Babbs let out a low whistle. “Like Storm from X-Men? Bold. You’ll stop traffic.”

“That’s the idea,” Lola said with a sly smirk.

As Babbs worked, she asked, “Need me to line up any makeup slots while you’re gone?”

“Yeah. Schedule a few for when I’m back.” Lola adjusted in the chair, then added casually, “And order more wigs. All kinds. I want options.”

Babbs arched a brow in the mirror. “Didn’t peg you as a wig collector.”

“Let’s just say I like variety.” Lola’s smile was sharp, unreadable.

Babbs didn’t push, just nodded. “Fine. I’ll pull some good ones. On the tab?”

“Always.”

Two hours later, the woman in the mirror was a stranger. Silver-white hair spilled down Lola’s shoulders in sharp layers, catching the light like silk. Wispy bangs softened her face, and Babbs had blown it smooth before mussing it just enough to look effortless. Paired with her glasses, it was sharp and soft at once.

“Damn,” Lola said, fingers brushing the strands. “You nailed it.”

“Of course I did,” Babbs replied smugly, snapping a picture for her files. “Red was fire, but this? This is dangerous.”

Lola grabbed her tote, already running late. “Book me those slots. And pick out something fun with the wigs.”

“You got it,” Babbs said, sipping her iced coffee as Lola bolted.

The SUV idled at the curb, Dom slouched in the passenger seat, Nico leaning against the open door scrolling his phone.

“Sorry, sorry!” Lola called, jogging up the steps.

Both men looked up—then froze.

Dom’s brows slammed together. Nico’s phone nearly slipped out of his hand.

“Who the fuck—” Dom started.

“Lo?” Nico cut in, staring like she’d just shape shifted.

She grinned, sliding into the seat, silver hair swinging, glasses perched low. “What, you don’t recognize me?”

Dom twisted all the way around in his seat. “Recognize you? You look like a whole different person. What the hell happened to the red?”

Lola flipped her new hair over one shoulder. “Upgrade. You like?”

Nico dragged a hand down his face, still staring. “Like? Jesus, Lo—you look like an assassin disguised as a model.”

Dom shook his head, scandalized. “You can’t just do that without warning people. I almost reached for my gun.”

Lola smirked, tugging the seatbelt into place. “Good. Means it worked.”

The SUV pulled away, Dom still glancing back at her every few seconds, Nico muttering under his breath.

“Enzo’s gonna lose his mind when he sees this,” Dom said.

The SUV ride from the strip to McCarran blurred by in a haze of chatter. Lola had claimed her corner of the backseat, silver-white hair falling over oversized glasses. She woke up from a short nap pretending not to notice Dom sneaking glances every time the sun caught her new color.

By the time they landed in San Diego and piled into another car, she was wide awake again, legs crossed, phone in hand, directing the chaos like she’d been born for it.

The San Diego hotel lobby gleamed—glass, chrome, and too-bright morning. Lola led the pack to the front desk, Nico and Dom flanking her; six shadows with luggage fanned out behind.

The clerk’s badge read STEPHANIE. Her smile sharpened the second her gaze slid over Dom, then lingered too long on Nico.

“We’ve got the master suite,” Lola said, tapping the counter. “For me and these two. The crew gets the one next door.”

“Of course.” Stephanie’s lashes fluttered at Nico. “If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate. I’d be more than happy to give you a… hand.”

The temperature dropped.

Lola’s smile didn’t. “Eyes up here, Steph.”

“I’m just doing my job,” Stephanie said, fake-sweet.

“From here?” Lola tipped her head. “Looks like you’re trying to clock overtime.”

A beat. Then Stephanie muttered—just loud enough to sting—“He’s wasted on you.”

Lola’s laugh went low, predatory. She leaned in, voice velvet edged with steel. “Oh, sweetie… he breaks me over and over and over again—only to worship me so I can do it all over again. You wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

Stephanie’s smile twitched, brittle. “Sounds exhausting.”

Lola plucked the keycards from the counter with a snap. “And yet here you are—wishing you were me. Interesting.”

Nico groaned, dragging a hand down his face while not-so-subtly adjusting. “Jesus, Lo…”

Dom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ, woman. Why do you have to say it like that?”

“She’s the one that was molesting you with her eyes the moment we stepped in, but I’m the problem?” Lola fired back.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Dom muttered, scandalized.

Nico shot him a sidelong look, mouth tugging despite himself. “Say what you want, Dom—but I like my woman possessive.”

Lola’s smirk sharpened. She flicked a salute with the keycards and turned for the elevators like she owned the building, silver hair flashing under lobby lights.

Stephanie’s smile froze in place. Her fingers drummed once on the counter, then she picked up a pen and flicked it down with a clatter.

“Figures,” she muttered, voice cutting sharp. “The good ones always fall for the trashy whores.”

Lola stopped mid-step.

Dom cursed under his breath. “Lo—don’t.”

Too late.

She spun, eyes blazing, silver hair catching the lights like a warning flare. “Say that again, Steph.”

The clerk leaned on the counter, smug curling her lips. “You heard me.”

Lola vaulted the desk like it was nothing but an inconvenience. Chaos detonated—papers flying, pens scattering, the register slamming as Lola’s body hit hers. Gasps rippled through the lobby, a phone or two snapping up to record before dropping back down.

“Goddammit, Lo!” Dom barked, lunging forward as the two women crashed into the back wall.