Larissa's POV
Twenty minutes later, I had tamed my hair with the blow dryer, swept on just enough makeup to look alive, and slipped into dark skinny jeans paired with a flowing emerald blouse. The neckline offered a hint of allure without crossing professional boundaries. Not that I needed to impress anyone at O'Malley's, but wearing something other than corporate armor or one of Carson's meticulously chosen outfits felt liberating.
I snatched my purse, verified my keys and wallet were inside, then stepped outside to hail a taxi.
The cab weaved through downtown Los Angeles as the city pulsed with its signature evening rhythm. Glowing signs cast colorful shadows across building facades, restaurant patrons overflowed onto busy sidewalks, and the relentless traffic inched forward despite the hour. I pressed my forehead against the cool window, second-guessing my decision to abandon the safety of my apartment.
