“My father runs security for the Augustus Resort,” Jamie points out. “But specifically, he seems to be working closely with Mancini. Or at least, covering for him. I imagine that he’s the client my father was cleaning up after.” He winces, not wanting to downplay Felix’s death.
“We need Ellis,” Shawn calls out. “He’s the one tying it all together.”
“My dad and uncle will find him,” I say, although I wish I felt more confident about that. But there is so much new information swirling around in my head. I’m overwhelmed—at the same time, the picture is starting to make sense. All the pieces of the puzzle are there and just waiting to be clicked together.
I look at Shawn. “Did Nina confirm about tonight?” I ask. When she nods, I blow out a cleansing breath, trying to get focused. “Good,” I say. “You get me onto the terrace and lure Matteo outside so I can talk with him. Jamie”—I turn to him, and he’s already grimacing—“you need to call Cecelia Miles and ask for permission to take her daughter to the gala.”
“Jordan says to be extra charming,” Shawn adds. “Tell her you know you messed up, but that you were jealous of Matteo and Jordan’s friendship, or something equally cringy. She thinks her mom will like that angle.”
“Do I have to?” Jamie asks, looking miserable. “Can’t Jordan just ask her mom herself?”
“No,” Shawn says simply. “Now, go be a man and take my girlfriend to the gala.”
“Fine,” he says, grabbing his phone and wandering away for more privacy. When he’s gone, both Shawn and Tech are watching me.
“I’m so sorry about Ellis,” Shawn says quietly.
It’s a heavy story—knowing that my father kept this all from me, same with my uncle. In a way, they feel responsible for Felix’s death, and I’m sure that is something they will never get over. And I can only imagine what my brother is going through right now. Alone. Scared.
“I just want Ellis to come home,” I murmur, and Tech pulls me into a hug and promises he’ll make it happen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
—JAMIE
The sun beats down onthe sand, the salty air mixing with the sound of the waves crashing in the distance. It’s midmorning, but the weight of the moment hangs heavy around me. My hands are clammy as I look down at my phone. I stand a little apart from the others as they watch, keeping their distance.
I can’t make the call in front of them. Although I’d be embarrassed to admit it, there is a different way to talk to the wealthy. It’s a different tone, a lighter clip. I have to sound like them, and it reminds me that I’ve spent my life as one of the Collective—whether consciously or not. It’s a role I no longer want to play, but desperate times…
I swipe through my phone, stopping on the last message from Jordan, which includes her mother’s phone number and the blunt instruction:You’d better be convincing.I stare at the words for a moment, then mutter under my breath, “I will do my best,” as if repeating it might somehow make me believe it.
The screen lights up as I dial the number, my thumb hovering just above the green button until I click to call. Cecelia Miles picks up on the first ring.
My throat tightens, my heart thumping as it rises into my chest.
“This is Cecelia?” she says, smooth but sharp, clearly not recognizing the number.
“Mrs. Miles,” I say, keeping my voice deep and steady, like I practiced in my head. “This is James Matthews. How are you?”
She is quiet. I wait a beat and then press forward.
“I’m sorry to call you out of the blue,” I continue, straightening up as though she can somehow see me. “But I wanted to personally apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was out of line. Classless. I’m truly sorry if I caused any embarrassment.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and then she responds, her voice frigid.
“You’re certainly the talk of the town right now,” she says. “And frankly, I’m surprised at you, James. I expected more from you.”
“Me too,” I agree, and I almost mean it. “And I think the most regrettable part is that I let Jordan down. I had asked her to be my date to the Augustus Gala, and then… I ruined everything. She’s never going to forgive me. I just… I let my jealousy get the best of me.”
“Jealousy?” she repeats, the hint of curiosity in her voice, as though this isn’t the answer she was expecting.
“Yes,” I say, taking a breath. “Her and Matteo… they’re always together. And I just… I should’ve known better. Jordan is loyal. I shouldn’t have questioned it.”
“Loyal?” she asks, fully invested now. “Have you two gotten that serious?”
“Of course,” I respond without hesitation. “A girl like Jordan? I’m not going to waste her time. Which is why I know how upset she must be. She’ll have to go to the gala alone. And that’s my fault. I take full responsibility.”
There’s a long silence, and then I hear the faint shuffle of the phone as she shifts it to her other ear.
