There is some laughter, and I use the distraction to walk away, quickly dodging other guests as they head over to get their chance to kiss the ring of the head of the Collective.
“Wait,” I hear my mother say from behind me. “Is that Jamie?”
Although I have small pang in my heart at the sound of her voice, I don’t turn around. I don’t hear what my father tells her in return. Whether she’s just curious or concerned, I don’t know. I’m no longer living to impress my parents. If anything, I’m about to blow up their world. I can’t say they don’t deserve it.
Once free of the dance floor, I look toward the terrace again. I have a flash of worry when I find that Noa is no longer there with Matteo. I spin around and scan the room, afraid that I’ve missed my signal. Then suddenly, I feel a hand slide over my forearm. I look down and see Noa next to me. She smiles.
“Want to dance?” she asks.
I’m rolled from a tidal wave of affection, a warm splash throughout my chest as she stands with me. Now that I’m not pretending anymore, I’m all in. I’m so fucking in.
I pull her into the hall, outside the ballroom and away from the prying eyes of the Collective. We can hear the piano, but we’re fine right here. I slide my hand along her waist to pull her in closer.
“Do we have time for this?” I ask her, although I can’t help my smile.
“We have five minutes,” she says, looking up at me. “Matteo told me to stay busy, and then meet him upstairs on the eighth floor. “So…” She tilts her head. “I decided we should steal a dance.” She pulls back to look over my suit. “I’m loving this, by the way,” she tells me.
“Yeah?” I ask. “Thank you. You are, as always, the prettiest girl in the room.”
Noa smiles, and leans to rest her head on my chest. If anyone saw us together, this could technically be construed as embarrassing Jordan. But it would also fuel the reputation of me being irredeemable, which she thought was a plus. Either way, I’m not moving.
Noa and I dance for a few minutes longer until the song stops and another begins. She slowly draws back from me, holding on to my hand.
“It’s time,” she says. “You have the USB?”
I tap my jacket pocket, ready to steal some evidence. “Mancini’s inside,” I tell her, pointing to the ballroom. “Let’s hope he stays here.”
Noa holds on to the crook of my arm as we walk casually toward the hallway leading to the elevators and the rooms. I have the sudden fear that I’ll run into my father again, and my anxiety is working overtime to convince me that he’ll somehow be behind the elevator doors when they open. As if he already knew our entire plan.
When the doors do finally slide open, the elevator is empty. Noa and I climb inside and she uses a staff card to select the eighth floor. As we start to ascend, I turn to look at her. When she gazes up at me, I lean down and kiss her.
She returns it, looping her arm around the back of my neck, her body pressing against mine. We fall into the mirror on the side of the elevator. She slides her palm under the shoulder of my jacket as if she’s about to strip it off me when the elevator dings, alerting us to our floor. She laughs out loud and points to me.
“I swear, it’s the suit,” she murmurs, and reaches to wipe her lipstick off my mouth. “Good enough.”
Just then the doors open, and Noa smoothes down her dress and walks out ahead of me. I hang back a second, checking myself over before chasing after her.
As we round the corner of the hallway, I hear, “What took you so long?”
I reach Noa, and in front of her is Matteo, annoyingly handsome in his expensive suit.
“Oh, that’s right,” he says, motioning to me. “I forgot you were bringing this asshole.”
“I have no idea why we’re always fighting,” I tell him, my voice controlled anger. “You’re so charming.”
“Save the macho bullshit for the next time you beat the shit out of each other,” Noa tells us. “For now, stay focused.”
“Damn,” Matteo mutters, turning back around and leading us to the suite at the end of the hall. “I’ve already cut the feed for the floor,” he says, pointing to a camera in the ceiling. “It’ll take about fifteen minutes for anyone to notice, at least that’s what my friend in security told me.”
Matteo takes out a key card and opens the office door. Noa pauses a moment to look around while I head straight to the desk.
“This is his office?” Noa asks. “It’s huge.”
She’s not wrong, but it’s also standard for someone like Alessandro Mancini. The entire outer wall is glass, overlooking Paradise Beach and the ocean. From here, you can see just about everything.
I pull out the chair and sit down in front the monitor. I click on the tower and wait as the computer boots up.
“Don’t you need his passwords?” Matteo asks me.
