Chapter 39
Lucy
My determination to hunt down Callum right away carries me for the duration of the drive, but as soon as we reach the Gallagher estate, I realize I might be in over my head.
The car pulls through evergreen hedges that must stand twenty feet high.
After cruising down a long, immaculate drive that eventually curves, the hedges part to reveal an enormous three-story mansion, all brick and beautiful stone architecture.
Expansive white-paned windows glare down at me like I’m being inspected by them.
This place is vast. An oasis of private gardens and real estate in the middle of New York City. How many people live here? Why do they need so much space?
Ryan remains granite-faced in the front seat as he banks toward a circular drive that circles around a beautiful stone fountain. I probably resemble a cross-eyed tourist visiting Hollywood for the first time, mouth hanging open while I gape out the window. This place reminds me of a fairy tale.
Except for the whole mafia, murder, and mayhem part.
We pull to a stop in front of a set of grand double doors that open to reveal Veronika.
Nika!
I nearly dive through the car window and sail over wide stairs to throw my arms around her.
“They told me you were coming.” She rubs my back. “How’re you holding up, superstar?”
A warm voice floats through the doorway. “Is that her?”
“The one and only.” Nika draws back to usher me inside this palace. A beautiful blond with stunning clear blue eyes beams at me.
“You’re Lucy?” She sandwiches one of my hands between hers. “I’m Harper.”
Her million-dollar smile throws me off balance. “Hi there.”
“We’ve been watching all the coverage of Runway Revolution, and we’re Team Lucy one-hundred-percent!” Harper’s smile widens even more after that comment.
“Oh.” I’d forgotten all about my little slice of fame and notoriety. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate that.”
“Come on, everyone’s dying to meet you.” Harper guides me inside. Though Nika is right here, the thought of spitting out my reason for coming when Harper is acting like such a sweet host feels weird. I’ll find Callum…soon.
I’m led into a large sitting parlor decorated with cushy leather couches and warm floral wallpaper. Towering bookshelves line the walls. Two women sit on a loveseat, sipping frozen drinks. A pitcher of frothy green liquid—margaritas?—beckons from the table between them.
“Lucy, this is Kiara and my sister, Riley.”
By sister, she means twin. Riley is Harper’s clone.
“This is the famous Lucy Marlow?” Riley’s voice is darker than Harper’s, softer, but just as friendly.
“Isn’t she gorgeous?” Nika’s shoulder bumps mine. “Our beauty queen.”
Kiara, a brown-haired girl with beautiful, sharp cheekbones, takes another swallow from her glass. “Modeling was definitely the right career choice.”
I almost laugh. “I don’t hear that very often.”
“Sit down.” Harper nudges me toward the couches. “I want to hear all about working with Marco Benetti. He’s one of the competition’s producers this year, isn’t he? They just did a spread on him in Vogue, and I’m obsessed.”
Riley stands and grabs the pitcher. “Here, let me pour you one of my famous margaritas.”
Before I can blink, I’m sitting between Kiara and Riley, margarita in hand, listening to the cheerful chatter around me. Their instantaneous acceptance is unexpected and sweet. I only wish I was in the right headspace to enjoy the feeling.
When I’m not memorizing faces and names, I’m staring at the bright yellow umbrella balanced against the rim of my glass, anxiety eating me alive.
Veronika, Kiara, and the twins chat easily, like they’ve been friends since childhood. I’ve never had a big family or even a big friend group, so I feel woefully out of my depth.
I barely sip my margarita, growing restless as the women jump from topic to topic.
Harper’s into fashion herself and can’t stop gushing over the excitement of the competition.
Riley works at a women’s shelter, and I gather Veronika’s shared some of my history with her because she seems really impressed with my accomplishments.
You know, for a penniless orphan and former trafficking victim.
I wince. Riley’s treated me with nothing but kindness and respect, giving me no reason to believe she pities me. The negative voice in my head is my own, courtesy of my insecurities. I need to stop listening. I can’t allow anything to derail my mission.
My focus needs to remain fixed on Callum and the wallet. I have to find a way to talk to him.
As enjoyable as their company is, there’s no time to continue sitting around gossiping and brunching with the girls.
Harper’s gasp pulls my attention back to the conversation. “What do you mean, he disappeared?”
“Who?” Nika twirls her little umbrella between her thumb and pointer finger.
Riley lowers her voice. “Our accountant, Nolan Doyle. As in, the guy who’s overseen the Kings’ operations for the past two decades, at least.”
Even though I don’t grasp the significance of the announcement, this news rattles the room.
Kiara gulps down the last of her drink. “Does Finn know what happened to him?”
Riley shakes her head. “He’s got several of our best operatives investigating, including our cousin Kellin, but so far, the preliminary reports paint the picture that he may’ve been poached. All signs point to the Port Kings as the culprits.”
“The California faction of the Gallaghers?” Harper gives her sister a grave look, which Riley returns.
“That’s what Finn says.” Riley shrugs. “I don’t think Shane’s decided how to approach Declan yet.”
Kiara clears her throat. “Well, we’ll worry about all that later. Right now, all we can do is be here. Together. And enjoy ourselves. So, on a happier note, Rory and I have been talking about getting to work on kid number one.”
She says it so easily, like they’re going shopping for a succulent.
I can’t help but gawk while the rest of the women drop the bad news about the accountant to preen with happiness and congratulations for her.
“Can you imagine?” Harper giggles, tucking her pink margarita umbrella behind her ear. “What if we all got pregnant at the same time?”
“Guess I’d be drinking by myself for nine months.” Nika holds up her glass. “Cheers to that.”
“To good booze and future babies.” Riley knocks her glass against Nika’s.
Everyone toasts except me. They knock back whatever’s left of their margaritas as the depth of my discomfort intensifies.
Kiara, Harper, and Riley all seem friendly and fun to be around. I’m amazed that even Nika—who’s always been as resistant to new people and connections as Maya and me—seems to fit in so well with them.
But my hurt and anxiety spiral with every mention of their men.
All their happy exchanges about their relationships only serve to remind me that for a few splendid hours yesterday, I thought Callum and I shared a similar connection.
Now I’m not sure what to believe, and with each passing second, that uncertainty penetrates deeper. I just need to find him and ask about the crypto wallet.
I turn to Nika, but before I get the words out, Harper smacks my knee.
“Lucy, you don’t have to be shy.” She gives me a wise smile.
“Yes, no shyness allowed.” Kiara grins and wiggles her dark eyebrows. “I’m so curious to know what Callum’s like under that cold exterior.”
Alarm accelerates my pulse. How do they know about Callum and me? The twins look vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place their faces. There should be no way for them to tell that Callum and I…
“I’m not sure what you mean.” My uninviting tone does nothing to lessen their enthusiasm. In fact, Harper digs into her pocket, finds something on her phone, and shows me with an even bigger smile on her face.
“If I were you, I’d get this one framed.”
Paparazzi photos. Callum and me on our “date.”
I grab Harper’s phone, cold tendrils of horror snaking down my spine.
There’s one of us walking through Times Square, another of us eating pizza, a third of us with the waffle cone. They’ve got images of us holding hands, laughing. Everything.
They’re all over Instagram. TikTok. TMZ reported on it. How does TMZ even know who I am?
The paparazzi must’ve been tailing us all day, and neither of us noticed a damn thing. Super odd that Callum didn’t see them, given it’s his job. But I don’t have time to stew on that.
Those photos. They’re everywhere.
Anyone who follows fashion or reality shows will see them. They’ll know Callum and I are…I don’t even know what we are, but it sure looks like we’re something in these pictures.
What if Viktor…
I bury that worry and pass Harper’s phone back in silence. Understanding that I’m not ready to spill the tea about my bodyguard, she flicks to a new reel and starts chatting with Riley.
I hate knowing those photos exist out there in the wild. But in the end, a few pictures of me on a date with a gorgeous man won’t tank my career.
All my concern is reserved for Callum. I doubt Darren will find Callum’s lack of professionalism charming. Maya’s bound to have a few choice words for the pair of us too.
My jitters reach critical mass, pushing me to my feet. “Nika? I need to see Callum.”
Nika stands, her brow wrinkling over my obvious distress. “I’ll take you to him.”
She tosses concerned glances at my profile as we walk. Aside from Maya, Nika’s the only person who understands that behind my tough mask, I’m clinging by a thread.
She weaves us through several hallways, the last one ending in a wall of glass.
As we draw near, the outline of double doors appears.
Beyond them, a spacious outdoor patio materializes.
A massive, ornately carved stone table dominates a spot near the railing, overseeing a set of stairs that leads to some wild and colorful gardens.
Callum and another man sit at the table while a few others stand.
I pause near the doors.
Nika twists around to look at me. “Lucy?”
My heart stutters.
He didn’t steal the wallet. He wouldn’t. Someone else must have. He’s probably just talking about the hotel breach and discussing Viktor’s movements.
My feet feel cemented to the floor, but I can’t stay here forever. I can’t spend the rest of my life wondering.
I need to know if Callum betrayed me.
Even if the truth kills me.