Chapter Twenty-Eight
—JAMIE
She’s been under that umbrella with him for a long time. I sip bitterly from my champagne as I watch Noa and Matteo outside in the rain. I mean, couldn’t she have picked somewhere less… romantic?
“What’s wrong?” Jordan asks from next to me. “You look miserable. Knock it off.”
I curl my lip, letting her know that I am, in fact, miserable.
She suddenly tugs my arm. “Heads up,” she says. “Here comes my mother.” She straightens next to me like she’s about to face her drill sergeant.
Cecelia Miles walks toward us in a canary-yellow ball gown, shining brightly in the sea of guests. Despite the normally cheerful hue, Cecelia still looks terrifying, and I straighten my back as I greet her.
“There they are,” she says, coming to kiss both me and Jordan on the cheek.
“James, you look wonderful.” She steps back to examine me.
“Very appropriate,” she adds. She glances at Jordan, scanning her before coming over to actually rub off some of her lipstick with her thumb. “Moderation, dear,” she whispers.
I watch as Jordan does her absolute best to keep her cool. Cecelia turns to me again.
“James,” she inquires. “Has your mother arrived yet?”
“I haven’t seen her, Mrs. Miles,” I reply. “I’m sure she’ll be here shortly.”
Cecelia nods and glances to Jordan again. “Thank you for making such a good show of things,” she tells her daughter. “You both look lovely, even a little dangerous.” She smiles as she motions to my eye. “Now go enjoy yourself.”
It sounds like an order. Jordan tells her mother she will, and then nods as she walks away. Once her mom is gone, she turns to me and laughs.
“See?” she says. “She just wants me to let everyone know I’m the type of girl who likes the company of reckless rich boys. The ultimate status symbol.”
She glances over to where Shawn is standing near the piano. “And now,” she says, turning back to me, “this is where I leave you.” She reaches up to adjust my tie. “Do anything to embarrass me here,” she adds quietly, “and I’ll cut your balls off.” She taps my cheek and smiles. “Ciao!”
I blow out a relieved breath as she leaves and crosses the room toward Shawn. She beams when she sees Jordan approach, and then the two are laughing and chatting. Good for her. Parental expectations be damned.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
My breath catches at the sound of the deep voice. I turn slowly, my heart thumping as I look up at my father. I swallow hard, prepared to answer when he cuts me off.
“You don’t belong here anymore, James,” he says in a low voice, leaning toward me so others won’t overhear. “I thought I made that pretty clear.”
Before I can make an excuse, the crowd in the room splits apart as Alessandro Mancini starts in our direction. The tapping of his shoes on the marble floor is absolutely haunting.
“And this must be the infamous James Matthews,” Mancini calls, walking toward us. He’s smiling, but his gaze is almost hateful. He stops in front of me, uncomfortably close so that I have to take a step backward. An intimidation tactic.
“Mr. Mancini,” I say politely.
His mouth flinches with a sneer before he can adjust it. He glances around the room casually, his gaze lightly touching on my father before steadying on me.
“You seem to have become quite a problem for me, James,” he says, and takes a sip of his champagne. “Are you always such an indignant asshole?”
“My father would probably say yes,” I reply, and feel my father shift next to me.
Although I know that Mancini is… evil, for lack of a better word, I can’t lose sight of our mission.
We need to prove it. So I smile. “But I do apologize, sir,” I add.
“Like I told my father, I never meant to cause any trouble. You have my full discretion. I’m just grateful to be here tonight. ”
Mancini watches me, annoyed but also appeased. His ego is outsized, and for someone like him, a little pandering, a little flattery, goes a long way.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, sir,” I say. “And me and Jordan Miles are grateful that her mother let me attend tonight.”
At this, he stiffens. A little name-dropping also helps.
Mancini drinks from his glass again, and turns fully to my father. “Any blowback is on you,” he tells him. “Next time…” But his voice fades out as a group of women approach them. He greets them warmly. “Ladies,” he calls jovially. “You all look beautiful tonight.”
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.
“Not when I have my father’s VPN passwords,” I tell him. “His access can cut through all your privacy laws, all your personal data and protections. Isn’t that great?” I add sarcastically.
“Great for extortion,” Matteo says, sounding nervous. “No wonder they work together—your dad and mine. He’s the right person to have in your corner if you need to cover up some crimes.”
“Financial and otherwise,” I murmur, just as the computer lock screen comes up. It’s a picture of Florence Marsten. I almost laugh at how demented it is. Alessandro Mancini is an absolute psycho.
I plug in the USB and click run. The computer starts humming as it begins to extract the entire database. The estimated finish time says it’ll take twelve minutes.