Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
Alistair’s check burns in my pocket all the way to the office.
Cable Car Chronicles is already paying me to chase a story that could turn me into somebody, and excuses to cash the extra two grand pile up fast. Nobody chastises the hero for using the villain before taking him down. Mom would understand.
Evie clears her calendar for me. We huddle in the glass-walled conference room, visible from the bullpen in a way that makes me squirm. With ten reporters on staff, our relationship is no secret, but it still needles me that they don’t know what I’m doing.
She catches me looking too long at the bullpen. “To Alistair, you’re Marcus Wilder. To everyone else, you’re Marcus Philips. Don’t blur it.”
“People already think you’re playing favorites.”
“I am.” She doesn’t even blink. “I gave you the story of a lifetime. You didn’t land a fifty-grand painting by accident. My research is the only reason this is so easy.”
“I wouldn’t call yesterday easy.”
“You did good,” she says, and even though her praise is like dropping a coin into my slot, I can’t help but want more.
“Now it’s serious. Alistair’s parties are legendary.
You won’t be allowed to take your phone.
It will be you, him, and an invite list that makes the Oscars salivate.
” She leans in. “Don’t forget why you’re there.
Nurse your drink, and don’t accept one you didn’t watch get poured. ”
“You think he drugs people?”
“I think he engineers plausible deniability.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Marcus, you were invited to a party filled with people rich enough to be careless and protected enough to be cruel. If you find what he’s hiding, there could be lawsuits you can’t afford, whispers that make editors stop returning your calls. He’ll try to ruin your career.”
The back of my neck prickles until I remember I barely have a career to ruin.
“And he’ll come for me too,” she adds. “If he figures you out, he’ll come for us both. Once you find something, the story is our only protection.”
“Great.” I stare at the glass wall and choke out a laugh. “So what am I looking for? I’m assuming there’s no neon arrow blinking inner circle this way.”
Evie’s mouth tightens. “The patron-of-the-arts bullshit you’re now part of is Alistair’s cover story. You’re looking for what’s underneath.”
“Don’t think he has a dungeon under the guesthouse.”
“It’s more cult than cage,” she says. “He’s already told you what to wear. Now you need him to stick you in his little game and tell you who you are.”
“With his tests,” I say.
She nods, satisfied I’m keeping up.
The outlandish parts of my prep suddenly feel less like internet lore and more like a blueprint: Alistair’s three-part loyalty test. Pass, and he owes you a favor.
Fail, and you’re gone. That’s as much as we know.
It would be flimsy if not for the suit in the garment bag and the check in my pocket.
A rumor stops feeling like a rumor once it shows up with your name on it.
“Whoever passes can ask for whatever their heart desires,” Evie whispers.
“Like a twisted genie.”
“Exactly. He has unlimited cash and zero ethics. Imagine that kind of power aimed straight at whatever you want.”
We both hesitate until I shake loose from the image. “I won’t be there long enough for that to matter. Get in, find the inner circle, get proof, get out.”
“I’m not convinced you understand.”
“I grew up with someone like him,” I say. “Controlling. Manipulative. I can handle it.”
She presses her mouth to my cheek as a stamp of approval. “This is your hall pass. If it takes kissing ten guys to earn his trust, do it. If he wants secrets, give him shadows. You can’t walk into a lion’s den and be surprised you might get bitten.”
I try not to let her see my surprise. This is what I signed up for, and it’s not strange for my editor to encourage me to do whatever it takes.
“It won’t come to that,” I say.
“But if it does,” she replies, sharpening her tone, “you don’t hesitate.”
I nod. “I won’t.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Then you’re ready.”
I tell myself it’s a professional sacrifice. And my body, traitor that it is, stays perfectly still, ready to accept whatever orders come next.