I clear my throat, waiting for her to look at me. I wait a full minute, having to use a finger to lift her chin. “I don’t know. All I know is, I won’t kiss you until you’re ready.”
Shifting closer, she touches her forehead to mine, our noses touching.
“Are you ready?” I murmur.
“I don’t know,” she whispers.
“That’s a no, beauty. You’ll know when you’re ready.” I pull back, searching for disappointment in her eyes.
I stand reluctantly. Her big blue eyes watch me, an appreciation twinkling up at me.
Leaning down, I touch my lips to her forehead. “Come.” I hold my hand out for hers. “Let’s go watch our siblings all but procreate in front of their guests.”
The warmth of her skin slips into my palm as I pull her up. I wait while she readjusts her dress one-handed, not willing to let her hand go.
“Please don’t joke about that. They’re too much. And they live with me.”
A loud boom of laughter jolts out of me unexpectedly. “If I didn’t find so much joy in your misery, I’d actually feel bad for you.”
“Rude!” She balks. “Don’t talk too soon, Shay. They turn out to be too unbearable and I’ll be moving into your place, messing with your bachelor vibes.”
I squeeze her hand. “Wouldn’t work. My loft has an all-round sugar ban. You wouldn’t survive.”
“You suck joy out of life.”
I push her away gently, our hands holding on until we can no longer reach. “It’s part of my world domination plan.”
Flipping me off, she moves toward her sister, leaving me to stand on the edge of the Rein patio watching her retreat.
“Rocco.” Dominic approaches, a whiskey in his hand.
“Dominic. Nice setup.” I gesture to his back yard, if you could call it that. The grandiose decorations transform the space into a wonderland of tulle, white roses and lanterns. Silver service an added bonus to the over-the-top cocktail party.
“Sarah’s been spotted in the city.” He ignores my praise, drawing my attention immediately.
“What? When?”
“Earlier today,” he worries. “I don’t like it, Rocco. She should’ve gone deeper into hiding. Instead, she’s out in the open. Something’s happening. I don’t know what, but I can feel it, she’s planning something.”
“You sure she’s not just cooked on meth and makin’ stupid decisions?”
“No.” He throws the contents of his glass down his throat, snapping his fingers in the direction of the closest waiter, demanding a refill.
The waiter brings me one too and I mumble a thank you, eyes set on Dominic.
“But we can’t rely on that. Prepare for the worst and hope for the fucking best.”
I sip the amber liquid, letting the earthy flavors soak into my lips. “Do we have any leads of where she’s stayin’?”
His head shakes, a fake smile on his lips, waving to Codi as she drifts past.
“No. Which means she has connections here I don’t know about. Fuck,” he spits, rubbing a hand roughly down his face.
“Boss,” the asshole henceforth known as Dork interrupts.
“What?” Dominic snaps, inhaling heavily to calm himself before turning around. “Apologies. What do you need?”
York shifts uncomfortably on his feet. “Tivoli has asked for you inside. Says it’s urgent.”
I move to walk with Dominic, but he stops me with a hand to my chest. “It’s okay. Enjoy your brother’s wedding. We’ll reassess tomorrow.”
I scowl in indecision.
“Go.” He taps his jacket pocket, opening it to pull out two Cuban cigars. “Find your brother, celebrate.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Camryn
The house is quiet, uncharacteristically so. Unnervingly so. A purposeful hush over the wide space that can only promise disharmony.
It should be bustling with people. Staff fluttering busily; food and drinks on a continuous loop to the guests outside.
Instead, it’s empty. Mayhem decorating the kitchen as though it was placed on pause. Everyone dismissed without warning.
I stop, listening for voices, but hear none.
I turn on high-heeled feet, moving toward my father’s office with purpose.
“York,” I call out as I approach.
He turns to me, appreciation in his beady little eyes.
Total. Creep.
“Where’s Dad? It’s time to cut the cake.”
He clears his throat, straightening his shoulders in importance.
Douche.
“He’s busy.”
My face screws up. “Yeah, no. It’s Codi’s wedding.”
“He’s with someone.” He steps in front of me, cutting off my path as I move toward the door.
“Do yourself a favor, jackass and move your ass out of my way.”
He swallows in uncertainty. “It looked important, Camryn. Two kids, I think they were snooping around the property.”
I lift my hands up in a who-fucking-cares gesture. “Cool story, bruh. Move.”
He hesitates for a split-second before shifting out of my way, muttering, “I better not get fired.”
I slip through my dad’s office door without acknowledging York further. I honestly have no idea why my dad hired him. He is insufferable. Some rich kid with a point to prove to his daddy.
“Everything okay?” I ask my dad as I step inside.
My eyes slice over the two kids sitting on Dad’s office couch automatically, their eyes watching me cautiously.
I give them my full attention, the familiarity in their gray eyes forcing my feet to take a step forward. “Holy shit,” I speak before thinking. “You look so much like—”
“Camryn,” my dad cuts me off. “We’re in the middle of something.”
“Codi wants to cut the cake,” I offer distractedly, my eyes glued to the boy in confusion.
“That’ll have to wait, I’m sorry. Can you please grab Rocco for me?”
“No need,” Rocco’s voice echoes behind me as he moves through the door. “You forgot to give me a guillotine and lighter.” He closes the door behind him, Parker a step in front.
“Fuck me,” Parker speaks first.
Why do movies pretend important events happen in slow motion? I wish that were true so I could take it all in appropriately. Instead, I’m caught between the look of utter bewilderment in Rocco’s eyes and the rough accusation in Parker’s tone. “You look exactly like me.”
I don’t know where to look.
He’s right. This kid, who can’t be much older than fifteen, is a picture of Parker with a reverse aging Snapchat filter. Same dirty blonde hair and virulent jawline. Eyes so similar, they looked plucked from Parker’s face and placed into this random child’s.
“And you’re the spitting image of Lila.” Rocco finally finds his voice, eyes trained on the young girl looking a little too entertained by the influx of people.
Parker inhales fiercely. “Fuck.”
“Who is Lila?” Her voice is like honey, sticky and sweet.
“Our mom,” the boys answer in unison.