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“I have to go home, don’t I? Fuck. I’m afucking walking cliche,” she raged at the computer while typing inthe address. She didn’t trust herself to make the right turnswithout assistance and maxed out the volume just in case. “If Idon’t listen to you, we’ll end up in Canada. Or Mexico. Andhonestly, right now, I’m okay with that too. Wouldn’t matteranyway, right? Nobody really gives a shit.” Or just not the personshe wanted to.
****
She made it home. Not to Peoria, but theFitzgerald compound nestled in Lincoln Park. Coming up from thegarage, she met Vince, the head of Security. Which meant StepmomNumber Three was out shopping. Catherine always greeted her stepkids when they came home, and being a novelist, she was home almostall the time.
Zara adjusted her oversized sunglasses,conscious of how much Vince would notice in her demeanor. Shecleared her throat before greeting him. “Dad really has you workingtwenty-four-seven, huh?”
“Not too much. But you know how it is.” Heshrugged a broad shoulder, and the gun holstered at his chest shonefaintly in the light, clean as the day it’d been stolen. “We didn’texpect to see you today, Z.” His expression was warm but somewhatwary. Like he expected a fight too. “Everything okay at school? Youforget something?”
“Just wanted to, um, talk to Dad.” Shelooked behind him at the main door.
“Really?”
He sounded far too shocked. Zarafrowned.
“Am I not allowed in? Cause that’d be parfor the goddamn course today.”
“No, no. Of course not. You know the door’salways open for you kids.”Except one. But neither of themneeded to say that out loud. Vince’s head tilted. “You sound off.You coming down with campus crud already?”
“Maybe.” She bit her lip. “Is Dad here or atthe office?”
“In his study.” Vince reached down to takeher tote bag, shouldering it like it weighed nothing and glancingtoward the gates. She didn’t miss his fingers twitching toward thegun as a car backfired somewhere close. “Come on. Let’s get youindoors.”
“You’re not seriously worried about adrive-byhere?” she asked. They climbed the stairs to themassive, ornate front doors a bootlegging great-grandparent hadpillaged from some long-gone French chateau.
“Just you catching pneumonia.”
Zara laughed. “You’re worse than ournannies.”
“Who do you remember handling you littlemonsters between those nannies quitting?”
She bit back a quip and smiled instead.“Well, we didn’t kill one another, and only one of us landed inprison, so you did a pretty good job.”
Vince’s easy smile flickered, and hecoughed. “Maybe don’t bring up your brother anytime soon,” he saidso quietly she barely heard. A chill swept down Zara’s back. Benhad been a touchy subject since Dad cut him off, and three yearsago, it had become official policy not to speak of him in publiconce he’d nearly killed his fiancée and her best friend while highout of his mind.
The conviction was swift, and the trialclosed thanks to three teams of fabulously expensive lawyers andthe victims’ families’ agreement. But the whispers leaked outthrough the grapevines anyway. It was difficult to miss that Ben’sfiancée’s family, once firm fixtures at the holidays and friendlyto Ethan’s political aspirations, would no longer acknowledge theFitzgeralds. Catherine was still mourning the damage they’d dealtto her social calendar almost as much as Ethan pined for hisnow-lost political goals.
“What did he do?” she whispered back,grabbing Vince’s wrist before he could vanish upstairs with herbag. “Tell me, please.”
“Nothing you need to worry about.” Whichwasn’t the same as “nothing,” and meant Dad had given clearinstructions on which kids needed to know. “I’ll take your bag. Yougo see your dad, yeah?” Zara pursed her lips and nodded, releasinghim.
A spark of hope kindled in her chest.Maybe Dane knows something about Ben too? Maybe he was beingmean to keep me out of his way?And then reality hit.But Dane wouldn’t see Ben now. Not after everything. Don’t bestupid, Zara. Denial isn’t going to make it better.
She ducked into the nearest powder room tohide until the tears stopped again, then touched up her face withconcealer to hide the worst of the blotches, and thank God forwaterproof mascara and Catherine’s habit of stashing cosmeticessentials in every single bathroom. Once Zara was sure she lookedmostly normal, she ventured toward the study just off the library,her steps slowing the closer she got to the vaulted doorway. Shestopped when excited barking and the skittering of canine claws onhardwood alerted her to the real welcome team. Fallon and Dodgertore around the corner, tongues lolling and tails wagging. Sheknelt to hug them and dole out scritches and praise. They smelledlike coconuts, so they’d seen the groomers. She wondered if thathad been Gia or Catherine’s doing.
A few moments of happiness passed beforeFallon turned and bounded off toward the study.Dad’s definitelyin there, then. “Traitor,” Zara muttered after the ficklefoxhound, leaning into Dodger’s sturdy side. Being a trulydiscerning character, Dodger never really liked males of anyspecies. “If you see Dane, bite him. Okay?” The pit bull chuffed,and his tail slammed into her leg. Zara stood up. “Well, I’m goinginto the dragon’s den. Go see Vince.”
She waited for him to amble off in the rightdirection, then took a breath and aimed her feet toward the study.Her father was present, as Vince promised, with Fallon stretchedout by his desk, gnawing on a fox-shaped chew toy. Adam Fitzgeraldlooked up from his tablet and raised a brow. The gleaming oakpanels matched his eyes—all warmth on the surface, but hard as arock if you ran into them. Zara felt a sudden kinship with crashtest dummies.
“So that’s what all the yapping was about.Aren’t you supposed to be at school?” her father asked. The richtimbre of his voice was comforting, even if she was sure they wereabout to yell at one another.
“We need to talk, Dad.”
“Ah.” He set the tablet down and leaned backin his plush, leather seat, gesturing to the equally upholsteredmonstrosity across from him. “Did one of the others callyou?”
“What? Why would they?” Zara sat on the edgeof the chair, fighting the urge to drag her phone from her pocketto check her messages. “Hannah usually does for the start ofclasses, but she’s busy with the next concert and—”
“Perhaps we best start with why you’re hereand not in those very expensive classes, in that case.”
