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“What kind of problems?” I wait for someone to raise the question, but the members are too distracted by the chance to meet Dolly without her usual chaperone.
“So, we’re going to be stuck in that roof space for longer?” Jynxson mutters.
“We can’t risk Dolly or the investors warning Delta that we’re coming,” I reply.
At three thirty, the sound of an approaching helicopter makes us both startle. I expected them to arrive in a limousine, but this method of transport makes me wonder if they’re shooting on one of the other islands within the archipelago.
“Camila,” I say into the headset. “Dose him up.”
Jynxson switches his laptop screen to a display of all the monitors we set up around the penthouse. I check the group chat to find that Dolly has entered, telling the investors to join her upstairs at the penthouse at four.
I stare at the screen for the first glimpse of Dolly. A blond man, with hair identical to her companion at the airport, steps through the balcony door.
Fury heats my blood at the reminder that he and his friends put my Amethyst in a straitjacket and trafficked her across the country. I enlarge the image, recognizing him from that graveyard video.
Behind him is a woman who looks identical to my little ghost, from the striking green eyes to the two-toned hair. My heart lurches. The only difference is the taste in clothes. Amethyst would never wear white.
“That’s your girl,” Jynxson mutters.
“That’s Dolly,” I growl.
“I can’t tell the difference.”
She steps into the penthouse and spins around in a circle. The blond follows close behind and wraps his arms around her waist.
“This is gorgeous,” she says and kisses him on the mouth.
“There,” I say. “Amethyst wears black. She likes black decors.”
“She also likes blonds,” Jynxson says.
I flash my teeth.
A black-haired man in his late twenties steps in through the balcony and pauses to take in the penthouse with a low whistle.From the bulge in his leather jacket and the way his beady eyes check out all the exits, I can tell he’s here as security.
The blond man leads Dolly straight toward the wet bar and fills a bucket with ice. She extracts a bottle of champagne from the cooler and places it in the bucket.
“Amethyst recently had a bad experience with champagne,” I mutter, remembering the time I had to save her from that book fair bastard’s limo. “And she prefers vodka.”
“We won’t be able to make any moves until Delta arrives anyway,” Jynxson replies, still not sounding convinced that Dolly is Amethyst’s twin. “Once we capture him, we can sort out who’s who.”
There’s a knock on the door, and the black-haired man crosses the space to let in a stream of room service staff pushing in trolleys of food. They park the buffet at the side of the room, along with several bottles of wine and an assortment of drinks.
The black-haired man hands the staff tips before escorting them to the door. As soon as it shuts, Dolly strides up to him with two glasses.
“Seth, I want you watching my back. Intervene if any of those assholes get too close.”
The black-haired man turns to Dolly and frowns. “But Delta said?—”
“Delta isn’t coming,” she snaps.
Eyes widening, I lock gazes with Jynxson.
“I’m his wife, which means I own fifty percent of X-Cite Media, which means I get to choose who I fuck.”
The blond wraps an arm around her shoulder. “That’s right. This evening is just a meet and greet. We’ll stay for an hour or two and then take the chopper back to the asylum.”
Asylum?
