I turn to see Jamison Hart smiling at me. Yes. There. I instantly feel a pull toward him, something stronger than Romeo’s influence over me thus far. Everything feels exactly the same between us, like we’re back at the Woodland Castle, and I have to resist the urge to reach out and run my fingers through his golden hair. His blue eyes are gazing at me with interest and curiosity, which means he doesn’t know why I’m here. He hasn’t noticed someone else’s hand wrapped around mine yet.
But it only takes him another second to figure it out. His gaze lowers down the length of my white dress, all the way to my sneakers, then back up my bare legs again, stopping where my fingers are intertwined with Romeo’s.
“And if it isn’t Jamison Hart,” I say, my voice too loud and eager. Shit. I’m disproportionately excited for what should only be an encounter with a potential love interest. Even Reese notices, his fingers tightening in a warning.
Chill out, Eliza.
Calm yourself down, Eliza.
Stop gaping like a nitwit, Eliza. You’re practically drooling.
But Jamie hasn’t even noticed. He’s staring at Mellie Hart now, his face as close to unpleasant as I’ve ever seen it. I didn’t even know he was capable of not smiling. It’s like he sees her as his evil stepmother or something. His jaw is clenched, and he clearly does not like her. At all.
“I thought you left for London,” he says curtly.
Mellie shrugs, unfazed. “The divorce hasn’t been finalized yet. Gallagher thought I should stick around for a few more days.”
“There’s only two of us allowed on that yacht,” he spits out. “Remember who it’s named after? Claire. I don’t care if you’re still trying to replace my mother even when it’s clear that you’re no longer a Hart. I deserve that spot next to my father. It’s a family tradition. You do understand what that means, don’t you?”
None of us fail to notice his particular emphasis on family tradition.
“Okay,” says Mellie, her tone sharpening slightly. “I never asked for a spot on your family’s yacht. I came along to keep up appearances and have some fun. But your father had to deal with some business for a while, so it’ll just be you and me in the race. Will that be a problem, Jamison?”
The stormy look on his face indicates that he’s going to be on the Claire either without her or not at all. I have to do something before he decides to leave the marina or, worse, tries to get his stepmother kicked out. I’m improvising, deviating from the script, but this is the perfect opportunity for us to get closer.
And I have to know if it was all in my head or not.
“Come on,” I say, pulling away from Romeo and taking Jamie’s arm. “I need a cocktail, and you look like you need... something stronger.”
After a tense moment, Jamie allows me to lead him over to the bartender. As he orders a mojito and a double whiskey on the rocks, I take a seat on a barstool, swiveling around to watch the crowd waiting for the sailing race to begin. If I squint just right, I can almost convince myself that I really am Lily Bass, that I don’t have an aberration, that this is just another day in my perfectly normal life.
“For the lady,” says Jamie, handing me a tall glass garnished with fresh mint leaves. He sits down next to me and takes a large gulp of his whiskey, then glances sideways at me. “Sorry about that. I find it extremely difficult to be polite to my stepmother. Most people are fooled by her demeanor, but they’ve never seen her screaming and flinging priceless antiques at my father. If she had her way, the Claire would be in ashes by now. At least I’ll never have to see her again after the divorce.”
“Wow.” I take an equally large swallow of my mojito, the intense flavor of mint and rum and lime sending a shiver down my spine. “I guess I’m lucky my dad never remarried after my mom died.”
He looks at me, surprised. “I didn’t know that.”
“That my dad didn’t marry anyone else?”
“No. That your mother died.”
I shrug casually, as if I didn’t know that was what he meant. “It happened when I was really young. I don’t remember her well, but my dad always said she was the best thing ever.”
Jamie nods, his features relaxing. “That’s a nice sentiment. I only met Charles once, but he was still wearing his wedding ring.”
“I wear hers all the time,” I say, showing him a golden ring on a chain around my neck. “I know it’s silly, but I feel like she’s watching over me. It makes me feel closer to her, you know?”
He doesn’t answer at first, and I’m not sure whether to keep going or just give up on this line of conversation entirely. But he’s only setting down his drink on the bar to unclasp a silver watch on his wrist. He shows me an engraving on the back, our heads leaning close together to read the etched words.
For my dearest son, Jamie.
“I know,” he says.
When I lift my gaze, he’s smiling at me with this look in his eyes, like we’re the only two people in the world. I find myself giving him a genuine smile in return. Mentioning my mother wasn’t in the script for today, and I wasn’t even supposed to leave Romeo’s side until the grand finale. But somehow Jamie and I are connecting, really connecting, with such ease that it’s almost unsettling.
It wasn’t in my head after all.
“Well,” he says, leaning back against the bar. “This is refreshing. Most girls would be cooing over me by now, practically on the verge of weeping over my dead mother.”
“I’m not most girls,” I say, setting down my mojito and picking up his drink instead. Maintaining eye contact, I drink the rest of his whiskey all at once, ignoring the stinging in my throat.
Shit. I didn’t expect it to be this strong.
Jamie grins, returning to his normal self. “Suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad if I’m not on that yacht after all.” He signals to the bartender, who seems to understand that he wants two shot glasses filled with whiskey. “Cheers.”
We down our shots together, both of us still smiling, but I’m starting to feel tipsy. What am I doing? I’m not the kind of operative who can pull off a mission while intoxicated. I was supposed to stick to the plan instead of running off with Jamie. But Romeo and Mellie are already boarding the Claire, preparing to sail away together, and it’s like my fellow operative has forgotten about me entirely.
Following my gaze, Jamie says, “So what happened to our date, Lily? I have to admit I was surprised when you showed up here with Lawrence Fisher.”
I shrug. “I was pretty freaked out by what happened, but you never tried to call me. I thought you weren’t interested.”
“You disappeared on me,” he says. “I thought you needed time.”
“No way.” On impulse, I wave a hand at the bartender, who pours us another two shots. “I needed to keep going.”
“With me?” asks Jamie. He nods in the direction of Romeo. “Or with him?”
“Lawrence is a former classmate of mine,” I say, reciting from the script. “My dad wanted me to ask him to invest in his business. It’s the reason I went to your party.”
Jamie lets out a laugh. “Good luck with that. Lawrence won’t stop hovering around my father’s company.”
“Ophidian?” I ask, startled. Romeo and I haven’t been discussing it at all. Why wouldn’t he have mentioned this to me when we were planning the mission?
“So you’ve heard of it,” says Jamie, looking amused. He reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle of whiskey, dropping a hundred-dollar bill in its place, then offers me his hand. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I don’t even hesitate. His fingers feel warm and soothing, unlike Reese’s electric but too-tight grip. This I want. This I will gladly accept more of, no matter the cost.
As if we’re children playing tag, we sneak around the bar and head for the shoreline, darting away from the marina, laughing like accomplices who just got away with highway robbery. Normally I would still be acting at this point, focusing on getting closer to my target and making him believe in the possibility of love, but I’m no longer acting. Not at all.
“This is my favorite place in all the world,” says Jamie.
“The ocean?” I ask, a laugh escaping me.
“No,” he says, grinning at the delight on my face. “The lighthouse.”
I’m saved only by my instinct to freeze every aspect of my reaction. My feet stumble to a halt on the shoreline as I blink at Jamie, trying not to look terrified. There it is, a short distance away, overlooking the blue waters of the ocean. An old lighthouse with a “NO TRESPASSING” sign in front of it.
The place where Alpha is watching over us with his sniper rifle.
“But the sailing race,” I say slowly. “Isn’t it starting soon?”
“Who cares?” he says. “I want to show you the lighthouse.”
“But we’re trespassing—”
“Of course we are, Eliza.” Jamie swings around to look straight at me. He’s using my supposedly fake name to make a point, but he doesn’t know it’s my real one, arresting me completely, making me want to hear it again. “Are you in, or are you out?”
I stare back at Jamison Hart, forcing myself to keep breathing evenly. This is it. My target’s favorite place in the entire world, and he’s taking me there while I’m supposed to be on a date with another man. If I back out now, I’ll be rejecting him and this place, and he’ll have no interest in me anymore. Even now, he’s on the verge of exasperation. He clearly didn’t expect me to hesitate. And if my partner wasn’t up there, I’d already be sprinting to the lighthouse, our own private race on the shoreline.
“Oh, I’m in,” I say lightly, pulling free of him.
Without looking back, I start toward the lighthouse, hoping desperately that Alpha has noticed us and abandoned his position. Just in case, I reach into my purse and flip open the compact mirror, initiating a video call with my index finger so he’ll at least hear us talking and know it means danger.
Jamie catches up and spins me around to face him, our lips close enough for a kiss. “Are you sure you’re in? Because you were looking pretty close to Lawrence Fisher when you first arrived.”
I allow myself a small smile internally. “I didn’t think you saw me arrive.”
“Oh, I saw you,” he says. It’s obvious from his tone and expression that he hated seeing me with Romeo, almost as much as he hated seeing his stepmother.
“Then let’s go,” I say, breaking eye contact with Jamie before he can lean any closer. As we enter the old lighthouse, I climb the rickety wooden steps ahead of him, our voices echoing off the moss-covered walls. “So how long have you been coming here?”
“Ever since I was a kid,” he says, from a few steps behind me. “This is where I went when my father pissed me off so badly that I wanted to run away. I always thought it would scare him, you know? Seeing as how my mother drowned in the ocean.” His hand clenches into a fist. “But even though I’d almost drowned as well when I tried to save her, he never cared where I had gone.”
Out of nowhere, a gunshot cracks through the air, making the blood chill inside my veins. Did Alpha just snipe someone from the lighthouse? I’ve had too many drinks all at once to think straight. As if nothing just happened, I climb the rest of the way to the top, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Run, August...
But there’s no one else up here.
“Did you hear that?” Jamie strides over to a window and sets down the bottle of whiskey, gazing out at the ocean. In the distance, the crowd is piling onto the dock, cheering as sailboats and yachts begin to move across the water. Someone must have fired a blank from a pistol to signal the start of the race.
“Hear what?” I ask, still distracted. Where has my partner gone?
“A gunshot,” he says. “For a moment there, I thought someone was going to die again.”
I give a small laugh. “I’m sure that won’t happen—”
But I’m interrupted by a loud explosion from outside. The shock of the blast reaches the shoreline and shakes the lighthouse, sending me tumbling against Jamie without warning. He holds onto me tightly, his expression darkening as screams fill the air below. I follow his gaze to the marina.
Out on the waves, a yacht has burst into flames. My heart seizes inside my chest as Jamie says something to me, but I can’t process anything other than the burning wreckage on the debris-littered water. I can see the name of the yacht painted onto the splintered hull even from here, and it means something has gone wrong with the mission yet again.
Claire.