20
Oscar, who doesn’t usually handle confrontations well, looks frazzled, but he nods immediately, agreeing to Dominic’s request. Inside the elevator, I take Dominic’s hand, holding it like a proper girlfriend. When Oscar turns to push the button, I trace the letters MB inside Dominic’s palm. His eyes widen just a smidgen, and then he offers the smallest nod. Message delivered.
But when we step inside Oscar’s room and he moves the furniture he’d used to block the bedroom and bathroom doors, there’s no one tied up on the bed as I’d imagined Miles would be. My gaze shifts to the window, and sure enough it’s open a crack. I guess I’m not surprised that window escapes have become Miles’s signature move.
“Oh no, oh no.” Oscar spins in a circle, his hands resting on his head. “He’s gone. Oh shit, this is bad—”
“Maybe if we knew what he looked like we could keep an eye out for him,” Dominic says. “Did you get a picture?”
“No, goddammit!” Oscar tugs a hand through his hair, practically yanking it out. “I swear that guy is after Ellie, and if he’s one of Bruno’s thugs—”
“What thugs?” Dominic asks. He rests a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “Sit down, man. Relax. Let’s figure this out together.”
“Bruno? The guy who’s working for my dad?” I ask.
Oscar looks up at me, desperation in his eyes. “He’s bad news, Ellie. I tried to tell you.”
I’m listening to this bit of news about the mysterious Bruno, I really am, but my immediate concern is with the guy who clearly just climbed out the window of this room. Dominic proves to be a mind reader because he says, “Give Ellie that jacket. She can take it down to the desk and see if the hotel staff know of any guests wearing that coat.”
“Great idea,” I say, grabbing the jacket from Oscar.
When I’m exiting the room, I hear Dominic say in a pacifying voice, “Start at the beginning, and tell me everything about this guy.”
I race down the hall and swipe the key card to my room. I can’t believe Oscar’s been here a freakin’ week and I didn’t notice. The guy’s got invisibility skills, that’s for sure. Or I’m slipping. Our room and a few beside us all have balconies, so I head straight for the sliding door and nearly have a heart attack when I spot Miles standing on the balcony two rooms down. I poke my head outside and wave to him. Seconds later he’s standing on the carpet right in front of my duffel bag. I quickly close the door, shivering from only seconds of exposure to the January wind chill. Having lost his jacket wrestling Oscar, Miles is wearing only a T-shirt and jeans. His nose is red and his hands are redder, dry, the skin cracking.
“How long were you out there?”
He does his best to look completely fine. “An hour, maybe more.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, then reach for the blanket I left lying on the couch. I toss it over his shoulders and pull the edges together in front of him. I take his freezing hands and try to cover them with my warmer ones.
Miles slides his hands from mine, opens the blanket, and wraps it around both of us. He lays his cold cheek against mine. “You know this would work even better with all our clothes off.”
Despite all the panic of the last few minutes, I laugh. Then his cold hand touches my cheek, and I get right back to business. “Come on, you gotta put your hands in warm water before you get frostbite. I’ll make some hot tea.”
After a few minutes underwater, his hands look better but still chapped and showing early signs of blisters. I force him onto the couch, hand him a cup of tea, and then I dig through Justice’s and Chantel’s bathroom supplies until I find a bottle of lotion. Miles wrinkles his nose at it. “It smells like flowers.”
“It’s the best I could do.” I take one of his hands and work gobs of pink lotion into it.
He sits perfectly still, watching me. “So the blond guy who locked me up? He’s family?”
“Sort of,” I say, moving onto his other hand. “My parents have always called him my cousin.”
“Does your family usually marry cousins?”
I give him a bewildered look and release his hand. “Um, no.”
“He told me you and he were supposed to get married.”
The lotion slips through my hand and falls to the floor. “What?”
“Then your mom went to jail and everything was ruined.” Miles reaches for the cup of tea now that his hands are good and slippery. “He was pacing the room and kept saying everything was ruined and he couldn’t protect you and your dad was gonna get us all in trouble. I felt sorry for the guy. He’s great at tailing a suspect but definitely no interrogator.”
“He said we were getting married?” I ask again. I mean what the hell? “Seriously?”
“He used the word ‘betrothed.’” Miles takes a sip of his tea, hiding behind the paper cup, but I still catch that hint of amusement on his face. “He seems like quite a catch.”
“He’s delusional,” I conclude. “A complete nutcase.”
“He did say he had planned on waiting until you turned eighteen to propose,” Miles adds. “Seems logical to me, hardly the words of an insane man.”
I suppress a shudder and then force my thoughts away from this appalling bit of news. “You can’t keep roaming around this hotel. The FBI agents are on patrol, plus Holden students will recognize you, and obviously Oscar will.”
“You’re right.” He touches a finger to my lips, quieting me. “But I’m here now.”
Slowly I move his finger from my mouth and lean in to kiss him. No one is better at distracting me with kisses than Miles. I’m lost in it, loving the way his hands feel on my skin, his lips on my neck, but somewhere in the back of my head a voice keeps asking, What is this? What are we doing? Is this what it means to be in a relationship with Miles? Stolen kisses at random times with no warning or idea of when we’ll see each other again? After a lifetime of indefinites, I’m kind of over that thrill.
The questions get to me and I pull away, putting space between us.
“What’s wrong?” He reaches a hand out to touch my face, but I slide back. “Ellie?”
“Why are we meeting like this? With you hanging out a window nearly freezing to death.” I shake my head, hoping to remove those images from my memory. “Why can’t you just call me? Or tell me where you’re staying and I’ll come there during my free time. It’s gotta be safer than you showing up here or at the building where my dad’s operation—”
“I can’t do that,” he says, painfully, truthfully.
“What if there’s an emergency? What if I need your help? You said to call you if I needed anything, but you’ve been off the grid. After what happened with Jack and Rider back in November, I get a little freaked out when you’re nowhere to be found.” Dial it back, Ellie. You’re one step away from holding him captive in your hotel room. “And I’m not the only one worried. Dominic has been a mess; he’s stuck on the fact that he didn’t help me look for you at the party after Jack had taken you.”
“Did you tell him you saw me yesterday?” Miles asks in a tone that is very different from the one he used to suggest we get naked for warmth. I recognize this voice from last semester when he and I were still on the fence about trusting each other.
“Yeah, I told him, and he also knows Oscar found you today.”
“Then everything is fine,” Miles states, like he’s just solved a problem.
“It’s not fine. Nothing is fine.” I stand up, needing to move. “The truth about Simon’s death being a murder and not suicide is out in the open now. Aidan’s name was cleared. Jack is dead, the St Felicity’s people took care of the other dudes who helped kidnap us.”
Miles shoves the blanket off his legs. “What’s your point, Ellie?”
“My point is”—I spin to face him—“who the hell are you running from?”
“Besides your cousin?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Why did your parents ask me to erase you from Holden’s school records?”
“You already know the honors program is top secret.” His tone is no longer defensive. It’s full of exasperation.
“Oh, I see. It’s normal procedure. So Marshall Academy takes no responsibility for protecting its students? They expect all the parents to have access codes to hack into a system and make sure their kid is lifted from the records?”
“My parents are extra cautious. Understandable considering their jobs,” he says.
“Who are you running from, Miles?” I ask again, knowing this may put us at a standstill.
We stare at each other for several long moments, and I know that he’s not going to tell me. And I’m not going to offer an ultimatum, but we both know I’m also not going to let things continue like this. “Just tell me if I should be worried, if you’re running from someone involved in Simon’s death. If I’m in danger.”
He stands and steps out in front of the coffee table. “If you stay away from your dad, then there’s no danger.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!” I lift my hands, frustrated. “My dad is a lot of crappy things, but dangerous isn’t one of them. I’ve never even heard him so much as utter a threat, let alone—”
Someone knocks softly on the door, stopping me. I glance at Miles and then rush over to the peephole. If it’s housekeeping, they’ll barge right in if no one says anything. That happened to me yesterday. Dominic is standing outside the door, his head shifting left and right, checking for watchful eyes. And he’s alone. No Oscar. I open the door just enough for him to slip through and then I lock it again and put the chain on.
“Okay, Oscar is gone for a while. He went to look for your dad—” Dominic spots Miles and a grin spreads across his face. “Dude, where the hell have you been?”
I give Miles a pointed look. “Great question.”
“Oh, you know, around,” Miles says with an air of dismissal.
It’s probably my fault Dominic is fine with this answer; I’m the one who gave the lecture at breakfast stating that Miles will tell us what he’s up to if he needs us to know and otherwise to stay out of it.
“Oscar was seriously going batshit over the so-called thugs Bruno is in with,” Dominic tells me. “I thought he was just confused or paranoid, but then he mentioned the Zanettis. He doesn’t mean Zanetti as in Loredo Zanetti, right?”
Dominic waits for me to answer, but I shrug. “Who is Loredo Zanetti?”
“Seriously?” Dominic asks, like he doesn’t believe me. He glances over at Miles.
“He’s a mobster.” Miles’s expression is completely blank when he says this, which I’ve learned is what he looks like when he’s just been dropped a giant bomb. He turns to Dominic. “Are you sure he said Zanetti? And not Nanzetti or Zenniti? Jacob Nanzetti is listed in the FBI database as a suspect in an ongoing investigation of several mortgage recovery scams.”
“It was definitely Zanetti,” Dominic says firmly. “He even went on about them being Jersey scum. The Zanettis own restaurants in Jersey, right?”
Okay, so maybe Bruno’s Jersey dialect is real.
Miles nods slowly. He looks like he’s far away from here, putting something together inside his head. “I still have some FBI database privileges. Let me look into it.”
“Thanks, man.” Dominic gives his shoulder a squeeze like they’re old buddies, like Miles is working with us not running from us. “As much as I’d love to hang out, you should probably take advantage of Ellie’s crazy cousin being out and escape while you can.”
“Yeah, good idea.” Miles moves toward the door, and it takes everything in me to not call him back. He turns to look at me for a beat before opening the door. He holds my gaze. “If you need me, text me, okay?”
My heart swells even though it’s just a tiny olive branch. It’s something. But I can tell he means if I need him, like kidnapped and held captive kind of need. Not the I miss hearing your voice need. I don’t know if that’s the hero complex speaking, especially now that mobsters were dropped into the conversation, or the guy who is supposed to be my boyfriend.
“Hey,” Dominic says, lifting the jacket from the floor. “Don’t forget this. It’s fucking frigid outside.”
“Yeah, I know,” Miles says, rubbing his raw hands together. “But I’ll get a new one. I don’t want that to be an identifier.”
This time he exits out the door like a regular person, and I can almost fool myself into thinking he can come back this way anytime. But I know he won’t. Today was too close of a call, and I left him with mixed signals.
“So he’s really okay.” Dominic plops down onto the couch. “What are we going to do about these Zanettis?”
“It doesn’t even make sense,” I argue, even though my head is still stuck thinking about Miles. “My dad is stealing money from the stage moms peddling their kids via tap-dancing skills—where exactly do mobsters fit into this?”
“Beats me,” Dominic says. “But I think you gotta ask the boss man.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I pick up my phone from the coffee table and see that I have a missed text. “Speak of the devil.”
HAYES: Lunch? On me
I show the message to Dominic and he nods. “Go. I’ll cover for you with Lance and Geist.”
We both quiet at the sound of a key card being swiped on the other side of the door. Seconds later Justice walks in, a huge stack of brochures in her arms. “Why did I just see Miles Beckett in this hotel?”
“Uh…” Dominic starts.
“And why did he smell like my lotion?” Justice shakes her head. “Actually, don’t answer that second question. Ignorance is bliss.”
“He may have arranged a visit to NYU that coordinates with the Holden trip,” I say.
She gives me a bewildered look. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I could have helped you sneak away earlier or made sure you had some time alone.”
“I don’t know, I mean, he skipped the school tour to come here, so…” I don’t know what else to say to save this. “You could cover for me this afternoon? So I can meet him for lunch.”
“Done.” She walks toward the bedroom. “I need a power nap. College talk is exhausting. Wake me up in thirty?”
When the door to the bedroom she and Chantel are sharing closes, Dominic leans his head back and sighs. “God, how do you do this shit all the time? I’m on the verge of a dozen nervous breakdowns.”
I laugh, mostly because he looks fine, not ready to crack at all. “You just sit there in your stressed-out state, and I’ll go ask my dad if he’s made friends with any mobsters lately.”
“Have fun with that.”
I leave Dominic in my room and head back down to the ballroom so I can make an appearance before taking off to meet my dad. He and I definitely have a few things to talk about.