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I watch her, a little terrified, a little in awe. “You want Felton to kill Christian for you?”

“No. I want Felton to kill anyone I ask him to kill.” She picks up her cocktail and sips it. “That’s true love.”

“You’re gonna be a real hoot on your True Crime doc.”

Darcy cackles. “I know, right? Drink up. It’s not poisoned, I promise.” To prove her point, she leans forward and sucks on my straw, leaving red lipstick marks on it before leaning back again. “Get enough of these in me and I’ll swim with you.”

Four cocktails later, Darcy is lazing on a watermelon floaty, hat abandoned, sunglasses balanced on her face. I’m sitting on the edge of the pool, consuming my cocktails at a steadier pace. There’s no way I’ll get that cell phone if I’m hammered.

“Why did your parents call you Sunday?” Darcy asks, tapping the surface of the water like it’s piano keys.

“I don’t know. I was born on a Friday.”

“You never asked?”

“I did, but I never got a straight answer.”

She hums quietly, takes off her sunglasses and tosses them into the pool. They twist and sink to the bottom. “My dad wanted to call me Delilah.”

“That’s pretty. Darcy’s pretty, too.”

I allow a minute to pass, then another, the sounds of birds singing and the slow-moving trees filling the quiet. With every passing second, my heart rate increases, because this is my chance. If I don’t do it now, I might not be able to. “I’m just going to the bathroom.”

Darcy nods sleepily, and I stand, quickly drying my legs and feet on a towel before heading inside. The shade instantly cools my sun-kissed skin, and I peer to my right, toward the sound of the meeting. The housekeeper appears but doesn’t notice me as he carries a tray of drinks in the direction of what sounds like Felton’s laughter.

Despite being barefoot, I tiptoe through the house. Cole told me where Felton’s office is from our room, so I start there, breathing deep with each step. My heart battles with my rib cage as I walk down sunlit glass walkways, replaying Cole’s instructions in my mind, passing endless heavy mahogany doors until I reach the right one.

Now I just need to open it. Bracing myself, I feel for the small tear in the bikini that I made earlier. Inside is a small, metal device Cole gave me, I just need to⁠—

“Lost, darling?”

Chapter 10

Sunday

The words are like a bullet, and I rear back.

A man stands at the end of the hall. He wasn’t at the party last night, or breakfast this morning, and judging by the leather carry case in his hand, he isn’t a member of staff I missed.

“Sorry?” I whisper.

He approaches, coming into the light so I can make out his features. He’s older, maybe in his mid-fifties, silver-tinged auburn hair swept back. He has a thick, neatly trimmed beard, and the most astonishing green eyes. His suit looks freshly pressed, white shirt open to reveal a sprinkling of silver chest hair.

“I asked if you were lost,” he repeats, his attention sweeping across my face.

I swallow. “Um … yes. I was looking for the bathroom.”

He searches my eyes, and I hold my breath as he gently takes hold of my chin, tilting my head back. “What interesting eyes.” I can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think while pinned under his gaze. It’s as if the world has stilled, but it isn’t romance or lust that keeps me in place for this man.

It’s fear.

Stoic, clawing terror.

I don’t believe in auras. I don’t think ghosts exist. The supernatural doesn’t win out against science for me.

But this man … he’s darkness and threat and horror spun to create a handsome face to lure in those who can’t see his shadows.

“What’s your name?” he asks, voice low and deep.