Page 132 of The Dollhouse

The boy. It was what both Roman and I had taken to calling Wyatt. Lake was no longer the boy of the group; the new guy was. Lake should be happy someone else had taken over the position.

“Probably a good idea,” I agreed with him.

Zoey wouldn’t be happy if we shot up her new toy, and I bet it would take a lot of money for the police here to look away. That, or we would have to ask Markus to pull more strings since he had connections everywhere.

Who knew how much it helped out when all the cops around you were just as dirty as you? God, I couldn’t wait until I got home and no one cared about hiding their corruption.

Zoey didn’t call. She didn’t text back, either. It felt like forever until she got home and Roman and I sat down with her. We let her know that we both had something to tell her, and I went first, relaying everything Willow had said and done while she was here. That’s when we learned Willow had followed her home from the party last weekend, hence how she knew where we lived.

Still, considering everything, Zoey held it together pretty well. She listened to everything I had to say, everything Willow did, with a patient expression on her face. She’d gotten much better at hiding whatever it was she was feeling, although perhaps that was because she was back in Hillcrest and it was a survival tactic.

Or a defense mechanism.

After I finished telling her, Zoey sat there, taking it all in, tapping her fingers on her knees. Both Roman and I stared at her, waiting for her to say something, anything, to clue us in to what she was thinking.

“I’m not surprised,” Zoey said, finally breaking her silence. “I should’ve expected Willow would try something with one of you, whoever she could get to, the moment she told me she’d followed me home. She came at me in the union the other day, trying to get me to back off Wyatt. I didn’t, obviously, and I swore today I saw her hanging around outside, watching us together. Then when she wasn’t in class…” She shook her head. “I should’ve thought about it harder. I should’ve guessed what she was up to.”

“You can’t be inside your sister’s head,” Roman told her. “But now that we know she’s aware of where we are, we can be better prepared.”

“Based on what Carter told her, I don’t think we have to worry about her coming back here. Not for a while, anyway.” Zoey reached up and touched her neck, scratching just below her jaw. “Just wait until Sunday when she sees the video.”

“Speaking of,” Roman spoke. He stood near the couch Zoey sat on, while I had taken up a cushion to her left. His arms were folded over his chest, his typical no-nonsense expression on his face. “Carter and I have to leave for a little bit on Saturday. Someone tried to steal from Sylvester, and he wants them dead.”

Zoey leaned back, staring at Roman as if she could change things. “And Sylvester doesn’t have anyone else he could send to take care of it instead of you two?”

I said, “You know we’re the best at what we do.”

“Yeah, but he’s got other people who know how to shoot, too—plus Lola,” Zoey muttered. “Why can’t they do it? I need you two here for the dinner on Sunday. It won’t mean as much if I don’t have an entourage.” She wanted to show us off; neither of us could blame her for that. We were two very impressive men, especially to the standards of this city.

“If he sends them, everyone will know,” Roman explained. “You send us if you don’t want anyone knowing it was you who sent us. If Sylvester sent Maddox or Viper or Big Mike—word would inevitably get out that he was pissed. He doesn’t want that.”

She sighed. “I’m not going to even pretend like I understand any of the mob politics.” Zoey waved a hand in the air, as if pushing aside everything Roman and I had just said. “So, what you’re saying is you won’t be here Sunday.”

“That’s not what I said,” Roman spoke. “We will do everything in our power to get back in time for your dinner, that I promise you.”

That got Zoey to shut up. She knew Roman didn’t make promises he did not intend to keep, or at least do everything in his power to try. And where Roman went, I followed. It wasn’t like I wanted to miss the dinner. I kind of wanted to see Zoey throw down with her family; I’d met her sister, but I hadn’t met her parents yet. They all sounded like big, fat assholes with equally fat wallets.

“Well,” she said, “at least you’ll be here tomorrow night, because I am not postponing that. I invited him over. Wyatt’s coming.” She got up, and I followed. “We need to get the room ready.” Zoey’s blue eyes turned to me, and I was struck at just how different they were compared to her sister’s. I’d thought, earlier, that Willow’s eyes were the same, but they weren’t.

Zoey’s were a much deeper blue, clearer and cleaner, more crisp of a color. More beautiful, and they held every ounce of my attention when they turned toward me.

She didn’t say how we needed to get the room ready, but I knew. Roman left the room, which meant it would be up to Zoey and me to do it. What I expected, honestly. Roman didn’t want this to happen tomorrow night; his jealousy would flare up like a wild, angry beast inside his soul. It was the same reason he didn’t let Zoey dance at the Dollhouse. From the beginning, Roman only wanted Zoey for himself and me.

What he was letting her do tomorrow went against his very nature, against his obsessive control, his need to dominate Zoey and possess her entirely and completely. The only reason he was letting her, I think, was because this was Hillcrest and it served a purpose. Or it would, once it was said and done.

Zoey kept saying she wasn’t developing any feelings for this new boy, and even though my own jealousy made me wonder, I believed she wouldn’t lie to us. She did mention he reminded her of Lake, so maybe that’s why she seemed to have a soft side for Wyatt. Maybe that’s also why I kept referring to him as a boy.

We rearranged the furniture, went to the store to get some room-darkening drapes. We also bought a little stereo, a pink one, at Zoey’s insistence. It could hook up to her phone so she could play whatever music she wanted. We also got the last thing we’d need for this little show Zoey would put on… and we hid that something where Wyatt wouldn’t notice.

Zoey’s game was officially on. This was the start of the final countdown.

Chapter Eleven – Zoey

Friday morning, it was insanely hard to focus in class. Not that I cared about focusing and getting good grades, but I had too much on my mind to really be there in more than body. My spirit was elsewhere, back at the house with Roman and Carter, my soul sad that they had to leave tomorrow and might possibly not be back in time for dinner at the Marbella household on Sunday.

But beyond that, my mind was simply elsewhere. What I’d do tonight, the little show I’d put on. I knew I toed the line when it came to Wyatt and what I was doing, but it was obviously the easiest way to piss Willow off, and after everything she’d tried to do—come to my house and try to fuck Carter—I had to do it.

No one tried to take Carter or Roman or Lake away from me. They were mine, and I would play as dirty as I had to in order for the world to see it.

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