Page 95 of The Dollhouse

“Even my money could only do so much,” I told her. “With his connections, you’ll be able to do a lot more here.”

She looked down, at her feet, at the bright pink sneakers she always wore. Those things… God, how I wished I could rip them off her feet and burn them, never see them again, but she adored them, just like she adored the hue of her hair, so I left them alone.

The things you did for love.

“All right,” Zoey said, inhaling deeply. “Let’s get this over with, then.” Side by side we marched up to the front door, the thing exceptionally tall and made of a dark wood. Her eyes were on me, wordlessly asking me to take the lead here, and as I reached out to knock, to hit the doorbell, the door itself opened, and a man stood before us.

Well, I supposed I’d hesitate to call him a man, since he looked quite young. About Lake’s age, though he had an intensity about him Lake didn’t. Brown hair, bright green eyes, lips drawn into a thin line on a freshly-shaven jaw. He wasn’t too tall, but he had some muscle.

“Come on,” he said, sounding a little bored, “Markus is waiting for you. Best not keep him waiting for long.” He spun on his heel, leaving the door open, and started walking away. I took it to mean we should follow him.

Zoey and I trailed after him, and Zoey shut the door behind us, tossing Carter a look before doing so. She probably wished for him at her side as well, but with a man like Markus, I knew it was probably best not to bring the whole gang inside. Another good reason Lake wasn’t here. We didn’t need the whole fucking crew.

We followed the stranger to a door just off the main hall, and he paused before it, knocking once before sticking his head in and announcing our presence: “Your guests are here.”

A voice from inside the room spoke, “Thank you, Jaxon.”

The man, Jaxon, straightened his back as he moved to hold the door open for us, letting us walk in past him. He did not enter the room with us, instead closing the door and leaving us alone with the man we’d come here to see.

A dark office surrounded us, wooden paneling on the walls, but not that cheap shit you saw in smaller houses. No, this was the real deal, real wood on the walls, built-in bookcases, along with a sleek mahogany desk right in the center of the room, where a man currently sat, intently watching us as we walked in. If he would’ve gotten up, I would’ve shaken his hand, but he didn’t. Markus did not seem like an overly-friendly sort.

His eyes were so dark their color blended in with his pupils. His hair was a pitch-black, a black suit clinging to his body. His shoulders were wide, and I knew he would be a very tall man if he got to his feet. Imposing, impressive, exactly the kind of man you did not want to deal with any more than you had to.

Of course, I wasn’t saying I was scared of him, but almost immediately, he had my respect. Something like that was damn near impossible to do, for most people. Most people these days simply didn’t deserve respect.

He examined me much like I did him, his gaze sizing me up. “You must be RomanRusso,” he said, flicking his eyes to Zoey, who, I’d noticed, had stepped a bit closer to me, as if he made her uncomfortable. “And you must be Zoey Marbella. I’m Markus Scott, but I’m assuming you both knew that already. Welcome. Take a seat.” He gestured to the two leather chairs facing his desk, and Zoey gulped audibly, clearly not wanting to sit before him.

We were on his turf now, in his house. Sitting was the least we could do. I met eyes with her, giving her a short nod, and though Zoey did not want to, she moved around the rightmost chair and sat down, not saying a single word.

I, on the other hand, said, “Thank you for having us here.” I sat down, holding his stare with my own. “I can imagine you don’t often let strangers here. It is an impressive house. You must have quite the fortune stashed away.”

Markus’s lips curled into something that was damn close to a smile, but not quite. I doubted the man ever gave real smiles—much like me. “You should see the basement. It’s where all the fun is had.” His words held a meaning I could not explain, and yet, deep down, I knew. I might not know the details, but I knew enough.

Their money was not had through legal channels either, much like mine. I could only imagine the scale of their work, if it could keep a property like this afloat.

“But enough small talk. I’ve never been a fan of it.” Markus reached for a manila folder on his desk, pulling it in front of him and opening it. “I was able to get Zoey into Hillcrest for the semester starting next week, and I pulled Willow Marbella’s schedule.” He took out a piece of paper, sliding it over toward Zoey, who leaned forward and took it off his desk to study it. “I hope you don’t mind, but I got you into a few of her classes.”

“No,” Zoey whispered. “That’s… that’s perfect, actually. Thank you.”

“From what I understand, you did go to Hillcrest University before, did you not?”

She nodded, tossing me a look, probably wondering how much of her story I’d told him. Not much. Actually, I only mentioned that we’d need an in to the university, not anything about her sister or her family or anything of the sort. All of the info he had was info he’d gotten on his own. Impressive.

“Good, so none of the classes should be too difficult for you.” Markus paused, closing the folder and sliding it toward me.

I took it off the end of his desk, flipping through it quickly. I found pictures of her family, of her sister, of a boy with her sister, smiling and laughing. At the end I found what must be a schedule of some sort. All useful things to have, but all I could think was: damn, this guy was good. Imagine the empire the Lucianos could’ve built if they would’ve forged a closer bond to this family.

A pity.

“I looked into the Marbellas around Hillcrest,” Markus went on. “They are quite alive in their community. They go to every party they can, most are by invitation only, but if you let me know which ones you need into, I’m certain I can get you in. Most families around here can either be bought or… well, reminded what they owe us.”

“Wow,” Zoey said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“I am doing this because Roman is a close friend to Richard. My family and the Lucianos go back.” Markus stopped, his jaw grinding as his eyes fell to the hands on his desk. He weaved his fingers together. “But there is a more… selfish reason for this, I suppose. Once you finish what you must do, you will do something for me.”

It was not spoken as a question. It was a demand, and I instantly prickled, not particularly liking the fact that Markus would make demands of Zoey, especially when I was right here. It pissed me off. The only one who could make demands of this girl was me, not Markus fucking Scott.

Zoey didn’t seem to notice my seething attitude, for she went on, “What will I have to do?”

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