Page 14 of Queen Of Dark Money

Hescoffed again, a sound that was becoming pretty popular with him. “Idon’t see it.”

Iblinked slowly, trying to put together what he meant. “Idon’t follow.”

“Yourlooks.Idon’t see the resemblance.”

Okay, so this was getting weirder by the second.Wewere identical twins.“I, uh,I’msorry?”

Thereit was again, that scoff.Itmust be his trademark, with how often he used it. “Hisfuneral.I’mjust hired help.”

Thedoors opened on the twenty-eighth floor, andIgasped as we stepped forward and came face-to-face with yet another elevator, this one requiring a key of some sort to even call down to pick us up.Withmy bag clutched in his meaty hand, he used the other one to reach into his coat and pull out a key on a lanyard that somehow managed to look super professional.Witha flick of his wrist, he slipped it into a hidden keyhole, and the doors slid open on an elevator car studded in chrome and decked out with mirrors that were so shiny and reflective thatIfelt immediately judged.Aperson could stand in the center of that car and have every single one of their faults pointed out and magnified for them.

Iwas not down with that.

Notat all.

Ittook off upward, slowly crawling the extra few floors to the top, or whatIimagined was damn close.Ididn’t know how it knew where it was going–there were no floor buttons, no options, no dials to press or turn or whatever.Itmust’ve been the key that somehow signaled where to take us.Whenit slid to a stop, the doors opened onto a short foyer which led to a single, reinforced, opulent door with a single peephole and a fucking doorman.

Adoorman, after all that shit, felt redundant.AndthenIspotted the second guy along the far wall, dressed in tactical gear, holding what looked like a fucking sniper rifle, and my whole world turned on its head.

Whatthe fuck hadIgotten myself into?

“What’swithRamboin the corner?”Ijoked at the driver, who seemed very much not interested in answering me now that we were in the presence ofMisterBeefyhimself.Ishot the tactical terror a mock salute and grinned in his direction, waiting for the doorman to swing the fucking barrier between me and my new temporary life inward on what had to be the fuckingFortKnoxof penthouse suites.

Andholy fuck, it did not disappoint.

Wallsthat shined with sharp neutral colors and vibrant accent flashes, chrome-plated picture frames, fancy art deco sculptures, and not a hint of a personality beyond price tags and pretty, shiny shit.Eventhe fucking floor was marble, and my boots squeaked across the tiles asIfollowedMisterGrouchdriver through the entryway into what could only be described as a fucking entertaining room.Itcertainly wasn’t a living room likeI’dever seen.Hell, you could fit mine andMom’swhole apartment in this one room.

Whatthe fuck kind of people waste this kind of money on a house they don’t even really live in?Andit wasn’t even a house.Itwas a fucking apartment in a high-rise hotel, where you couldn’t really have pets, and you couldn’t touch grass without a twenty-floor elevator ride.Whereyour every need was accommodated by people who scurried in fear at the sight of you.

Ihad to pretend to be one of these people?

Thisjob was starting to become more trouble than it was worth.Ifnot forMom’smedical bills,I’dbe gone in a heartbeat.

Maybetwo.

“Fuckme, man, this is a hell of a place you got here, buddy.”Iknew the driver didn’t own the place, butIstill wanted to piss him off as much as possible beforeIhad to face anyone else. “Where’smy room?”

“You’llbe staying in our guest quarters for now,” an ominous voiceI’donly ever heard onTVand through a phone echoed out, the saccharine sweetness of it a surefire marker of the man’s hidden venom. “Isee you made it here in one piece.Youdidn’t cover yourself adequately, though.I’vealready heard my daughter is back after a very brief absence.”

Ishrugged, flopping down on the overly starched-looking leather couch nearby. “Imean, technically,Iamyour daughter.Andmy absence has been more than brief.But, sure, what’s up, pops?”

Hestared down at myConverse-clad feet as they draped over the side of his armrest, kicking likeIwas a recalcitrant five-year-old throwing a temper tantrum.Icould practically see the disdain in his eyes, swirling with disgust and regret.Whetherit was regret for having me or regret for inviting me here,Iwasn’t sure.

Itwas probably both.

“Doyou know how to sit in a seat like a civilized being?” he snarled, shoving my legs over the arm and to the floor. “I’mnot so sure you’re going to be able to pull off acting like my legitimate daughter.”

Irolled my eyes. “Youknow,Ikind ofamyour legitimate daughter.DNAsays so.”

“Youare not mine, and you never will be.You’rejust a conveniently similar-looking girl who has graciously accepted the terms of my employment as a body double.Nothingmore than hired help.Andit’s best you not forget that.”

Mynose scrunched up in a grimace at his words. “Gotit.”Iwasn’t thrilled about the arrangement or how it was starting, butthere wasn’t muchIcould do about it. “Sowhen doImeet my sister?IassumeI’llneed a crash course in how to be her–”

“Youwon’t be meeting her,” he said dismissively, striding over to the nearby wet bar.Hishands were steady and practiced as he lifted the crystal decanter of who knew what kind of liquor and poured himself a glass. “You’llbe able to ask me anything you need, and there’s footage of our last few eventsI’vehadAnniepull for you to review.”

Asif summoned by the sound of her name alone, a mousy brunette who could only be the woman that disembodied voice on the other end of my phone belonged to—Annie, his assistant—rushed in, her prim knee-length black pencil skirt and button-down white shirt the quintessential assistant uniform that made me thankfulInever pursued that line of employment.Sheshoved glasses too big for her face back up her nose and sniffed inelegantly at my attire while staring down at me.

“Oh, hello.Youmust beKenzie–” she offered me her hand, whichIaccepted hesitantly. “Youcan call meAnnie.I’llbe helping you get acclimated while you’re in residence and under the employ ofMr.Sinclair.”Shetwisted me around in a pirouette and studied me for a moment asIspun, her calculating eyes boring holes into all the places on my bodyIwas less than proud of. “Ithink the wardrobeIsourced for you should fit wonderfully.Andthough you’re a bit, ahem,heavierthanMissSinclair,Ithink you’re close enough that most people won’t notice the glaring differences.”

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