Page 84 of Burning Daylight

“Call me later if you want to kick it,” Merrick says. “You’ll need friends around here…ones you can trust.”

I jerk my chin, and then they’re off, and my heart starts pounding against my chest as I flip around to stare at the Calloway estate.

Keep to the perimeter…and it leads straight to Juliette’s balcony.

20

JULIETTE

Roman Montgomery may not be dead, but he’s dead to me.

That’s probably dramatic, but it’s the only thought on my mind as I pace the length of the table in our formal dining hall.

Laughter floats in from the people tipsy off champagne and still schmoozing out back, but their joy doesn’t come close to affecting me. My heels—the ones I’ve since put back on my feet—are the only other noise.

Although, my brother Alex’s silent judgmentfeelsloud.

Click-clack.

Click-clack.

Click-clack.

I don’t even know what I’m so upset about. It’s not like Ryder—no,Roman—and I really knew each other or owed one another anything.

But the second that thought crosses my mind, I know it’s not entirely true. I was open with him in a way I’m not with other people. There was a freedom there, because he didn’t know anything about me or who I was supposed to be.

But he knew the whole time.

Maybe he was using me.

But for what? To be cruel?

As a gotcha moment for my family? What could he possibly accomplish with that?

The more I think about it, the less it makes sense. I was the one who sought him out, at least after the first couple of times running into him. And it isn’t likehesent the art tickets to Felicity.

Confusion spirals through me like I’m free-falling from a cliff, and I can’t tell which way is up.

Alex is the only other person in here with me, after rushing after me when I stormed through the front door.

He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, because he was the only one of us that wasn’t out there.

“Why are you standing there like a creeper?” I snap, needing an outlet for my anger.

He frowns and then scoffs, moving to the chair at the end of the table, dramatically pulling it out and plopping down in it. “There. Happy?”

I give him a sarcastic smile. “Thrilled.”

“Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

I stop pacing, giving him a look. “Why does there have to be something wrong?”

“Yeah.” He puts his feet up on the table, crossing his ankles and leaning back in the chair. “You’re really calm and put together right now. My mistake.”

A grin pulls at my lips, and I shake my head, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

He smiles, and it’s so similar to our mother that it’s physically painful to look at.