“But you gave out her room number for that money in your hand?”
His mouth opens and closes like a fish’s.
I lean in over the counter until our faces are close. My words are soft as I grip the counter. “Name. Now. Or I’ll come behind that desk and make you regret it.”
He goes white and practically jumps at his computer, eyeing me as he types away. “Um, it’s Emmaline Darling. Do you want her home address?”
I nod, and he scribbles it down and hands it to me.
“My car was stolen from your parking lot. Did you see anything?”
He frowns. “I saw a girl running. She had blonde hair.”
I glance out the window, a part of me hoping my car will magically appear. I see that Kian has sat down outside Emmy’s door, while the girl paces back and forth in front of him. It looks as if he doesn’t plan on going anywhere for a while.
I smirk. Sorry, Kian. She’s in my ride.
“When the cops show up, put us in an empty room on the first floor. I don’t want anyone knowing my business.”
“Yes, sir.”
I glance down at the paper he gave me, and her name jumps out at me. Emmaline Darling. I heard the clerk say it, but it didn’t click until now with what my brother said.
Jeez, what’s her name? It starts with an E . . . Esme? No, wait, I’ve got it—Emmaline Darling.
Emmaline. Emmy. Of course.
I dial Brody, who answers on the first ring. “What’s up with your car?”
“Forget that. What was the name of the girl you mentioned, the one I need to meet?”
“Emmaline Darling. Pretty. Nice boobs—not a D cup, but who needs mountains when you can have gentle rolling hills—and long legs. Will look fantastic in Vera Wang.”
“She stole my car.”
He gasps. “What? No way. That’s a crazy coincidence. Impossible. Plus, she’s a sweetie.”
“And a thief.”
He sputters: “Are you sure?”
“I have her name right in front of me.”
A groan of disappointment comes from him. “But I already had a Pinterest board going for her—”
I cut him off as I pace, chopping the air with my hands. “She’s the one. She’s my fake wife.”
“What? How? Wait, is she the one who pulled you into her room? Did you have sex with her? Are you still in the ‘pussy glow’？”
“Hardly. What matters is she owes me.”
“Um, not seeing it. She’s a thief. Why would—”
“Let me handle it. I gotta go. Bye.”
“Graham, wait—”
I hang up and watch the cops pull up.
Gotcha, Miss Darling.
Chapter 4
EMMY
It’s barely seven in the morning when the wailing starts. Dragging myself out of bed, I rub my eyes and pad out into the hall. I pass Jane’s room and peek in. Snoring softly, my sister has a sleep mask on, ear plugs in her ears.
In the next room, Andrew stirs and stretches his arms. “Better get her before she wakes up the whole neighborhood,” he says with a crooked smile.
“I will. You have an early class?” I ask, lingering at his door as I tug my robe around my sleep shorts and shirt.
He scrubs his jaw. “Meeting a girl at the library. She’s been taking notes in philosophy. I haven’t.”
“Hey, NYU isn’t cheap.” His tuition （sixty thousand a year） weighs heavily on my shoulders. “Keep those grades up.”
“All right, Ma. I promise.”
“Not your mama.” I cross my arms and pretend to glower. “But I am your elder by eight years.”
Wearing pajama pants, he’s chuckling under his breath as he gives me a jaunty wave and disappears into his bathroom, then pokes his head back out. His mahogany curls frame an angelic face with dimples. He looks exactly like our dad, yet they have completely different personalities. “If Kian shows up, call me.”
I groan. He says it every morning, as if I’ll forget. “Don’t worry about that. Besides, the building has been warned.” All twenty-five residents. I went door to door to make sure everyone knows to never open the door for him. “No one will buzz him in.”
He glances at my throat, nose flaring. The bruises have faded, but it’s as if he’s picturing them the day I came home, over a week ago. I’ve since blocked Kian’s number, and he’s only shown up once. Through the speaker box, I threatened to call the police, and that did the trick. The last thing he needs is bad press.