I swallowed. “Yes.”
I got in, my mind still whirling with questions—so many questions about Declan Dark.
The more I saw him, the more of a mystery he became to me. The more I swore he had secrets he didn’t want the rest of the world to know.
“I’ll toss in an extra ten bucks if you can get me home in thirty minutes,” I told the Uber driver.
He glanced over his shoulder with a grin. “Challenge accepted.”
Chapter 6
Xander had moved his computer setup to the kitchen table while I cooked spaghetti for dinner.
“Why are you Martha Stewart all of the sudden?” he asked, lifting his gaze to look at me over his computer screen.
I continued to chop onions for the sauce. “What? Martha Stewart?”
“Since when are you culinarily inclined? Or is this part of the new Samantha Thompson persona?”
I angled my head. “Good. That’s good. I need to think up a few things to make myself seem more like…a human.”
“As opposed to a robot?” Xander asked.
I pressed the button on the speaker to turn up the music he had playing in the background. “Yes. That’s exactly what Samantha is right now,” I told him, moving to the music. “She’s a robot. She’s a creation. We need her to be real.”
“Okay. Well, we know she loves nature. All her Instagram posts are of the outdoors.”
“You didn’t get those from my actual Instagram, right? I mean—”
“Seriously, Ro?” Xander drank the rest of the wine in his glass, looking offended. “You think I’d pull some amateur shit like that? If I recall correctly, I’m the tech genius, not you. I know your pics can be traced back to your real account and if I didn’t, I’d be an idiot, still living in my mother’s basement and pretending I wasn’t gay because I was afraid of incurring the wrath of God.”
I snorted and walked around the table to fill his wine glass. “I apologize. You’re a genius and I love you without the wrath of God on you.” I put my arm around him and looked at the computer screen. “What are you doing now?”
“Making sure your calls are being forwarded to your Samantha Thompson phone number.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“The number I had to input in order to set up your interview—your first interview—at Dark Enterprises. Made it look more legit.” He lifted my phone. “And now, those calls are going to be forward to your real cell phone so you don’t have to carry around two phones like a weirdo.”
“I have to give it to you,” I admitted to him. “You really are a genius. Do you think anyone is actually going to call my fake number, though?”
“Thank you,” Xander said when I slid his full wine glass in his direction. He took a sip and then nodded. “If they need to verify any information. I mean, they’re paying you, so they’re going to need a certain amount of personal information—all of which is written down right here.” He set down my phone and pointed to a notecard. “Memorize it. And don’t forget to post a few things on Instagram each week.”
“Like one social media account isn’t enough,” I mumbled, walking back to the island and picking up the knife. “Now I have to have two?”
“Sweetheart, I have three. And that’s just Instagram.”
“What else is there?”
His jaw dropped and he started at me like I’d grown another head.
I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. “I mean, I know there’re other social media platforms. But what else do you need, really?”
“Reddit, YouTube, Twitch—”
I snickered. “Sounds dirty.”
“You’re dirty,” Xander said in response.
With a grin, I said, “Now who sounds like they still live in their mom’s basement?”
“All right,” Xander said, changing the subject. “You’re all set. Samantha Thompson, welcome to the world.”
I dumped the onions in the spaghetti sauce and tested a noodle. Almost done.
Then I bent to check the garlic bread. This meal was one of the only meals my dad and I had been able to manage after my mom’s death. Both of us were hopeless chefs but decent at preparing spaghetti. It was one of the few dishes you couldn’t fuck up.
And since I needed to feel a little closer to my dad right now, this was the way to do it.
“I still can’t believe Declan was at the hospital,” I told Xander.
“Me either. You really couldn’t hear anything he was saying?”
I shook my head, shivering when I thought of his low voice. “He’s like a ninja. Quiet. Everywhere I am. It’s creepy.”
“Sounds sexy to me.” He shrugged when I frowned. “What? In the movies, the bad guys are sexy sometimes—at least the rich ones.”
“So you think he’s the bad guy?”
“You do. And that’s enough for me.”
I sighed and sipped my wine while I waited the last two minutes for the bread to be done. “I don’t want him to be the bad guy. I just don’t…” I shrugged. “I don’t know where else to start and I…”
I thought of my dad laying in the hospital bed, looking tiny and helpless and I wanted someone to blame it on. I wanted one person to be responsible for all of it so I could get answers quickly and easily.
“You’re doing what you have to,” Xander said, summing it up for me. “It makes sense. And I know you. It’ll keep you busy. Better than sitting around and waiting for—”
He broke off and picked up his wine for another sip.
Better than waiting for my dad to wake up was what he was going to say. And he was right. It was better.
The timer dinged, jerking me from my thoughts. I put a smile on my face. “Get ready for the best Italian you’ve
