Chapter 89

I watch Marcus as he stares after his father disappearing into the night.

My whole body aches, and I realize I haven’t relaxed since we reached the marina and found the paparazzi camped at the entrance. In fact, I haven’t relaxed since we left Charles’s office. Since we got back from Santa Fe. Since the police told us Reed had been murdered.

Now only a few hours remain until Marcus walks through the doors of the Beverly Hills Police Department, and I’m terrified he won’t walk back out.

Maybe I should be grateful to Jeremiah—and to the vultures in the press. For at least a few minutes I haven’t been afraid. I’ve just been angry. At the paparazzi. At Jeremiah. At my father.

Deep breath. I don’t want to think about any of those men right now. I just want to be with Marcus, but he keeps his back to me, his eyes fixed on the now-empty dock.

“Marcus?” I say, hesitating over his name.

He turns, and though the anger has mostly left his face, I still see s