“He, uh, left.”
She wore tight black yoga pants and a complicated workout top that left her back totally bare.
“My Pilates class is around the corner and I had to drop something off for Alex to bring back for my dad.” She pulled a thick black binder out of her tote bag and set it on the couch. It was engraved with the words “Ambrose Capital, Inc.” She eyed the neat stacks of my new clothing and shoes on the coffee table. She looked up at me. “You told me you had separate rooms.”
I swallowed hard and pressed my shoulders back defiantly. “We do. All they had left was a suite, but it has two bedrooms. Would you like a tour?”
It was none of her business. And she was hardly someone to judge me.
She looked around the room. “When will he be back? I was hoping to catch him and say goodbye.”
“He said he had some work stuff to do. We’re leaving for the airport soon.” Oh please don’t wait here for him, oh please oh please.
She looked me up and down. “The clothes work out okay?”
“Yep. Love my new stuff, thanks again for your help. I’d never have been able to buy overpriced jeans on my own.” I crossed my arms and hoped she’d take the hint and leave. She ignored me and roamed the room like she was inspecting it for dust. She stopped by the door to my room. “Mind if I use the bathroom?”
“Go right ahead.”
She surprised me by crossing the room and walking into Alexander’s bedroom instead. I waited nervously for her to come out and busied myself packing a suitcase.
“Oh, Lana?” She’d slipped out so quietly I hadn’t heard her. Her lips stretched into a thin smile as she approached me. A small panic alarm went off in my brain. “This yours? I found it in his room.” She tossed me a ball of dark green fabric. It was my dress from dinner the night before.
My heart stopped but I smiled and laughed. “Oh, there it is! Thanks, I was looking everywhere for that!”
She came closer until I could smell her. Floral perfume and cigarettes. Her bright blue eyes narrowed and the hairs at the back of my neck pinged to attention. “You guys almost had me fooled.”
“Gretchen, wait—”
Her eyes got cold and her nostrils flared. “I knew it. The second I saw you look at him I knew you’d fallen for his schtick.” My mouth gaped open and my heart bet so fast I couldn’t breathe. “No wonder he couldn’t be mad at you after you totaled his mother’s Aston Martin.”
I threw my shoulders back. “It’s his, she gave it to him.”
She shook her head and her upper lip flared out from her teeth in a way that made her look slightly deranged. “I’m telling you this for your own good. As of yesterday, you’re legally an Ambrose. Any romantic feelings between the two of you is not okay. It will only destroy my family—especially my father. He can’t go through that again.”
I froze in horror at her words. What did she mean?
She crossed her arms in front of her and cackled unattractively. “Did you actually think a guy like Alexander was going to choose you? Have you even seen my friend Bree? Why would he risk everything so he could bang his drab little teenage cousin?” She shook her head furiously. “Nope. I call bullshit, sorry.”
Drab? Was that the best she could do? I’d dealt with personal insults for years from various Crawfords. Gretchen was going to have to try harder to scare me. I considered swinging my fist and smashing her right in the mouth, but she was a lot taller than me, and her arms looked pretty buff in her workout gear. I’d fought off a few Russians, but Gretchen looked like she’d put up a real fight.
I stepped away from her and looked around for a lamp big enough to hit her with if she came at me. “You know, if you weren’t his stepsister, I’d think you were jealous.”
Her face went white and her blue eyes flashed with anger.
“You think you know him, little girl, but you don’t. I know Roy told you why he got kicked out of West Point and lost his trust fund.”
“The best people I know don’t have trust funds. And all the worst ones do.”
She opened the mini bar and gathered some of the tiny bottles of alcohol and stashed them in her bag. She twisted one open and downed it in one gulp.
“I’m going to tell you a little secret, Lana. Something I’m sure Alexander didn’t share with you. My father didn’t cut him off because he got caught having sex with some trophy wife in the West Point infirmary. Who was also a former Playmate, in case you were thinking he had low standards.” She stepped towards me and I took a step back. “Not even Roy knows what I’m about to tell you.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care, Gretchen. Just go away. Please.” I couldn’t breathe. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was smashing a hole through my chest.
She smiled a thin, bitter smile. “My father disowned him before that, actually. When my lovely stepmother caught him in bed with a slightly older woman. He was sixteen.” She giggled and stepped closer. “Guess who?”
She crossed her arms and waggled her eyebrows at me. The blood stopped pumping through my body and I put my hand on the TV console to steady myself. I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut. It couldn’t be. The carpet felt like it was sinking under my feet, like the floor was dissolving and I would slide through it into the room underneath.
“It probably sounds terrible to naïve young girls like you. You have to understand—the way I was raised, in an ashram, there were no rules. It was total freedom. Soren and I never saw Alexander growing up—our mother had full custody of us. When she moved back to Europe, I joined my dad and Helen at the Hotel du Cap one summer. I hadn’t seen Alex since he was little, since I’d never really gotten along with his mother. I went straight to the beach when I got there and a boy came up to me. I didn’t recognize him—I hadn’t seen him since he was little. But he already knew how to talk to girls. It was only after I kissed him in one of the sea caves that I realized who he was. And then, well . . . it was too late to stop.” She smiled like she was remembering some wonderful memories. “Alexander was never like a stepbrother to me—he was just a boy.”
“How old were you?” I asked in a breathless whisper.
“Twenty-five. But I looked young. Younger than my age.”
“So what you’re saying is, you’re a child molester.”
She rolled her eyes. “He was sixteen, not five, Lana. But I knew how closed-minded people raised like you were can be. And like you, I wanted to keep it a secret. And it was our secret for a few months. When Helen found us together over Christmas in the Bahamas, she told my father. Of course she blamed me for the whole thing. My dad felt differently. It almost broke up their marriage, which I would have preferred. As punishment, he cut Alex off. That’s why he had to go to West Point, since it’s free. My dad refused to pay his tuition for Princeton, which is where he was supposed to go.”
I couldn’t breathe. “Why are you telling me all this?” My voice was a stunned whisper. I could barely form words.
“Because I still care about him! If my father finds out Alexander is fucking another young female he is technically related to, first he’ll fire him, and then he’ll cut him off—again. He’ll be dead to the rest of the Ambrose family—and broke. Do you want that to happen to him? He’s already on his last chance.”
My mother had run from the Ambrose family. Changed her name, hid from them, rejected their money. I was starting to understand why.
“I’m also telling you as your friend.”
I almost choked. “Oh, you’re my friend now?”
She nodded in a patronizing way and looked at me like I was a lost little kid. “Don’t you see? Alexander doesn’t love you, Lana. He can’t love anyone.” A cloud of sadness flitted across her face and the brightness in her eyes dimmed. I saw her for what she was—a lonely woman who’d experienced true happiness once, but at the expense of a young teenage boy’s soul.
“You’re wrong,” I said. My throat was dry and I wiped the tears welling up in my eye
s.
“He’s addicted to the thrill of the forbidden.” She smirked. “And he loves to piss off my father. In your case, he’s willing to burn my father for a bigger prize. You’re his golden ticket, Lana.”
“Nothing is going on between us. NOTHING!” As of the previous night, this was technically 100% true. “You need to leave. Now.” I fought back tears. “You don’t know him at all—you just think you do. He’s not like that. Not anymore.” I felt like I was going to throw up.
She slung her bag over her arm. “I’m not doing this to hurt you, Lana. But trust me—he wants his hands on your inheritance. The fact that you’re an Ambrose just makes his revenge that much sweeter.”
She looked at herself in the mirror, adjusted her hair, and pulled some lip gloss out of her pants pocket. She smeared it on smacked her lips together.
I wiped my eyes and glared at her. “You need to leave.”
“Fine. But listen to me, Lana: go home alone. If you can’t leave Alexander alone, you’ll only be setting yourself—and him—up for disaster.” She opened the door and waved. “See you at the wedding! You’re still expected to come, of course.”
She left and I collapsed on the couch and sobbed.
He was a victim of his stepfamily.
Just like me.
Maybe that’s why he liked me. Why he’d risked his life to find me and get me to New York. But I couldn’t be the reason his family disowned him again. Being with me would cost him his relationship with his parents, his job, and his reputation—everything he’d rebuilt.
If I truly loved him, I had to put his best interests before mine.
I’d have to do the last thing in the world I wanted to do.
#
“What color is your house on Chauvet Drive, Miss?”
“Dingy white. There are rose bushes in front.” At least there used to be, before Victor’s thugs torched the house.
The JetBlue lady nodded and kept typing. The check-in line behind me grew longer with impatient passengers.
The woman squinted at her screen. “I see a Volkswagen Golf parked in the driveway. What color is it?”
“Are you looking at Google maps?”
“Yes. When a passenger forgets their ID, this is how we confirm their identity.”
“Silver. Dents on the sides.” I rattled off the license plate number for good measure.
She nodded and smiled. “Okay, thank you. Just had to confirm who you were. Hope you find your wallet soon!”
“Me too.” My wallet had gone overboard in the Vanquish.
“Any bags?”
“No, just my purse.” She handed me my boarding pass. I sprinted to the escalator and ran to the gate. I’d found a seat on a flight to Oakland. From there, I’d take a cab to Maya’s house. Then, in the morning, I’d find an Airbnb, or a hotel for me and my dad. Rent a car. Hire a bodyguard. Buy a gun. Figure out how to get half a million dollars in cash to Victor Savitch, wherever he was. Avoid Ramona at all costs.
And find a way to never, ever think about Alexander Ambrose again. I’d never taste his mouth, feel his skin on me again. I curled up in my plush reclining seat and closed my eyes. I was too tired to even enjoy the rare air of flying first-class for the first time.
I woke up half an hour before we landed. The Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge, and the lights of the city twinkled in the early dusk. My fairy tale was officially over—forever.
I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my jacket as the wheels touched down.
I was home.
Chapter 22
Palus Putredinis ~ Marsh of Decay
The handwritten sign read “Miss Lana Goodwin.” I stopped in front of a short, portly man in a black suit and chauffeur’s cap.
“You Lana Goodwin?”
“Who sent you?”
He mopped the sweat trickling down his brow with a white handkerchief and checked a piece of paper in his hand. “Cesar Hidalgo. I’m supposed to take you to an address in Sonoma.” Wow, that was awesome of the Hidalgos. I’d texted Maya from New York to ask her if I could stay with her. “Any bags, Miss?”
I shook my head.
He blinked and jerked his head to the side. “This way, car’s outside.”
I suspected Cesar had splurged on a limo since he knew I was coming home an heiress. The Hidalgos had helped me and my dad so much—and suffered when Victor had the shop inventory repossessed.
I’d make it up to them. Cesar could retire in style. He deserved it.
I turned on my phone and saw a burst of texts from Alexander.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Home. You can send my clothes to my dad’s house. I’ll send you a check for the cost of the road trip.
WHAT DID I DO?
Nothing.
Gretchen talked to you!
I have to go.
I’M LANDING AT SFO IN FOUR HOURS. TELL ME WHERE YOU ARE!!
My heart ached, heavy with longing for him. But I had to keep my distance—for his own good.
I can’t. I’m sorry. You’re done—go back to your life. Thank you for everything.
FUCK THAT! I AM COMING TO GET YOU.
I gritted my teeth. It was going to be almost impossible to push him away. It was like pulling my own heart out of my chest and tossing it in the trash.
But I had no choice. I’d known all along it would come to this. I would never really know if he liked me or the thrill of the forbidden. Gretchen’s words had turned my insecurities into a raging army of doubts.
I turned off my phone and slid it into my back pocket. Across the bay, the sun was setting in a gorgeous summer symphony of clouds and light. I turned away from the view and let the tears slide down my face.
We crossed the bay and drove up the Marin peninsula. Almost home. I leaned my head back on the leather seat and closed my eyes. When the limo slowed down, I looked out the window and realized the city was in front of us.
It should have been behind us.
We were heading south instead of north.
“Ah, excuse me, Sir? I think we’re going the wrong way. We needed to stay on the 101 north, to Sonoma.”
He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. A tendril of fear curled up my neck.
Everything is fine. You’re just nervous to be home. You’re jet lagged and exhausted.
“Sorry, Miss. My phone died. I need to check in with my dispatcher.”
“I have a phone, I can direct you to where I’m going.”
“Will only take a minute.”
I sat back, annoyed. The driver pulled off the 101 and stopped at a tiny gas station that had no lights on. When he got out, I sighed and pulled out my phone to text Maya.
Limo driver got lost, will be at your house soon. He said your dad sent him to get me—tell him thank you!!
I saw three dots as she typed back.
My dad’s been in Mexico all week. What limo? Where are you?
OH SHIT.
Everything cranked into slow motion as adrenaline crashed through my body. I grabbed my bag, dialed 911, and pushed the nearest door open. A figure stepped out of the darkness and caught the door before I could yank it closed again. I scrambled to the other side of the limo but a second figure loomed just outside it.
I didn’t bother screaming. I retreated to the back of the limo, slid the phone’s volume to silence, and tucked it into my boot.
Both figures climbed into the limo and pulled the doors shut. I scrambled to get as far away from them as I could. A third, much shorter man in a chauffeur cap—not the original driver—slid into the driver’s seat.
I smelled heavy cologne and cigarettes and powerful BO.
The doors locked and the engine started. The limo screeched away from the gas station and sped back onto the road.
The two men sat across from me. I didn’t recognize either one, but they definitely looked like they knew Victor Savitch. One of them was overweight and had a gray goatee and a buzz-cut. He wore a black blazer, black baggy trousers a
nd a black t-shirt with a deep v-neck. The other was younger, clean shaven, and sported a shiny black puffy coat, skintight jeans and flashy high-top sneakers. He grinned at me like the Cheshire Cat.
I pushed my terror down and pretended to be calm. They wouldn’t kill me—because then Victor wouldn’t get his money. If they wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead.
“Hey, guys! Where are we going?” I asked.
The men exchanged a glance. The older one said, “Is surprise.” He had a thick Slavic accent.
I looked at the younger one. “Are you Arkady’s little brother, or Sergei’s?”
He reacted like I’d slapped him. He spat and spoke rapid-fire Russian to the other guy.
The older one spoke again. “I am Markov. This is Evgeny. We work for Victor Savitch. We take you to him.”
How had they known which flight I took? I thought back—Ramona had been in New York. I hadn’t told anyone my flight number except Maya. I hadn’t even told my dad I was coming home. They must have followed me from New York.
“You know, Comrades, I’m really glad you showed up. I happen to have Victor’s money with me, and I didn’t have any idea how to find him.”
The young one looked confused.
“You have it?”
I nodded. “When will we be there?” I squirmed on the seat—my cell phone was cold and heavy against my ankle.
“Soon.”
The limo sped south along the waterfront. When I realized where we were headed, the fear took over. Victor had asked me to meet him at a marina in Sausalito the morning after my graduation, to board his boat.
If I got on a boat, no one would be able to track my phone’s location. He could take me anywhere.
If I got on a boat, I’d never get off alive.
The limo pulled off the road fifteen tense minutes later. The tiny marina boasted a handful of huge white yachts that bobbed up and down.
I just needed thirty seconds in private to text Maya, let her know where I was, and tell her to call the cops. Just thirty seconds.
But they both watched me with beady eyes and expressionless faces.
Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2) Page 20
