by Alyssa Drake
“How did you do that?” exclaimed Eliza. She stared at her in astonishment as Frankie rose gracefully.
“I scaled the balcony.” She replied simply, as though it were a common occurrence, and leaned over to wipe the knife blade on Joe’s shirt.
“Frankie works for my father, as Sabrina’s bodyguard,” said Nate. His hands lightly stroked over Eliza’s face; she winced as he brushed over the bruise on her cheek.
“I thought she and Sabrina were…”
“Lovers?” interrupted Frankie.
Eliza blushed and nodded.
“I may have mixed business with pleasure.”
“However, that doesn’t make Frankie any less talented at her job,” announced Mr. Maldove from the doorway. “Ah, Joe.” He shook his head as his eyes fell on Joe’s motionless body. “I was afraid it would be you.”
Mr. Maldove’s solemn gaze rose to Eliza. “You won’t ever have to fear him again.”
She nodded, extracting herself from Nate’s arms, and approached Mr. Maldove. “I have the photographs.” Eliza glanced down, sinking her teeth into her lip. “I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, so, I tricked Nate into hiding them in his safe, but I want you to have them, Mr. Maldove.”
“Please, call me Colin.” He grasped Eliza’s hands tightly, lifting them to his lips. “Thank you for your bravery. Your parents would be extremely proud of you. I hope you’ll consider extending your stay with us. There are some important financial matters I need to discuss with you, including the distribution of your parents’ will.”
“Will?” Eliza asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Your father invested quite a generous sum of money in the firm. Your share was due to you upon verification of your parents’ demise.”
“What are you saying?” Eliza swallowed, the roar of the ocean rushing in her ears.
“Well, you’ll never have to wait tables again.” His eyes flicked over the body in the center of the floor and rose to his oldest son. “Everett.”
“I’ll take care of it,” replied Everett with a nod, vanishing out the door.
“Frankie.”
“Yes, Sir.” She saluted Mr. Maldove and disappeared after Everett.
“Eliza, I expect staying in this room after all this”—he paused, searching for the word—“excitement, would be a bit distressing for you. May I suggest moving your clothing into the room next door?”
“But isn’t that Nate’s room?” asked Eliza, her head whipping to Nate.
“Is it?” Mr. Maldove raised an innocent eyebrow and withdrew from the room.
“You don’t have to stay with me.” Nate’s quiet tone held no emotion. He scooped her clothing from the closet in one sweeping motion and stepped into the hallway. Unlocking his door, he bumped it open with his hip and glanced over his shoulder. “I have no problem switching rooms.”
Eliza trailed behind him, allowing the door to click shut. “And if I need you, I can just knock three times on the wall?”
“Yes.”
Eliza walked over to the shared wall and slowly raised her fist. Deliberately, she knocked on the wall. Once… twice… three times. She locked eyes with him. “I feel safer with you.”
“Does that mean you’re planning to stick around?”
“Indefinitely.” She smiled and winced. Her fingers gently probed the bruise blossoming on her cheek. “Nate, do you think Sabrina would mind if I bowed out of the auction? In the state I’m in, I doubt anyone would pay to spend time with me.”
Nate wrapped her in his arms, his lips brushing along the edges of the contusion. “You are under no obligation to participate, especially after the ordeal you just faced.”
“Thank you.” Eliza sighed, leaning into his embrace.
“However, I will be heartbroken to miss out on a date with someone as lovely as you, especially since I promised you a day of meaningless sex.”
Eliza flushed, her mind flashed back to the memory of Nate, thrusting himself into her again and again. Her stomach clenched, heat rising in her cheeks.
“What are you thinking about?” Nate’s lips inched dangerously close to her earlobe.
“My dress is ruined.”
“Well, I suppose we should remove it then.” He licked his lips, wolfishly. “I think you should also decline my father’s request to join him for lunch.”
“Why?” asked Eliza. Her stomach flipped over, anticipation bubbling in her veins.
“You’re going to be otherwise occupied for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“However long you let me.”
“And after we dock?”
“You are free to leave whenever you wish. However, I hope I’ve persuaded you otherwise.”
A wicked grin pulled at Eliza’s mouth. “I might need some more convincing.”
Nate laughed. “You know, from the moment you threw me off my bed—”
“Hey, I didn’t throw you,” protested Eliza.
“Fine,” Nate acquiesced. “From the moment you hijacked my bed, I’ve been drawn to you, needed to be near you, to touch you. You’ve transformed me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not even sure what to call that.”
“Love at first sight?” suggested Eliza.
“Possibly,” agreed Nate. “Does that mean we live happily ever after?”
“I believe so,” smiled Eliza, pressing her lips to his mouth.
The End
* * *
Thank you for reading Harbor of Secrets. If you enjoyed the spicy love story of Eliza and Nate, please consider leaving a review wherever you purchased the story, it really does make a difference. If you are interested in hearing about new releases, behind-the-scenes author secrets, sales, and giveaways, sign up for my newsletter. Now, I invite you to continue the adventure with a preview of the first spicy romantic suspense story in the Damsels Defeating Distress series, FORTRESS OF DESIRE.
* * *
♥Alyssa
Fortress of Desire
Chapter One
“Miss Lyon, you have to leave the stage.” The light shining in her eyes cut off, Lily plunged into darkness. Opening night, her night, her chance, gone with the flick of a switch. Stolen, along with the entire budget for the show.
She trudged toward the wings, snagging a frayed red backpack from the floor and flinging it over one shoulder. Pushing out the stage door, she took one final look over her shoulder and stepped into the alleyway beside the theater. All those wasted months, lost tips. She shook her head. How much did she have left in her bank account? Twelve dollars and fifty-three cents.
The storm, which had been threatening most of the afternoon, chose that exact moment to rain. The dark clouds burst open, drenching Lily within moments. With a heavy sigh, she slogged across the street toward a coffee shop. After a night like this, she’d earned herself a slice of pie. She’d worry about rent tomorrow.
Yanking open the door, Lily stumbled into the waiting area, slipping on the floor. She crashed into the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, wrapping her arms around the small black placard and dragging it to the floor with her. She popped up quickly, heat quickly filling her cheeks, and stood, righting the sign.
With a sheepish grin, she scooted around the sign, drawn to a glass case filled with fresh pies–the best pie in all of New York. She shoved her hand into a small pocket in her backpack, extracting a few crumpled bills. She uncurled them, counting silently. Four dollars, just enough for a slice of pie and a cup of coffee.
“Excuse me, Miss Lyon.” The deep voice interrupted Lily’s reverie as she drooled over the rows of pies. “I am such a fan of your work. May I have your autograph?”
Straightening, Lily spun, her face twisted into a scowl. Her eyes skated over the gentleman standing behind her. “Look, buddy, I think it’s cute you want an autograph from the lead actress in the fastest closing show in history, but I’ve had an extremely rough night. So,
I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your snarky comments to yourself.”
“I thought your performance was good.” He flashed a dazzling smile.
Lily raised a skeptical eyebrow. Her gaze slowly traveled down his deep charcoal suit, tailored exclusively to his impressive frame. A striped tie of complementing shades of scarlet peeped out from between his lapels. The sharp crease in each pant leg–a neatly pressed line–extended to the hem. Shiny, black loafers peeked out from underneath the cloth, which barely kissed the top of the shoes. He looked as though he’d stepped from the pages of a men’s magazine. His light hazel eyes blazed intensely under her scrutiny, causing Lily’s thoughts to divert; her breath hitched as the image of his full lips brushing intimately along her collarbone flickered through her mind. Her eyes rose to his mouth.
He tilted his head, a ghost of a smile dancing across his face. “Are you finished with your inspection?”
“Oh.” Lily reddened, forcing the fantasy from her mind. She ripped her gaze from his lips and rolled her shoulders back, squaring her jaw. “I was trying to decide if you’re friend or foe.”
“And what is your decision?” he replied with a smirk.
“Friend.”
“Does that mean you’ll sign my program?” Mischief lit his eyes.
“Fine,” Lily sighed, deflating, accepting the glossy, folded program. “Do you have a pen?”
“Certainly,” he beamed, reaching inside his coat and extracting a pen. It flashed in the florescent lighting, casting small streaks of muted gold over his hand.
Lily took the pen, twisting it curiously and watching the gold light bounce across the tiled floor. A strange red symbol engraved on the stem of the pen intrigued her, but she said nothing. She laid the paper against the glass case and glanced back. “Who shall I make it out to?”
“Jareth.”
“To Jareth,” murmured Lily. “Thank you for your kind support, keep slaying dragons. With love, Lily.” She signed with a flourish and handed back the program.
“Thank you.” Jareth inspected the paper. He glanced up with a grin. “I shall cherish this always.”
“That’s really sweet, but I’m not a famous actress.”
“I know,” he replied, leaning in with a wink, “however, you are one of my favorites.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
“No,” he shook his head, a sincere gleam in his eyes. “I’ve seen every single one of your performances online, and when I had an opportunity to come here, I swore I would find a way to meet you in person.”
“Okay,” Lily took one exaggerated step away from him, “now I can’t decide if you’re a fan or a stalker.”
“Tell you what,” Jareth laughed, his deep voice carrying over the subtle clink of silverware, “why don’t I buy you a slice of pie while you figure it out.”
“I love pie,” murmured Lily, her eyes traveling back to the glass case.
“Me, too.”
“Alright,” Lily grinned at him, “if you can guess my favorite pie, I’ll sit down and talk to you.”
“Hmm,” Jareth stroked his chin dramatically. He walked around Lily, his eyes traveling over her body, analyzing the brown leather bustier and peasant skirt, her costume from the canceled play. And the only compensation she would receive from this failed endeavor.
“Cherry,” he determined with a nod.
“Correct!” Lily exclaimed; she narrowed her eyes. “How did you know?”
“Good guess?” He winked, stepping around her. “We’ll have two slices of cherry and two cups of coffee.”
“Heated, please,” added Lily with a small smile.
“Of course,” replied the waitress. “I’ll bring them over in a few moments.” She gestured to an empty booth across from three older men, who leaned together muttering over three half-empty mugs. They glanced furtively at Lily and Jareth in between sips.
“What brings you to my little corner of the world?” asked Lily, shooting a filthy glare at the three men as she slid into the booth. “Is it business or pleasure?”
“Business,” he replied, dropping lightly into the bench across from her.
“How long do you intend to stay in town?”
“As long as it takes to conclude my business.”
“You’re kind of evasive, did you know that?”
“So, I’ve been told.” Jareth laughed again; the warm sound wrapped comfortingly around Lily. “Okay, my turn for questions.”
“Your turn?” Lily’s eyes widened. “Why do you get a turn?”
“Because I wanted to meet you, and you’re still deciding if I’m a stalker,” he paused. “You’re still deciding, right?”
“I am.”
Two slices of cherry pie appeared, discreetly slid onto the Formica tabletop by the waitress who vanished without comment. Lily picked up her fork, pointing the handle at Jareth. “You’re lucky these arrived when they did.” She took a bite, her eyes closing at the sweet, sour taste.
Jareth chuckled.
“Alright, ask,” stated Lily, her eyes still closed. She blindly took another bite.
“Why did the play close at the end of the first act tonight? I thought it was quite good.”
Lily’s eyes opened into slits. “The producer ran off with the funds this afternoon; none of us are getting paid. We discovered the truth halfway through the first act. People just walked out, there was nothing that could be done.” Lily sighed. “At least I didn’t get hit by the sword this time.”
“What sword?”
“In the second act, the dragon uses the prince’s own sword to vanquish him. During dress rehearsal, the sword slipped from the dragon’s mouth and struck me instead.” She lifted her right leg onto the booth’s seat, pulling up her skirt to reveal a long cut across her knee. Jareth’s gaze flicked to the scar.
“I thought the first few minutes were quite riveting.” His eyes returned to her face. Lily glanced up in annoyance, dropping her skirt; Jareth’s eyes sparkled. He was teasing her.
“I was the only one on stage,” she stabbed her fork at him, “and I was topless.”
“I know,” he smiled, the amusement crinkling his eyes. “I enjoyed every moment.”
“Okay, now I am leaning toward stalker.”
“That’s not good,” he frowned. “How can I sway your opinion?”
Lily’s arm snaked out and she stuck her fork through the center of his pie. “You’ll have to bribe me.”
“Deal.” He pushed his untouched plate toward her.
A smiled twitched across Lily’s face. “Alright, question number two.”
“Do you have any other commitments after this play?”
“Nope,” Lily shook her head. “No prospects, no auditions; dead broke.” She took another bite of her pie, muttering. “Can’t wait to spend my winter holed up at a homeless shelter.”
Jareth reached across the table, squeezing her wrist. “Is it really that bad?” he whispered, concern etching itself across his face.
“No,” Lily shook her head. “I’m being dramatic. I can always find work.” She scraped the fork across her plate once before stacking Jareth’s plate on top of hers. “Okay, back to me.”
“Wait, I only got two questions.”
“You had three. You just asked if it was really as bad as I implied.”
“That sounds like a technicality, but I’ll let it slide.”
“Thank you,” Lily inclined her head in a small bow. “You have an unusual accent, where are you from?”
“A tiny island nation in the Caribbean,” he replied, drinking his coffee.
“How long did it take you to get here?”
“Almost a full day.”
“Why?”
“I swam.”
“You did not,” Lily giggled.
Jareth grinned. A flash of silver and his fork sunk into the piece of pie. He came away with a cherry. “Delicious,” he murmured, licking his lips as he pulled the tines slowly from his mouth.
“I know, but it looked so good.”
Lily held her fork up like a makeshift sword. “Try it again and see what happens.”
“Fine,” Jareth acquiesced with a grin. He signaled to the waitress. “May we have one more piece, please? She’s commandeered mine.”
“Certainly,” waved the waitress.
“My turn again.”
“No, you didn’t answer my last question yet.”
“Which was?”
“Why did it take you so long to get here?”
“We had some kind of mechanical difficulty with the plane and landed for repairs,” replied Jareth, with a vague wave of his hand. “A new plane needed to be chartered; it was a bit of an ordeal.”
“Your business must be extremely important.” Lily sipped her coffee.
“It is,” replied Jareth cryptically as the waitress deposited a third plate in front him. The steam rose, curling seductively across the table. Lily inhaled deeply, eying his plate over the rim of her coffee cup. “Stay away from my pie,” warned Jareth, raising his fork.
She laughed, setting the cup on the table. “Fine. What do you do?”
“Nope,” Jareth cut her off. “It’s my turn again.”
“Alright,” Lily acquiesced. “Go ahead.”
“Would you be willing to accept a role in a foreign country?”
“Yes, if the contract guaranteed payment in US dollars,” replied Lily without hesitation. Good thing her passport was still valid, even though she had never used it. What was the point of a passport with no stamps?
Jareth nodded. “Would you consider a job where you had to be in character twenty-four hours a day?”
The fork paused. Lily lowered it to her plate. “Are we seriously discussing a role?”
