The more I try to recall, the hazier my memory becomes. And a figurative ax is grinding into my skull. Just what did Harvey feed me?
I wish I’d been able to find a lab or something last night to do toxicology. If I go to the police now, they won’t find anything. Harvey’s too smart to use anything long lasting.
I pray I managed to evade him and his goons, because there’s no way I’m providing legal advice to the mob. Grandmother revealed that one of the biggest reasons Mom wanted to marry Dad was that she was planning to rope Huxley & Webber into representing the “family business,” a.k.a. the Nesovian mob her family runs as it extends its tentacles into the United States. Huxley & Webber represents clients in all industries, but we don’t do organized crime in any shape or form. As a former prosecutor with a sterling reputation, Grandmother refuses to ruin the family legacy that way.
Water and aspirin, then coffee. Afterward, call Dad and Grandmother, explain what happened and put everyone on alert. Harvey won’t stop with me. He’ll go after Bryce and Josh as well.
I start to get up, then stop when I finally realize something is wrapped around my arm. Weird. I can’t stand anything restricting my limbs, and I rarely let anybody loop their arms around mine. It must be Harvey’s drug that made me not notice.
Ice skitters down my spine at the sight of a tangle of golden hair and a white gown. Harvey’s warning about Mom’s plan to have ultra-desperate women manipulate me back to what she calls “family” reverberates like an emergency alert. If Mom were normal, I’d brush his words off as nonsense. But I can never underestimate her deviousness or tenacity.
Besides, the end of my nightmare floods into my head, flashing like a big warning. My gut tightens.
I lift my head, trying to figure out what the hell is going on and who the woman wrapped around my arm like a squid is. And just what—
There is a silver ring on my left hand.
It glints in the morning light.
No. No fucking way I eloped!
I want the promotion, but not to the point of eloping in Vegas while high on Harvey’s drug. I couldn’t possibly have dragged myself into a chapel with some strange woman, could I? Sudden alarm clenches around my throat. I jostle the woman and hop off the bed, then turn on the lights.
“Hey,” comes a soft grumble.
The voice is low and raspy, surprisingly pleasant to my ears. She turns around and shoves the hair out of her face. Her winged eyebrows pinch together, small nose wrinkling and mouth pursing until it resembles a rosebud. Finally she opens her eyes, one blue and one green, and blinks at me.
“Lareina?” I say, dumbfounded.
“Yeah. What’s the matter? Did Mr. No-Neck chase us here?”
“No-Neck?” What kind of trouble are we in? The lack of control over the situation is worse than listening to a screeching violin. Or Soledad.
“You know, the guy you were running away from.”
Harvey’s asshole. “How do you know?
“Cuz I’m good.” A lazy, satisfied grin splits her pretty face. “He tried to catch you, but I got you instead. You said you’d managed to escape before somebody could make you sign something or other.”
I let out a sigh, my shoulders sagging. At least I didn’t do anything irreversible with Harvey.
“You’re welcome,” she adds. “It was karma. You helped me, I helped you.”
Doesn’t that seem a little too convenient?She just happened to be in the suite next to mine, then after I helped her leave the hotel without getting detected by her money-grubbing relatives, she just happened to run into me while I was out of my mind from whatever the hell Harvey fed me? And then she just happened to fall into bed with me?
I look at Lareina’s slim hand. A silver ring—one that wasn’t there yesterday—glints on her finger as well. She gazes up at me, her eyes hopeful.
Does she expect me to say “thank you”? Drop to my knees and vow undying gratitude and offer to do anything she wants?
My help was genuine. But hers? After the encounter with Harvey and the warning about Mom, I don’t dare take anything at face value. Some might automatically believe that Lareina really wanted to help, but I’ve never been that lucky. Queen was the only exception.
The real question is: who does Lareina answer to? Mom? Harvey? Or herself? And if the answer is the last one, where doI fit in her scheme? Nobody marries a stranger justto help. She wants something.
“By marrying me?” My skepticism is sharp enough to cut.
She opens her mouth, but her belly interrupts with a loud growl. Her cheeks flush. I smirk at the convenient timing. I start to say something cutting, except my stomach lets out a matching growl.
Seriously? Fuck you, biology.But once my body starts to protest the lack of food, I realize I’m famished. I probably haven’t eaten anything. I wouldn’t have touched anything Harvey might’ve offered, and Lareina was obviously too busy dragging me to a sleazy chapel to feed me.
