Page 51 of Enchant Me

I look up at her and meet her eyes. “Does Ryan keep burner phones with him?”

Jamie looks at me like I’m crazy. “What? You mean so he can contact all his other women?”

“Ha, ha. No, I mean like for work or something.”

“I assume he has some scattered around the house. And I know he has some at Stark Security. The operatives use them sometimes.”

“No, I mean like on him. Would he have them today while he’s at Jackson’s? In his car, maybe?”

“Okay, that’s a weird question. Why are you asking me that?” I pass her my phone, and her eyes go wide.

“That’s got to be a hoax.”

I nod, thankfully she voiced what I already knew but didn’t want to admit. Because this text was trying to lure me somewhere. But why? “I know. Hang on.”

I dial Ryan’s number, and he answers on the first ring. “Hey, Nikki. Are you calling to tell me my wife’s run off with another man?”

“I don’t think you’ll get rid of her that easily,” I say, grinning at Jamie and thankful for the moment of levity. “Listen, you didn’t lend Damien a burner phone, did you?” Ryan is silent, but I can practically hear the shift in his tone.

“What’s going on?”

I summarize for him, and he mutters a curse.

“Forward me the text. I’ll send a team to the location. And don’t open the map link. It might actually be spyware.”

“Done,” I say, sending the vile thing to him. “Can I speak to Damien? No, I take it back. I want to tell him about this in person. This and one other thing, too. Can you not mention it until I get there?”

“Nikki, what’s going on?”

“I’m not in any danger, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t know about that. Someone was trying to lure you away. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to keep this from your husband.”

I close my eyes, realizing I’d expected that answer. “All right,” I tell him. “I’ll wait here.”

We end the call, and I slide down in my seat to watch the show. Or try to. I feel numb, my mind racing, and these dancing, gyrating men on the stage are like nothing more than the ephemeral background of a very strange nightmare.

I don’t know how much time passes before Jackson, Ryan, and Damien stride into the club. I feel the shift in the air, then realize that most of the club’s patrons have turned to look at them. I see anticipation on their faces; clearly these women are hoping that these men are going to get up on stage, too.

As far as I can tell, the guys are entirely oblivious to the other women in the room. As Jackson and Ryan find their wives, Damien crosses directly to me, then takes my hand.

“With me,” he says, and I have only enough time to look back at my friends and mouth goodbye before he leads me out. The limo is waiting, and we get in. Immediately, we pull away from the curb.

“What about everyone else?”

“They can find their own way home.” He pulls me close and kisses me, a long, deep kiss. The kind that’s more claiming than affection. As if he has to prove to himself that I’m real and safe, and that I’m his.

“Tell me the rest of it,” he says when we pull apart. “Ryan told me about the text trying to send you off to the middle of nowhere. But he also said there was something else you needed to tell me.”

I draw a breath, then show him the text and relay the conversation with Evelyn. “Charles can’t stop it. All we know is that there’s going to be an announcement tomorrow.”

Damien leans back, but he doesn’t look broken. He looks frustrated, and I can’t blame him.

“Sweetheart, I hope this isn’t true. But we’ve had this conversation before. There is a possibility. A slim one, because I’ve always been careful, but there is a possibility.”

“I know that.” He told me himself when we first started going out that he didn’t date, but he did fuck. In many ways, Damien had been as lost as I was before we found each other. I’d cut. He’d lost himself in his business, moving forward toward conquering the world, and on that journey he had a stream of gorgeous women on his arm. Considering his reputation back then, I suppose we’re lucky this hasn’t happened more often.

“Listen, I don’t know if it’s true,” he says. “And if it is, I don’t know what their endgame is. Why not just approach me? Why send these vile texts? I don’t know, and I don’t like it.”