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How long ago was it that Miles had sent that message? Hours?
“Let’s just say he won’t be making it to the church on time. He’ll not even make it to the hotel.” She chuckled sinisterly, the pressure on Ivy’s stomach from the gun relaxing slightly along with some of her panic.
No one knew Miles had arrived here before her. No one but their security team. But that didn’t mean anything, not if even half the words this mad-woman had spoken were true. A huge knot formed in her stomach, matching the painful swell that balled in her throat.
Logically, she knew she was lying, knew Miles had arrived at the hotel before her. But this was not time for logic, because her heart didn’t believe her brain, each beat squeezed painfully, calling out to him. Each cry seeming to echo in silence as terror descended. Hehadbeen here, but he could have left, Monica had no way of knowing where he’d come from to walk into her trap. He would have left, he wouldn’t have told her, wouldn’t have wanted her worrying. But he would have left there was no question, if he thought his mother was in danger, despite their current argument, he still loved her. If he thought she was in danger.
She forced her eyes closed, swallowing. She could see it so clearly, him once more being a knight in shining armour, fighting on the side of those he loved, protecting them. But not all knights had a happy ending. Some were lost. Her chest tightened, pain swelling until she could barely breathe and tears streamed freely down her cheeks, her head shaking in denial as her heart ached and burned as if it tried to destroy itself within her. She couldn’t lose him, not Miles.
She had to think. What was it this woman wanted, what could she offer, how could she find out what she’d done to Miles? She had to continue, sell her story, make her believe it, and there was only one way to do that. “You don’t want to hurt me. I’m your last link to him. I know where we were the last time I saw him. I’m your only chance of finding him.”
“Finding him? He’s dead!” She spat, Ivy saw the tears well in the woman’s eyes. “You and your rescue team would have made sure of that. His boat’s at the bottom of the ocean, and he sank along with it.”
“No, no. That’s what he wanted people to think. It was all part of his plan. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before people realised the yacht had sunk. He’d rigged explosives. He had a wife, you see. He couldn’t live the life he wanted with her hanging around his neck. He needed freedom, obscurity, but everywhere he’d go people would know his name, they’d record his life as if it was entertainment. He’d spent years funnelling money into a secret account. He wanted to start fresh.”
That’s what people did right, rich people? They created untraceable accounts, hid money, lived secret lives and could disappear. That’s what all the TV movies and series she liked to watch suggested anyway. A hot bead of sweat trickled down her back. Please, please buy it, she begged silently.
“He’s alive?”
Ivy felt the tears spill from her own eyes, cascading down her cheek at speed to drip from her chin as she nodded. “I don’t know where. I was rescued, like I said, but what I didn’t say, was that I was found alone. From what I was told, Owner had stepped out for some supplies. A new ID, they said, but they couldn’t trace the name he assumed, but… but I think I know where he’d go. He had a plan. I heard him talking on the phone.” Ivy reached forward slowly, heart pounding with such force she felt the pulse in her neck suffocating her, making each nervous swallow more difficult.
Ivy kept talking, softly, soothingly. She had no idea what words spilt from her lips. Her only awareness was her fingers raising slowly to wrap around the cold barrel of the gun. She saw the distant look in Monica’s eyes snap into keen focus on her hand. Her finger squeezed. Pushing Monica’s hand across and to the side as she twisted Ivy moved, taking the only chance she’d have. An explosion rang through the air causing bells to ring in her ears. A second and third shot echoed as Monica screamed, pulling the trigger time and time again, trying to force the weapon back towards Ivy as she screamed words unheard over the deafening alarms that deadened her senses and blurred her vision.
The pressure of their scuffle suddenly eased. It was seconds before she realised someone else was there. Someone pinning the screaming woman to the floor, and someone else’s arms were around her. Hands moved to her shoulder, tracing her body frantically. She saw moving lips, the skittering of freckles, across his nose as she drew her gaze up to the eyes she lived for.
Pine cones and glitter.
Pure Heaven.
She could drown in that gaze, lose herself so completely in the comfort of their presence. Let go and sink into him. He was safe. Thank whatever forces were listening, he was safe. Her heart steadied its irregular tattoo, recalibrating itself to his.
But those eyes she adored were filled with worry, his hands still tracing her, looking for any sign of injury. She checked herself mentally. Was she unharmed? She couldn’t feel anything, her body was numb, trembling.
“Sin.” The voice finally broke through the ringing in her ears. “Are you hurt? Sin?”
“You shouldn’t be here. It’s bad luck.” She wasn’t sure why those words were the first she said before she pushed herself forwards pressing her icy cold body against his, hoping his strength would still the uncontrollable tremors that wracked through her.
She felt his arms tighten as she sobbed in relief, accepting his heat as she sank into his strong arms. This, right here, was all she needed, all she craved. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but him. He was safe. His masculine scent washed over her, cradling her every sense as she clung onto him, holding him close, in fear of letting go. She never wanted to let him go again. Never.
Monica had been lying. She’d known it. She had. But there had still been that lingering doubt. The panic that came with fear. Seeing him now, having his arms around her, was everything.
It had been a lie. But there was something else, something she didn’t believe was a ruse. “We need to find your mum,” Ivy whispered, pushing herself to her tiptoes to allow the words to float almost silently into his ear through her soft sniffles. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was aware of Monica being dragged from the room. Kicking and screaming, all the while swearing vengeance, justice.
“We’re getting married in two hours. I’m not playing reconciliation now.”
Ivy pulled back, fixing her eyes on his so she could see the sincerity, the seriousness of her words as she swiped her eyes, steeled herself. “No, Miles, we need tofindher. Monica realised she’d been the one sending the photos. She abducted her after she left your dad.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ivy sat in silence, watching the minutes on the clock tick by as Becca paced, refilling another glass of champagne, her red lips leaving their mark on the crystal glass.
“I can’t believe she’s still managed to ruin your wedding,” Becca bit out spitefully, eyeing the elegant bags hanging untouched in the wardrobe, the zippers still up, the beautiful garments within concealed.
“I just hope she’s okay.” There was nothing but sincerity to her words. She knew the fear that came with being abducted, with being left alone and helpless, of not knowing if anyone would notice you were missing, or even care that you were.
Monica had issues, clearly. She’d been subjected to Owner’s hand, but who knew how deep her own depravity ran. Who knew what she’d subject Mrs Taylor to, especially given the revelation that it was she who was responsible for the pictures Monica had believed came from him? What could that do to a person? What would it make someone do to a person?
She’d never thought about it before, but she remembered the nurse, who had visited her before Owner’s game truly began, saying something about other women. From what Monica said, Owner had played more gently with them. The scars on her wrist had been barely visible. She’d wanted to be part of his games, chosen to play. If that was her kink, then there was no judgement. CNC, abduction, it all had its appeal in the kink world, but Owner had never been a safe play partner. At least, not for her.
