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“Consider it done. I’ve got a friend running down some license plate numbers for us. I’ll call you if I find anything.”
The line goes dead, and I lean against the wall and close my eyes. I’m supposed to be escorting my wife out of a wedding reception and onto a private jet for our honeymoon right now. Instead, I’m waiting on a doctor to tell me if I still have a brother or not.
***
Bellamy
I can’t help the tears that fall as I lay on the couch with my back to the room, so Owen doesn’t see me. Crying isn’t something I’m prone to, but given the circumstances, it seems warranted.
Here I am on my wedding day wearing my ex-boyfriend’s clothes, while my would-be-husband is at the hospital saying goodbye to a dying brother.
“I can tell you’re crying, love. There’s no point in hiding it from me.”
I sit up and turn to face him as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and stands to hand it to me. When I take it, He drops to one knee in front of the couch and puts a hand on my thigh.
“It’s going to be OK.”
I wipe my eyes and give him a sad smile. “Always the optimist.”
“We could run away right now and go back to Las Vegas. Matteo can put us in the air within the hour.”
I gasp, my eyes wide with horror. “Owen, no. Then they really would believe you were behind this. They would kill you. We can’t. It’s more important than ever to keep the peace. Things have been tense between our families. My father has been waiting for this wedding for years. If we don’t go through with it, it’s going to start a huge fight. Maybe even a war if they find out I ran away with you.”
He reaches up and cups my cheek. “Relax. I knew you wouldn’t agree to it. But I had to try.”
My heart aches when He stands and kisses my forehead then returns to his spot at the table in front of his tech.
A few minutes later, he curses. “Shit.”
“What is it?”
“Bellamy, love. Go in the bathroom and lock the door.”
Obeying Owen is instinctive for me, and I do as I’m told, knowing there’s something dangerous nearby.
I pace the tiny bathroom, my heart racing as I wait. What feels like an eternity later, I hear Owen talking on the phone. His voice is muffled, but I recognize the stress in his tone.
“We need a way out of here. You said this place was fucking secure.”
A pause.
“Bloody hell. I’ll call with a meeting point.”
There is frantic movement and a gentle tap on the door.
“Come on, love. I’m afraid we need to run.”
Thankfully, I didn’t go for the five-inch heels my mother-in-law wanted me to wear and instead opted for flats under my dress. They look ridiculous with Owen’s sweats, but now isn’t the time to worry about that.
He holds out his hand when I open the door, and we rush out of the conference room and down the stairs. But instead of going out the front door, he leads me to another set of stairs that takes us down to a wine cellar. There, we wind up in a tunnel.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I whisper as we make our way deeper into the tunnel.
“Not exactly,” he admits. “But down here is safer than up there.”
We arrive at a door, and Owen pushes me against a wall before he opens it. When he gives me the all clear, I follow him through it and we step out into a cemetery.
“Come on. I recognize where we are now.” His grip on my hand tightens, and we make our way to a gate that leads out onto the street.
