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Four voices say, “No.”
One says, “Still in the bathroom, sir. Her friend came out a few minutes ago. I’m going in.”
ChapterThirty-One
VANESSA
“Let go of me. Let go!” I’m kicking so hard that my stiletto gets hung in the hem of my dress and rips. “Hellllp.” Then he covers my mouth, and the next thing I know; I wake up in a small bedroom. I think I’m still in the mansion because I hear a faint drumbeat.
When I try to reach for my phone in my dress pocket—best thing ever invented—I realize my hands are tied to the bed frame. Not spread eagle, both hands tied to one pole of the four-poster, antique cherry bed.
His smile is crooked and cold. “Why did you have to choose him? I could have protected you.”
“What are you talking about? Rome, let me go. I have extra security tonight. They’ll find me any minute.”
“Yet here we sit.” He reaches in his tuxedo jacket pocket and pulls out a gun. “You’re going to do exactly as I say or your father dies.”
Rome runs the gun up my bare leg where the dress ripped.
“Where’s my dad?” I shout, hoping someone will hear me. Then I remember my necklace has a hidden camera. My hands are tied but I inch a little at a time, hoping Rome doesn’t notice I’m moving. If I can just press against it, maybe it will activate the camera.
“Funny story. We had a lovely lady lay a sad story on him about her husband dying but she had two tickets to the Caribbean. She dumped him at the island. We didn’t even have to kidnap him—he went willingly and from there things fell into place, other than your…bodyguard.
I hiss, “Boyfriend.”
He laughs like a maniac, dark and disturbed. “You see.” He shares his phone screen with me. He taps on the message, and a video of my dad pops up. They’re holding a gun to his head. “You’re going to do exactly what I say, or we kill him. We’re setting fire to the few batches of Barron’s 12, and you’re going to tell the press it was a warehouse fire caused by faulty electrical.”
“That’s fraud. I can’t do that.”
“Only if you collect insurance. That’s up to you,” he says, unconcerned.
His hand is on lap and I stretch my thumb, rubbing it against his skin. Buy time. Beau will be here. I lean in like I’m going to kiss him and quickly move to the left a little, pressing my chest and necklace against the bedpost. Please work. I close my eyes and say, “Why do you care? You’re not in the business, and our partnership was going to make you millions more.”
“Because some of us weren’t born into millions. Some of us have had to work for what we have. One of your competitors wants you out of the expensive market. You want to see something else?”
Rome shows me a video of my distillery burning. The one holding the small batch of the Special Reserve that was ready for shipping.
“No. No. No.” Tears fill my eyes. My dad has worked so hard to build Barron’s. I scan the room. Floral wallpaper. One window. Looks like we’re on the second floor. “Just don’t hurt my dad. I’ll do anything.”
“You will resign from Barron’s CEO as a complete failure.”
Someone busts in the room from behind me. I can’t see who it is. Please be Beau.
ChapterThirty-Two
BEAU
“Where the fuck is she?” I ask Ben’s team.
“We’re checking the bathroom and surrounding rooms now.”
I don’t want to disturb Hayes’s concert or ruin this night for Vanessa by freaking out, but then I remember she told me her monthly cycle will be next week. She wanted to get in as much reconnecting as we could before then.
A spiky sensation snakes up my spine and I know she’s in trouble, but why isn’t she hitting her necklace? I tell Maverick and Axel to keep an eye out for her but not to alert the girls, yet. I hope I’m overreacting.
Picking up my pace, I check the kitchen because maybe she’s making sure we have plenty of food and liquor. They haven’t seen her. Next stop the grand foyer where people are milling around away from the mini concert. There I find Edward Fitch with a devilish grin on his face.
“Have you seen Ms. Barron?” I ask him.
