AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Love you, too.”
“And I’m so not okay with you using my name for international travel fraud,” she mentions.
I laugh softly. “Only your first name, though. I used Zoey’s last name.”
“Uh-huh. Not cool, Dany.”
“Bye, Sky.”
She hangs up and I stand to finish packing. Thirty minutes later, I’m driving out of our neighborhood and heading to the airport for my 3 p.m. flight.
Hello, freedom!
* * *
I’mof the firm belief that everything happens for a reason. Every move, every action is primed to cater to the whims of whoever’s up there dangling all our lives on a rope, like we’re puppets. Call it fate, destiny, coincidence, it doesn’t matter. Even coincidences lead to something, therefore they happen for a reason.
Following that reasoning, I’m almost sure there’s a reason behind the fact that my flight has not only been delayed but I’ve also been disallowed from checking in. They’re claiming it’s a security issue, but that doesn’t make any sense. I’m not a fucking terrorist.
Unless…. what if they found out about my fake identity?
But the person who made it for me assured me it was legit.Shit. Fuck my life.
I’m about to make a run for it or call my dad to bail me out when the security guard in front of me snaps to attention. I turn to see what he’s looking at and my mouth drops open. With wide eyes, I take in the four impeccably dressed men in suits walking over. And the man standing right in the middle.
My breaths come out faster and I start to feel a little light-headed. It’s not just because I’m pretty sure each of the men is armed with a gun right now. It’s the fact that I recognize them. I know exactly who they are. And I know the tall, black-haired Adonis standing in the middle is none other than my darling fiancé.
Christian D’Angelo strides over to me like he’s got all the time in the world. His eyes are behind dark sunglasses, and usually, something like this would be corny as fuck. It’s like a scene straight out of an action movie where the feds show up and take down the bad guy, looking cool in black suits and glasses. But the man walking toward me isn’t a lawman by any stretch of the imagination. And there’s nothing corny about the way he looks right now. He looks like he was meant to be here. He exudes confidence, male dominance. I swallow softly, trying to work up the nerve to face him.
He could be here to kill me and my only other option is to beg and plead for mercy.
“Hi, Christian, right? I don’t think we’ve met,” I say, with a nervous laugh.
I can’t be sure since he’s wearing shades, but I’m pretty sure there’s cold indifference lurking in his eyes. He barely spares me a glance before turning to the security guard beside me. Christian doesn’t even say a word. He simply stretches out a hand and the guard hands him my passport, visa, and all my documents. My mouth drops open as Christian starts to look through them while I stand in front of him looking like an idiot.
Still, it gives me time to study him. His dark hair is shaved short on the sides, and he has a strong, angular jaw. His suit is molded onto his toned, broad body, and apart from the confidence, he’s also exuding precision.
My heart leaps when he looks back at me, his expression colder than before.
“Skylar Cameron,” he says. It’s not a question.
His indifferent tone runs down my spine with a strange thrill following in its wake. I clear my throat and straighten to my full height. But even then, and despite the three-inch heels I’m currently wearing, I barely come up to his chin. The man is freakishly huge. He looks like he could throw me across the airport terminal with barely any effort.
“I understand how this looks,” I begin but he cuts me off.
“Save it. You’re coming with me,” he says.
Again, my mouth drops open. Is this how this is going to be?
“Yeah, that’s not happening. Let’s start this again. Hi, I’m Daniella, and obviously, I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. But if you’d just let me explain and not shoot me…”
He doesn’t say a word for several seconds. The air is tinged with tension and dry amusement.
“I don’t really care for an explanation,” is all Christian says before turning around and facing his bodyguards slash fellow mafia men, I’m guessing.
I’m pretty sure one of them is his brother. I’ve seen him once or twice at a function or two, always five paces behind Christian. I’m not sure what his name is, though.
“Escort Ms. Evans and her belongings to the car,” he orders, his voice crisp. “I’ll take care of the situation here.”
