Chapter Forty-Eight
Josh
I stretch my neck in the box, very aware of the satisfied grin on my face. Bringing Klein here was a great decision. I’m so proud of the way she handled herself against Katt and Coco.
She has the kind of gentle soul that everyone strives for. It’s what makes her rare and precious, even if she doesn’t realize it. But she’s come a long way since our video went viral, and the surge in her confidence is amazing.
Her staking her claim in front of these women set my blood on fire. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the performance was about to start and we needed to take our seats, I might’ve dragged her back to the limo and fucked her right then.
But it was actually better in the box. So in a way, I got what I wanted. We both did, based on the desperate way her pussy milked my cock.
I head out to grab a bottle of white wine for Klein in case she’s thirsty.
The lights in the lobby flicker twice, to alert everyone that intermission is about to end.
Unfortunately, Klein is nowhere to be found.
Just how bad is the line at the bathroom?
I spot Elizabeth coming from the direction of the ladies’ room and approach her.
“Have you seen Klein?” Then I remember that she might not know who I’m talking about. “Ailee. My fiancée.”
She shakes her head. “No. Why?”
“She went to the bathroom, but hasn’t come back.”
“That’s strange. I was one of the last ones in there.”
Unease settles over me.
“Did you try calling her?”
I pull out my phone and call Klein’s number. It rings a few times, then goes to voicemail. I shake my head.
“That’s odd. Maybe she got talking to someone and lost track of time?”
“Yeah. Maybe.” Even as I say it, I know Klein isn’t gossiping with anybody. Other than Elizabeth, Barron, Coco and her shitty sister, she doesn’t really seem to know anybody here. Not only that, charity operas aren’t her scene.
Apprehension rears its ugly head, but I shove it aside. Needless panic won’t do any good. I text Klein.
–Me: Where are you? Are you okay?
I wait a few moments. Nothing.
Dammit. I head back to our box, in case her phone battery died and she’s already there. I really hope it’s something as benign as that.
My phone buzzes against my chest. I pull it out, then exhale with relief when I see a text from Klein. She sent a photo. I tap to open it.
My blood turns to ice. It’s not a cute selfie or something pretty she saw and wanted to share with me.
It’s her strapped to a chair with her hands behind her back and ankles tied to the legs.
Her mouth is stuffed with a ball, and a long strip of cloth around her head keeps it in, effectively gagging her.
Her eyes are wide and glazed with terror.
Tremors run through me. Fuck. The setup is quintessential Mom. Another text.
–Klein: Pretty, isn’t she? Things didn’t have to get this ugly if she hadn’t resisted the family reunion. Not sure why, since I was so nice to her. Regardless, it won’t do for her to be so rude to her future mother-in-law.
–Me: Where the fuck are you?
–Klein: On a boat. Find me. Alone. Let’s have a proper reunion. It’s long overdue.
I rush out, cursing that I didn’t rent a car. The limo is too cumbersome, and I don’t have time to wait for the chauffeur.
I burst out of the main entrance and run down the steps as quickly as I can. I almost crash into Tolyan, who has his face in his phone.
“Got a car I can borrow?” I ask.
Only his eyes move as he looks at me. “Don’t you have a limo?” His voice is gravelly, as though he hasn’t spoken in days.
“Yeah, but this is urgent. Can’t wait for my driver. Can you help—”
“Your name isn’t Elizabeth King.” Tolyan taps the phone screen, jerking his chin at the opera house. “They’re starting.”
Impatience wells, but I stomp on it. “They got my money. It’s important.”
Still glaring at the phone, he reaches into his pants pocket and tosses me a fob. “Take this.” He points to a black Mercedes coupe parked three yards from us.
“If you ever need to fuck somebody up in court, call me,” I call out as I run to the car.
He laughs. “The day I need to fuck somebody up in court is the day I retire.”
I jump into the car, start the engine, then floor it, trying to work out the logistics of what Mom has done.
Klein’s been gone for less than half an hour, so she couldn’t have gotten very far.
Mom said she was on a boat, but given her personality and preference, it won’t actually be a boat.
It’ll be some grand yacht where she can show off.
Because this reunion isn’t about convincing me, but forcing me into accepting the outcome she wants.
As I drive, I call Dad using the hands-free function on the car.
“Hello?” He sounds confused. “Aren’t you at—”
“Mom took Klein,” I cut in. “She claims to be on a boat. We’re in San Diego, but no cops or sirens. She specifically asked me to come alone. I’ll share my location as soon as I find her.”
“Got it.” He hangs up.
I drive along the coastline…and soon hit the nearest marina. Mom didn’t have much time to work with, so Klein is stashed somewhere close. I start location sharing with The Fogeys and my brothers, then look around. Countless boats…and of course five yachts.
Fuck.
I’m not going over to all five. Klein may not have much time. Mom’s capricious and has a terrible temper. She actually hit Bryce—hurting Klein wouldn’t even be an afterthought.
The first yacht doesn’t seem like it. Too much in the way of generic rich-dude vibes.
My gut shivers at the name on the second yacht—the Archidamia.
The ancient Spartan queen who rallied women to defend their homeland.
It would appeal to Mom’s long-held bitterness that Vincent never gave her a fair shot because she’s a woman.
A dinghy is waiting for me. No sailor manning it, but I know Mom sent it.
I hop on and go over to the Archidamia. Nobody on the deck. Weird. I thought she’d come in person to “welcome” me.
It’s an effort to think past the adrenaline. How much time do I have before Mom decides she’s tired of keeping Klein alive?
I pull my phone back out and take a good look at the photo she sent. Not the deck. More like a room. I make my way to the cabins, and open the door to the first one.
What the fuck?
I almost take a step back. The cabin is an exact replica of Dad’s home office. Dad’s sitting at his desk, reviewing a thick stack of papers. He’s in one of his favorite navy suits, one Akiko had custom-made in Japan. What’s he doing—
The illusion is so good that it takes a moment before I realize I’m looking at a wax figurine.
I do a quick check of the room, making sure there’s no one under the desk, then leave and go to the next room.
It’s a copy of Ares’s office at Huxley & Webber.
A wax Ares leans against the edge of the desk, smiling at a wax Lareina.
It’s so realistic—like Mom’s taken a slice of life from Ares and Lareina’s marriage—that chills skitter along my back.
The next room is Bryce’s bedroom. I’ve never seen it, but I’m sure it’s a precise duplicate. A Bryce figurine has his arms wrapped around a Fiona figurine with a barely there baby bump. Their fingers are linked, and the genuine love in their eyes seems very real. The chills now turn to sheer dread.
I rush into another room—hoping it’s where Klein is.
But instead, it’s a copy of Akiko’s kitchen—except it’s a total horror show.
A figurine stands at the counter, its head missing.
Its height and the elaborate kimono indicate it’s supposed to be Akiko.
A knife is stuck to the chest, and on the wall is spray-painted DIE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!
in a bright blood red. I swallow, nausea roiling in my belly. Is Mom going to hurt Akiko too?
I spin around and dash to the last room.
I blink, unable to process what I’m seeing.
Mom has recreated the meditation room from my home, including the tatami mats and the stone garden.
Even the individual rocks are the same. A small copper pot is on an old-style stove—also something I have in my home.
Where’s Klein?
I swivel my head, my heart in my throat. She has to be here!
Shit. Has Mom already done something awful? Tossed Klein overboard, maybe? My skin turns clammy with panic. I’m going to jump in the water and search until I find her. I’m not going anywhere until—
In my peripheral vision is a blonde tied to a chair in the farthest, dimmest corner of the room. Klein! Her eyes are open, but she can’t make any sound. I start toward her, but Mom steps out from a hidden exit behind Klein and puts a gun to her head. “Hello, Josh.”
Horror and loathing pound at me. “Put the gun down!” I grind out, desperately fighting the terror rapidly swelling in my heart.
She chuckles. “Or what?”
I clench my hands. I have no weapons. Trying to jump her would be stupid. If I get shot, who’s going to save Klein? Dad’s probably arranging for some backup, but it won’t be instant. I need to do whatever I can to buy some time. “Is this how you greet your son?”
“You didn’t even offer me tea.” She shrugs. “I hear you’re good at making matcha.”
Impatience shoots through me, but I feign a smile. “If you wanted some green tea, all you had to do was ask.” With more willpower than I’ve ever mustered, I force myself to walk over to the tatami mats and start the tea. Mom follows, the gun still in her hand. She sits across from me on the mat.
“You don’t have to look at me like I’m a monster.”
I shake my head. “Just a kidnapper.” I wait for the water to heat. “Did you drug her?” My voice shakes with barely suppressed fury as I glance at Klein, who still hasn’t tried to say anything, not even through the gag.
“Nooo… Contrary to rumor, I’m not a complete psycho. I have my code.”
Coulda fooled me.
She sighs. “I just want us to be together. Be happy.”