8. Alex
ALEX
Well, this is both terrifying and mortifying.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp. “I’m not a crier.” It’s true, but pretty difficult to prove with all these tears streaming down my face. I swipe at them hastily. “It’s the hormones.”
Eric makes a small noise of concern then puts an arm around me, pulling me closer, until my unhappy head meets his shoulder.
The pregnancy hormones are wreaking havoc on my fortitude, because nothing has ever felt better to me than Eric’s solid bulk under my cheek. I’ve never been the sort of woman who needs a man to tell her that everything is all right. But my burdens are extra heavy today.
“Tell me why you’re so freaked,” he whispers. “Gunnar will get to the bottom of it.”
“He’s stripping the bed right now, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” he admits.
“A bug in the bedroom. This is such a disaster. And it’s all my fault.
Of all the men I could have…” I swallow hard and sit up straight again.
“What if Jared won’t sign the papers just to spite me?
What if he won’t give me custody?” My anxieties bound around like the white-tailed deer on Martha’s Vineyard.
“Slow down there. Breaking and entering won’t sound good to a judge,” he points out. “The crazier he acts, the worse it will be for him.”
I actually shiver. That’s how terrified I am of Jared. Before now, I’d wondered if I’d just built him up in my mind—if he wasn’t really as big a creep as I’d made him out to be.
And then someone put a bug in my hotel room.
Eric’s strong arm tightens around me. “Deep breaths. I mean that literally. Do you do yoga?”
“Sometimes.” I take a very long inhale. When I can’t possibly bring in any more air, I let it out slowly through my mouth.
“There you go. Bedrooms are where they put bugs, anyway.”
“Who does?” I gasp.
“Breathe,” he chides. “Anyone who bugs a home hits the kitchen and bedroom first, because that’s where most serious conversations happen.
Those are the places where people forget to be on their guard.
My brother and father yap about this shit all the time.
I could write a manual on how to invade people’s privacy. ”
I laugh. “Fun times at the Bayer Family dinner table.”
“You know it. My dad taught me to hot-wire a car when I was sixteen.”
“Just for fun?” I ask, perking up a little. The distraction of hearing about Eric’s family is even better than deep breathing.
“We were out fishing at a quiet lake in the middle of New Jersey. And I dropped the keys out of the boat. Plunk. Right into the lake. So we had to hot-wire our own car just to get home.”
“Oh, man.” I laugh. “Was your father pissed off?”
“That’s putting it mildly. He made me pay for the replacement key. Fifty bucks. I had to mow three extra lawns just to cover the cost.”
“Both our dads are hard-asses,” I realize. And I’m breathing easier now. I shouldn’t stay right here, plastered to Eric as tightly as a bumper sticker, letting him console me. His role as my fake boyfriend doesn’t really extend to this.
But I like it, okay? Sue me.
And now my adrenaline rush is turning into an adrenaline crash. I’m suddenly so tired. I put my head back down on his shoulder and close my eyes. Just for a minute.
That was the idea, anyway. But the next thing I know, I hear Gunnar’s voice. My eyes fly open, and both Pieter and Gunnar are standing there in front of us.
I sit up straight just in time to hear Gunnar say that they didn’t find anything else in the suite. “He only had enough time to drop the one device. And he didn’t come out on the terrace, or we would have seen it in the video.”
“True,” I say, blinking to clear my vision.
“We’re leaving you a metal rod to secure this sliding door—” Gunnar gestures at the terrace door. “—And an alarm to hang on your hotel room door when you turn in for the night. It’s a simple device. Lock up and then hang it on the door handle before you turn it on. If it’s jostled, it screams.”
“Got it,” Eric says.
“We’ll put a tail on Tatum. You won’t notice our guy, but he’ll follow Tatum any time the man is outside his hotel room.”
“But how will you know when he leaves his room?” I try to picture a security agent standing around on Jared’s hotel floor, trying to look inconspicuous.
Gunnar grins. “Don’t ask, don’t tell.”
“Okay.”
“Do me a favor, though? Email me or Max with the list of meetings you’re taking. We need to take a second look at those business connections. Oh, and if you turned down any requests for meetings, we want those, too.”
“Sure.” Although it won’t be easy to remember who had asked me for a meeting. “I’ll check with my assistant. I’m sure we rebuffed a few suppliers who weren’t up for consideration.”
“Consideration for what?” Eric asks.
“Making the new hardware for my product launch. It’s a sophisticated home network system—both a router and a smart speaker rolled together.”
“With Bingley?” he asks.
“Exactly. We’re buying a lot of components for delivery in October. Chips. Motherboards. Housing. High-end speakers.”
“Your wallet is open,” Gunnar points out. “That makes you interesting to half the people at the conference.”
“Interesting enough for industrial espionage?” Eric asks.
“Absolutely,” Gunnar agrees cheerfully. “Industrial espionage is as common as brushing and flossing at these things.”
It’s true, but I never used to worry very much. It’s weird how my pregnancy has shifted my focus. I’m more afraid of everything right now. Although I’m more afraid of Jared than I am of corporate spies.
“Tomorrow is the cocktail party, right?” Pieter asks.
“I could skip it,” I offer.
Gunnar shakes his head. “You carry on with whatever you had planned. Nobody’s going to get into your room again. And nobody is going to hurt you. You’ll have lots of coverage, okay?”
Pieter pulls two key cards out of his pocket. There are initials written on them in Sharpie: an A and an E. “Take these. We had the lock recoded. The housekeepers’ key cards won’t work on that door any longer. The hotel won’t send anyone to your room without your express permission.”
“I don’t need housekeeping, anyway.”
“Fine. And now we’ll receive an automated text anytime your room door is opened with a key card. If it’s either of your key cards, we’ll match the location of your phones to the room. If it’s not your key card, we’ll come running.”
“Okay,” I say, feeling a little sturdier already. There are three strapping, intelligent men here to protect me, after all. “That ought to cover it.”
“We tried moving you to a different room, but the hotel is full.”
I could have told them that. “I’ll be fine. He won’t come back, right? He’ll realize that his bug failed immediately, and that we’re stepping up the security.”
“That’s right,” Gunnar says. “Chin up. And text me or call me at any moment.”
“Will do.” I give him a calm smile. Putting others at ease is something I learned to do at an early age. Some days it’s more useful than my double masters degrees.
Then he and Pieter depart, leaving Eric and me on the terrace together. “Now what?” Eric asks. “Want me to make a dinner reservation? Or would you rather have room service and television?”
“I like the second option. I’m still jet-lagged,” I say by way of an excuse. But the truth is that I just don’t feel like making myself visible right now. That video shook me up more than I care to admit. The sight of a stranger so casually breaking in to snoop gives me the willies.
“Fine. A nap sounds good to me right now. Will it bum you out if I fall asleep? We could put the alarm on the door.”
“I’ll be fine,” I lie. “But let’s look at that alarm anyway.”
Back inside the room, we hang the alarm by its strap over the hotel room door. The device is plastic, and bright orange. It looks like a child’s toy. I press its only button, and a light winks on.
Then, as a test, Eric turns the door handle to open the door.
An ear splitting shriek rends my ears, and I push that button again as fast as I can get to it. The return of silence is a huge relief.
“Jesus Christ. I guess it works,” Eric grumbles.
“It’s a laugh a minute with me, isn’t it?” I lock the door again and then carefully press the button to arm the device.
When I stand up, Eric pulls me into a quick hug. I get a whiff of his coconut-scented shampoo before he releases me again. “Chin up, Engels. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I know,” I mumble. “Take your nap, already. I have work to do.”
He gives me a smile that says he knows I’m all bluster. Then he ambles his big self into the bedroom and disappears.
Alone on the sofa, I open my email. The first message is bad news—my assistant Rolf will be a day late. Grandma needs me in New York, is all he wrote. See you Thursday.
Great. More chaos. He’s going to miss a day of meetings?
Now I’m both jumpy and blue.
From the bedroom I hear the gentle sound of Eric’s deep, sleeping breaths, and I last no more than five minutes on the sofa alone. I’m weary and a little freaked out. So I tiptoe into the bedroom, lie down on my own side of the bed, and close my eyes.
The sound of Eric’s slow breathing is more relaxing than any reassurances from my expensive security team. Finally calm, I fall asleep, too.