Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ashlynn
I refused to leave the room, not wanting to take any chances of running into Steele in the hall or in the kitchen. He’d given me free access to every part of his estate, but I hunkered down in my borrowed room. I slept off and on throughout the night, trying to use sleep as a sedative for the situation I’d gotten myself into. But whenever I woke, Steele’s confession came back to me, ringing in my head.
I love you, Ashlynn.
It was absurd. The minute he said it, my mind had tried to make up excuses. It was just something he said in the throes of passion. It was an accident. He meant to say he loved my body, or the way we came together.
But the look on his face I couldn’t excuse.
It was the truth.
How did I not see it sooner? He seemed to have dropped his vendetta against my father, he confided in me, and wined and dined me across Europe. He took me to the opera, art galleries…he held me when I cried.
I’d wrongly assumed he did it for sex.
I watched Steele drive away after his last plea to me. I wasn’t ready to face him, and there was no way in hell I was going to have dinner with him.
My head pounded, so I finally left my bed. I went to the bathroom, and underneath my sink was the medicine container that was previously in my apartment. I internally cursed Steele, pissed off by his thoughtfulness, and angry that he’d chosen to be a criminal. If only he wasn’t a criminal, it would be easier—
To what? Love him? To be with him?
I looked in the mirror as I dry-swallowed two ibuprofen. My eyes were red and swollen, my hair messy from both sleep and the way Steele had been playing with it. I had dark circles under my eyes, and my cheeks were pale. I looked like a woman who had been sobbing over the loss of a loved one.
For the millionth time, I tried to sort out my feelings. But no matter how many times I attempted to figure out what I felt and the needs and desires that led me to my actions, I came up even more perplexed. When this was all done, I’d need serious therapy.
I heard a loud, ear-piercing scream. There weren”t very many females employed by Steele, so I knew it was Glinda. I rushed out of my room and looked out over the grand staircase just in time to see Glinda running towards the door. Behind her, three men wearing all black pursued her.
“Glinda!” I yelled, concerned for her. My outcry attracted the attention of the men, and they stopped chasing her immediately. The man in front, a huge man with tattoos all across his face, ran up the stairs two at a time. I started back down the hall, running towards Steele”s room. I figured he’d have weapons in there. Just as I got to the door, I was pulled back, the man grabbing my shoulder. I turned on the spot and swung, hitting him sharply on the jaw. He staggered back and I entered Steele’s room, looking around. I couldn’t find a weapon in the main room, but I was confident he’d have one in his nightstand. I crossed over into his private space, the space that we had shared together, and opened the drawer. Sure enough, there was a pistol, but before I could grab it, I was yanked backwards by my hair.
“Got her!”
I struggled as he picked me up, and I hollered and smacked him as hard as I could.
“Stop fighting!”
But I would never stop. It took all three of them to drag me out of the house and across the lawn. A helicopter was sitting in the middle of Steele’s property, its rotor blades frantically spinning.
I was shoved inside, and the men jumped in behind me.
The tattooed man spoke to the man in the front seat, next to the pilot.
“Let Mr. Phillips know we have her.”
His words hit my brain slowly, and I realized that these men worked for my father. This was the plan that my father mentioned back at the opera. I was being rescued.
A satellite phone was thrust at my ear, and I took it.
“Ashlynn?” My father’s voice was calm, and I didn’t know how he could remain so unfrazzled in this situation.
“Dad?” The word came out softly, disbelief in my voice. I never really thought he would outsmart Steele and manage to get me back.
“Good. Glad you’re safe. I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up, and the man in the passenger seat took back the phone.
The three other men ignored me as we flew over the French countryside.
I was free.
The helicopter landed at the same private section of the airport Steele used. I recognized my father’s private plane immediately. Now that I was officially in their custody, the men who’d captured me (or rescued me, rather) were less hostile. They flanked my side like my own private guards as I walked up the steps to the aircraft. My knees shook a bit as I made my way into the cabin. I never thought I’d see my father again, and I was just seconds from being reunited.
I looked around the cabin, my eyes narrowing as I took in the empty seats. I turned around to ask the men where he was, but they were already back in the helicopter.
He hadn’t even bothered to show up at the airport.
Tears stung my eyes as I sat down and fastened my seatbelt. There was no crew other than the pilot, no one to tell me where we were headed, but I didn’t really care. I found myself thinking about the things I’d left behind. My mom’s afghan was in my bedroom at Steele’s, and I wondered if he’d save it for me or burn everything that was left behind. At least he’d been gone when my father sent his cronies to retrieve me. He’d be furious when he came back and found me gone. I was sure he’d try and get me back—especially after the lengths he went to get me back from the Irish. And especially since he loved me.
I felt the inside of my throat thicken, and tears misted my eyes as I imagined his despair. One of the staff would call him, or he might have security feeds on his phone and perhaps watched it in real-time. I wasn’t sure how my father’s men managed to get past his entire security team, but they had.
I laid my head back against the seat, trying to relax, but it was proving impossible. My mind kept picturing the way Steele’s eyes looked when he professed his love. The way he tenderly held me after the opera. How he made love to me in front of the fire.
The images swirled around in my head until I couldn’t take it anymore. The second we landed, I was going to take a massive sleeping pill and try and sleep my way out of this messy situation.
Luckily we landed quickly. I looked out the window and instantly recognized Heathrow. We were back in London.
The plane circled the tarmac, and I could see a black limo sitting to the side, waiting. I wondered briefly if my father would be waiting for me inside, but I was so overtired and emotionally wrought that I didn’t care.
The driver opened the door to the limo as soon as I disembarked and I hurried to slide into the backseat. I was still wearing my pajamas and they did little to protect me from the cold. Goosebumps puckered my arms as I ducked my head and finally looked around the limo.
My father sat there, looking the same as he always had. I didn’t know what I’d pictured, but it certainly wasn’t this. I guess I expected him to be thin from worry, his face thick with stubble and his eyes hollow from lack of sleep. Instead, he acted as if he was just picking me up from a long weekend away or after a semester in college.
I sat across from him, a bit shocked by his appearance.
“I suppose you’re well?” He asked the question as if we were work colleagues. I wanted to scream at him, let him know what a terrible situation he’d put me in. But my eyelids were heavy and my headache was so bad that I winced in pain as the lights from the runway flashed.
“I guess,” I murmured, looking down at my bare feet.
“I should have brought a change of clothes for you.” Finally, a bit of guilt in his tone.
“Yeah, that would have been nice.”
The limo took us to the Dorset Hotel, and we checked into the nicest suite they had. We rode up the elevator together, both of us quiet. He unlocked the door to the suite and I went inside, quickly claiming one of the bedrooms.
I closed the door and looked at the crisp, white sheets. They were so different from the black satin ones that Steele had. Some things about him were so dark, like his personality. But he also had lighthearted moments, moments that made him charismatic and endearing.
Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about him immediately.
I pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed, and then I shut my eyes, praying for a dreamless sleep to take me.