3. SURPRISE
CHLOE
I raced to Northeast Harbor to meet Dale, Bryce’s assistant.
He was accompanied by full security detail.
After making him swear on his life that he’d keep my brother safe and on the mainland, I headed for the airport.
I didn’t trust many people, but Dale was one of the good guys. My brother loved him.
I still made Dale swear on his life. Twice.
As I passed the mountains and ocean views, my stomach somersaulted.
I’d be seeing Bryce soon. What on earth was I going to say to him?
I couldn’t return to our marriage—I truly felt as though my hands were tied.
Gene Windsor had seen to that. If I did, Gene would hurt my brother. He would hurt my husband.
I’d been ordered to stay away. I wanted what was best for Bryce—and of course, for my brother.
But I couldn’t help feeling a spark of hopefulness and excitement at the thought of being reunited with Bryce.
I’d missed him so much. But now, more than ever, I needed to be strong, to protect him from me.
As I approached the tiny Bar Harbor airport, my stomach tied itself into a knot. There were police officers lined up outside; the entrance was barricaded. I rolled down my window and nodded at an officer. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Windsor. We’re expecting you.”
I gaped up at him. The police officer knew my name?
“The airport’s closed for a private flight. Mr. Windsor’s waiting for you—just pull on through.” He patted the SUV.
A private flight? Had Bryce just flown in? My thoughts buzzed as I drove through the blockade. The police officers were doing their jobs, all right—there wasn’t a sign of the paparazzi anywhere, one slight relief. The press had been chasing us since Gene Windsor was accused of insider trading.
But as I pulled up into the dirt parking lot, any and all relief evaporated.
My nerves completely overtook me. There were two black SUVs—which I recognized as belonging to the Windsors—and one random sedan in the parking lot.
Bryce’s men were stationed outside at various intervals, but Bryce himself was nowhere to be seen.
My phone buzzed. On the tarmac.
I glanced over: a small plane was waiting on the grassy runway. Bryce stood outside it, sunglasses on, arms crossed against his broad, muscled chest. I almost started salivating; that was the effect he always had on me. Damn.
‘Damn’ was right because I couldn’t touch him. Bryce was like water, water, all around—but no matter how thirsty I was, there would be no drops to drink.
Still, I hustled to the tarmac. I couldn’t help but notice how his shirt strained against this powerful chest and arms, his bulging forearms, and how his thick, tousled hair blew back from his forehead.
But I’d be lying if I said that it was his good looks that undid me—it was him .
My husband. My love. The person I wanted to fall asleep with every night, the one I wanted to wake up next to.
The man I had to stay away from.
I reached him but kept my distance. His shoulders sagged.
“Hey,” I mumbled.
“Get in.” Bryce’s voice betrayed no emotion.
“Get in…?”
“The plane.” He motioned to the door.
“I can’t. I have to go back and get Noah—”
“Noah’s with Dale. It’s all been taken care of. My father won’t know a thing. He’s being arrested this afternoon, Chloe. He can’t hurt you.”
I felt like he’d punched me in the gut. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”
Bryce grabbed me by the hips, picked me up like a doll, and stuffed me inside the entrance.
“Hey!” I wrenched free of him.
“Sit down. Get buckled.”
“Stop it! You can’t make me do this!” I tried maneuvering past him, but his hulking frame blocked the exit.
“The hell I can’t. Remember what I said, that I wouldn’t drag you away like a prisoner?” Bryce pulled off his sunglasses so I could see his eyes, revealing the dark circles beneath them. “I lied.”
I looked around wildly—there was a pilot seated at the front of the plane and two of Bryce’s besuited men in the rear. Not one of them looked at me.
“Noah’s safe.” Bryce’s voice was firm. “I won’t let anything happen to him, you know that. Now get in and put your seatbelt on. We’re taking off.”
“Just where do you think you’re taking me?” I hollered.
Bryce motioned for one of his men, who came forward with a roll of duct tape.
“What the hell’s that for?” My eyes bulged as the guard measured off a piece—just big enough to fit over my mouth—and ripped it from the roll.
“No more talking, or you’ll be wearing that for the rest of the flight.” Bryce sat down and fastened his seatbelt.
I opened my mouth, but when the guard moved closer, I shut it.
“Good.” My husband sounded exhausted. He leaned back against his seat and closed his eyes. “Let’s go. I want to be long gone by the time the feds are on the island.”
“Yes, Sir.” The pilot closed the door and started clicking various switches in the cockpit.
I glared at Bryce, but it didn’t matter: he didn’t bother to open his eyes. I side-eyed the guards, but they wouldn’t look in my direction. The pilot ignored me, starting the engine and checking his various beeping thingies.
“Unfuckingbelievable,” I seethed.
“Chloe.” Bryce’s voice was a warning.
The guard stood up again, duct tape at the ready.
Unfuckingbelievable. I said it inside my head this time.
And then I glared at my husband—my captor—as he promptly fell asleep in his chair.
* * *
The flight was brief, only a few hours. But it was plenty long enough for me to get good and riled up. How dare he? Not only had I left my brother behind, but I’d broken my promise to Gene Windsor. Now I was screwed!
I played Bryce’s words repeatedly in my head: “My father won’t know a thing. He’s being arrested this afternoon, Chloe. He can’t hurt you.” Did my husband know Gene had threatened me? If so, how? And if Gene was being arrested, what did that mean for me?
Bryce slept the whole flight, which was for the best. If he was awake, I’d start yelling at him again, and then it would be duct-tape city. How dare he!
I sat, glowering, as we began our descent.
Once we broke beneath the clouds and saw the sparkling turquoise water, I knew where we were going: Exuma .
Bryce had brought me back to the Bahamas, where we’d spent our’ honeymoon.
’ But it wasn’t really a honeymoon because we weren’t really a couple. We’d been married in name only.
Until that trip. I shivered as the memories washed over me. It was on the remote, gorgeous island that my husband had finally taken me—body, mind, and heart.
I stared out the window. When I turned, I found Bryce awake, watching me. I raised my hand, and he arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Chloe?”
I swallowed hard. “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you and I have a few things to work out. We can talk about it at the house.” He closed his eyes again. I went back to fuming.
We landed, and Bryce motioned for me to go first. He didn’t say a word. He slid his sunglasses back on, effectively shutting me out.
How. Dare. He! I was his prisoner, and he wouldn’t even look at me. WTF? As usual, it was Bryce’s way or the highway.
I’d take the highway, but it wasn’t an option as we were on a remote island in the Caribbean. Grr.
As soon as we got off the plane, I called Dale. “Is Noah okay? Where are you? I’m so sorry, Bryce made me leave—”
“Chloe, hey, of course, he’s okay,” Dale interrupted, soothing me. “We’re still off-island. I won’t bring him back to the house until Gene’s gone and the press follows him. You don’t have to worry. I’ll keep him safe.”
“You knew about this, didn’t you?” I seethed. “You knew he was taking me somewhere?”
“What’s that? You’re breaking up. Sorry, let’s talk later!” Dale hung up, how convenient.
Bryce didn’t say a word to me as we went through customs. All the locals were warm and friendly, greeting us with smiles and wishes for a happy visit. As if!
His driver waited with the Range Rover, a warm smile on the man’s face. “Mr. and Mrs. Windsor, we are honored you’re joining us again. Sit back and relax—vacation begins now.”
“Over my dead body,” I hiss-whispered.
Bryce snorted, then stared out the window. He didn’t touch me.
I didn’t know what to think.
We drove in silence through the island’s small downtown, then pulled up to the Windsor’s private gate. The driver punched in a code. “The staff prepared some special treats for you.” He winked at Bryce in the rearview mirror. “Perfect for a second honeymoon.”
I scowled. Bryce remained expressionless, his sunglasses impenetrable.
The Rover maneuvered down the long private drive.
Finally, we reached the enormous stucco house, the turquoise ocean winking directly behind it.
I remembered every inch of the home—the inside was gorgeous.
It opened into an outdoor living space with a stunning infinity pool that overlooked the white-sand beach.
John, the driver, carried our bags inside.
At least, I hoped one of the bags was mine.
I had nothing but the clothes on my back.
The security team followed him inside, and Bryce turned to me. “We should go for a walk while they make sure everything’s okay.”
I frowned at him. “Do I have a choice about that?”
Bryce glanced back at the driveway, which was about a mile long. “There really isn’t any way out of here.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Kind of like the plane.”
“Kind of.” He didn’t sound sorry as he headed down toward the beach.
I begrudgingly followed, and we stopped to remove our shoes.
Once the cool sand was between my toes, I started to feel a little bit better.
I ignored Bryce and went down to the water, moaning in pleasure as the warm, pleasant surf washed over my feet.
Bryce rolled up his dress pants and did the same, keeping some distance between us. “That feels good.”
I grunted in answer.
Next thing I knew, he’d stripped out of his sunglasses, dress shirt, and pants and did a perfect—of course, it was perfect—dive into the water. When he came up, he wiped his face. He looked better, refreshed. “I know it’s a cliche to say it, but come on in. The water’s fine.”
When I ignored him, he ignored me back. He dove under again. When he resurfaced, he looked like a new man, like the water was some sort of baptism that had cleansed him, making him new again.
I muttered to myself as I took off my tee and my shorts. Thank goodness my husband was a billionaire and had bought me a slew of lingerie, all of it matching. Today I wore a lavender bra and a lacy matching thong—Bryce loved me in a thong.
I dove under, making sure he could take a good look at my ass.
Because that’s all he was going to be doing— looking .
I’d made a promise to Gene Windsor and, more importantly, to myself: I was done with Bryce for good.
I had Noah to think about. Not only that, I loved Bryce enough to stay true to my word. I owed him that much.
But he’d kidnapped me, and he’d threatened to duct-tape my mouth. I loved him enough to protect him, but I was still pissed.
I dove under again, ass high in the air. Take a long look.
That was as close as he was getting.