Chapter 30 #2
“Thank you for accepting the deal despite the impression I must have made. You’ve always been the first choice, Nate—never doubt that.”
After our final goodbyes, I run to Vivienne, pick her up in my arms, and twirl her around from pure happiness. She giggles once in the air, and thankfully, there were no prying eyes in this part of the conference center that could hinder our professional integrity.
Well, aside from the hidden cameras, of course. But I’m sure the security guards have seen way worse.
“I got the deal,” I say when I finally set her down.
Her hands join as though she’s about to clap, but there’s a slight hesitation in the movement before she continues.
It all happens so quickly—the shift from her excitement to her shock—that I can’t help but wonder if she, too, doesn’t want to let us go.
In some ways, we’d accomplished what our deal set out to do.
I got the contract; she's close to finishing her PhD.
There was no real reason for us to keep this going anymore.
Thunder booms in the distance, grabbing our attention. Our heads turn in shock to meet darkened skies from which a downpour quickly follows, wetting the once-dry cobblestone.
“Were we really so preoccupied that we had no idea it was going to rain today?” Vivienne asks as she approaches the large glass doors that lead to the exit.
She’s asking a question she already knows the answer to. We somehow always lose track of time when we’re together.
“Honestly, I’d say this is perfect timing—I’ve always wanted to run in the rain,” I add.
Her lips part in surprise, but I don’t give her the chance to protest as I latch onto her hand and drag her outside.
We run through the heavy rain, thunder booming once again. The streets are empty. The few people outside have opted to take shelter under colorful awnings. But that doesn’t matter to Vivienne and me as we laugh our hearts out.
With one final pull of her hand, she comes crashing into my chest—eyes bright despite her now-smudged mascara and the frizz of her dark brown hair.
I pick her up bridal style and march in the direction of the hotel.
“This is ridiculous, Nate. Put me down!” She protests along with the kick of her feet. But I can’t bring myself to do that with the water accumulating on the ground.
It’s raining too hard, and I can already feel her shivering. One step into one of those puddles, and she’ll get a cold.
Chilled hands. Runny nose. Cold feet.
The last thing I want is for her to suddenly feel unsure about us when I finally suggest the one thing that’s been on my mind.
———
With the push of a foot, the hotel door opens wide. I march straight to the bathroom, set her down on the towel in front of the large bathtub, and turn the hot water on.
“What are you doing?” She asks with a smile, looking down at me as I kneel in front of her.
I slide her shoes off first, placing them to the side before shimmying off the rest of her clothes and wrapping a large, fluffy towel around her shoulders.
“It’s time to warm you up. I can’t have you getting sick on me.” I pour in the bubble mix once the bathtub is a quarter of the way full and watch the water’s surface bloom into foam.
A knock on the door startles us both, and our heads snap toward the sound.
Did I unknowingly order room service?
I mean, it’s happened before.
“Get in,” I tell her. “I’ll be back.”
A look through the peephole confirms my suspicions—no room service, but I open the door nonetheless, checking on either side.
Aside from the low wiring of the ice machine, the hall is completely empty. All except for a manila envelope lying right by my soaked dress shoes, taunting me with the words scrawled in messy handwriting.
Thought I’d do you a favor.
I pick it off the floor, despite the alarms blaring in my head.
“Everything okay?” Vivienne asks, one leg darting out of the foamy water seductively. “I’m waiting,” she singsongs.
A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips, but as much as I’d like to jump in behind her, kiss her senseless, and ask her to really be mine, whatever is in my hands takes priority.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I yell, pulling a thick stack of papers out from within the ominous envelope.
“Sounds good!” Vivienne chirps.
My eyes quickly skim through the words on the pages, confused as to what it is. And then it hit—it’s a plane crash investigation summary. But who sent it? My private investigator has yet to get back to me.
It’s only when I read it over a second time that the information sticks out one by one.
From Pennsylvania to Hawaii.
On a Crawford Model 440B with a small airline as the operator.
The names of the plane’s passengers are all listed, but the two highlighted in bright yellow stand out the most—Johnson Brown and Leslie Brown.
My eyes shoot up to the girl whose head is thrown back against the tub, humming lightly.
Vivienne Brown.
Something is off. Something is very off.
The only other thing highlighted in this document is the reason for the crash—catastrophic structural failure during level flight at cruising altitude (31,000 ft) due to the first commercial use of a novel alloy produced by Crawford Aerospace.
An arrow branches off from that last sentence, and beneath it, Does this sound similar to you? is written in that same messy handwriting that marked the front of the envelope.
My brows pull tightly together, my mind going blank before my heart drops like a mirror shattering against the floor.
Novel alloy. University. Carter running away with my idea before I had time to complete the project.
The papers slip from my hand, landing with a small thud on the ground.
I’m the one who killed Vivienne’s parents.
“Nate. Is everything good out there?” she asks.
I tune her out. I can’t listen to anything. I can’t listen to anyone. I look down at my shaking hands now seemingly drenched in blood.
“Are you still joining me?”
The ringing in my ear intensifies.
What am I going to tell her?
How am I going to explain to her that I’m the reason her parents aren’t here anymore?
Water splashes upward, wetting the bottom half of my white button-up and trousers.
The movement drags my attention back to reality, and it’s then that I notice that I’d walked to the bathroom—standing right in front of the woman I told myself I’d protect at all costs.
“Oops.” Vivienne lifts a hand to her mouth, playfully hiding her smile. “Guess you have no choice but to get in now.”
Lust-filled Bambi eyes look me up and down, and like a robot, I undress. The movement is automatic. Nothing registers. Dazed and confused—there’s no other way to describe it.
“Hey, handsome,” Vivienne teases, a sly smile tugging at her lips.
I should flirt. This is exactly the kind of playful banter Nate Archer lives for—especially when it comes from the woman he’s completely and utterly obsessed with. But I don’t have it in me right now—not with the information I just found out.
Although weak, I give her my best smile, hoping I don’t raise any alarms—even though I’m filled to the brim with them.
“Lean forward so I can slip in.” I motion with my hand, ignoring its tinge of red.
She follows through on my request, and I get in behind her without another word, completely and utterly stunned.
The silence in the bathroom is loud—obvious, piercing—and Vivienne seems to pick up on it immediately, asking the one question I was looking to avoid.