Chapter Three - Joshua
CHAPTER THREE
Joshua
I throw my remaining wine back like a shot and gaze at the unconscious girl on the couch.
Well, that is not how I expected the night to go.
I replay the last ten minutes in my head, surprised by my lack of control over the situation. The plan had been simple: get in, get her, get out.
I’d only been inside the apartment for five minutes before I decided that I was not going to follow that plan.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it to see a sixth missed text from Ryder Bates, my underboss.
Ryder: In place. Ready whenever you are.
Ryder: Waiting for your signal.
Ryder: Everything okay in there?
Ryder: Moreno.
Ryder: What the hell is going on?
Ryder: Coming in.
The last was sent less than a minute ago, and I force myself out of my trance to open the door before he knocks it down. When I swing it open, my right-hand man is stomping toward me, wearing a mix of relief and annoyance.
“What took so long?”
He follows me into the apartment, taking in the girl on the couch and the shattered glass on the floor.
“The conversation was useful, so I let it play out.” I shrug like it’s no big deal, but even I notice how tightly wound I am. “I’ll get to work on the kitchen. You clean up the glass. I don’t want anything left behind.”
Ryder nods and gets to work without another word.
I wipe down dishes and anything else my fingerprints touched, then collect all garbage, but my thoughts are consumed by the girl on the couch.
Elise Consoli.
I’d known that she was attractive, but seeing her in person was nothing like I imagined. For as egotistical and malicious as her father is, I’d expected her to be the same, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
She’s shy, soft-spoken, easily flustered, and innocent.
So innocent.
I wasn’t lying when I told Ryder that the conversation was useful. Elise lied all through dinner, and each time was an opportunity to read her. She’s a horrible liar with obvious tells—avoiding eye contact, shoulders tensing, and over-explaining.
Which is how I knew she was telling the truth about never having had a boyfriend.
What kind of twenty-three-year-old has never been kissed? Especially one that looks like her? There’s no way no one has ever tried to take her out.
But damn, her inexperience makes her that much more enticing.
Just knowing my lips are the only ones that have touched hers is enough to make me want more—not to mention the giant middle finger it will be to her father when he has her back and finds out that I’ve tainted her.
“Done in here,” Ryder says, interrupting my thoughts as he comes into the kitchen. “I’ll get her ready while you finish this.”
“You do this. I’ll deal with Elise.” My voice is perfectly indifferent, but Ryder still hesitates before he nods and takes the trash bag from me.
I ignore his silent question as I make my way to the living room.
And there she is.
Her tan skin is still tinted pale from when I called her by her real name. She’d been terrified, but now that her features have fallen into perfect relaxation, I let my eyes linger.
She looks different from her brothers, but there are enough similarities to assure me of their relation. Her eyes are a deep brown, unlike their green, and her face is rounder, too.
Still, the way she holds herself—with confidence her words rarely reflect—is all her father. Even her voice, though softer than the men in her family, is effortlessly compelling. I’ve only met Gabriel Consoli a few times, but the resemblance is uncanny.
And if my intel is correct, he’ll do anything to get her back.
I pick up the bag Ryder dropped by the door when he came in and grab the rope stashed there.
I keep the binds on her wrists loose enough that I don’t have to worry about her circulation, and after a moment of deliberation, I decide against restraining her legs.
Even if she happens to wake up, she’s not going anywhere.
The possessive side of me relishes that fact.
When Ryder walks out of the kitchen carrying the trash bag, I wait for him to make a comment about the lack of effort I put into getting Elise ready to go, but he smartly keeps his mouth shut.
I pass him a pair of gloves and slip my own over my hands. “We’ll leave in a few hours when her neighbors are asleep. In the meantime, let’s take a look around. I don’t think Consoli would’ve left anything here, but I want to be sure.”
With a nod, he disappears down the hall.
I take my time looking through the trinkets on the shelves around the living room. Several fake potted plants line the bottom shelf, and a row of worn books rests above it. I scan the titles—mostly classics—and wonder if she enjoys reading them or if she just likes to collect antiques.
A small spinning globe and a picture of a vineyard occupy the next shelf, and I recall how her expression deflated when I asked her why she couldn’t travel. Of course, I knew, but watching her answer was enough to know she isn’t a fan of her confined lifestyle.
There are no family pictures in her apartment. I wasn’t expecting a family gallery, but this apartment looks more like a model that would be shown to potential residents. There’s nothing personal about the décor.
I’m sure this was done for a reason. After all, pictures of her family would conflict with her story about living with her aunt. Still, I wonder what this place would look like without the limits.
It almost makes me feel bad for what I’m about to do.
Almost.
The car door slams shut behind me, and I turn to glance at Elise lying peacefully in the back. We originally debated whether or not to drug her, but I’m glad we did. Since we would’ve taken her either way, this is easier for everyone.
Ryder wordlessly climbs into the passenger seat, and I put the car in drive, leaving a spotless apartment behind us.
After thirty minutes, we pull onto the runway, where the private plane awaits us. I park the car, but neither of us moves to get out.
I ignored his brooding and questioning glares the whole ride, but I’m not about to let it follow us onto the plane.
“What?” I snap.
He doesn’t waste our time. “What happened in the apartment?”
“I already told you.”
“You didn’t tell me everything.”
“You don’t need to know everything.”
“You took two hours to do a job that should’ve taken less than one.”
“And I have more information for it.”
“So, nothing happened?”
“What are you really asking?”
Ryder squares his shoulders. “Did you screw her?”
I bark a laugh. “You’re kidding, right?”
His expression is unchanging. “You didn’t touch her then?”
Well, that’s a different question.
I try not to make a habit of lying to Ryder, but that doesn’t mean he needs to know what happened in that apartment.
So, I opt to stay silent.
Contrary to the glares I’ve been getting all night, Ryder’s chuckle fills the car. When I look to the passenger seat, I find a rare smile from my usually expressionless friend.
“What?”
“Gabriel Consoli is going to kill you.”
And despite myself, my lip tugs upward. “He’s sure as hell going to try.”