Chapter 22
Charlotte
It should feel like paradise. Instead my pulse jitters with leftover adrenaline from last night’s activities. I swirl a toe in the cool water at the chaise’s edge, then glance at Melanie. Her smile seems genuine but her eyes keep darting to her phone face-down on the side table.
“You keep checking that thing like you’re waiting for the lottery numbers,” I tease, taking a sip of lemonade.
Melanie startles, then forces a laugh. “Old habit. Influencer life means nonstop notifications.” She sets the phone farther away. “Now, spill. You and Asher have been holed up for a while. I’m taking it, he liked the lingerie.”
Heat blooms under my bikini straps. I fiddle with the straw. “That obvious, huh?”
“Oh, honey,” she drawls, “Helen Keller could sense the sparks.”
I laugh but it comes out shaky. Part of me wants to gush—tell her how Asher’s lips felt like a promise, how his hands on my waist turned the whole ballroom into a snow globe with just us inside.
I want to tell her about what happened after the event.
Instead I take the scenic route. “He’s… different.
Solid. When I’m with him, the noise quiets. It’s terrifying and wonderful.”
Melanie pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head, revealing keen hazel eyes. “Ah, I wish I could be in love like that.”
It’s hard to talk to her about how I’m feeling without revealing the truth about us. “You’ll find it one day. It’s out there. I just know it.”
“Maybe.”
A thread of unease coils in my gut. Melanie is usually relentless with teasing, giddy for every romantic detail, yet today she keeps glancing away, fingertips tapping the armrest.
“You okay?” I ask, studying her. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“Me?” She flashes a grin too wide, too quick. “Perfectly peachy.”
“Liar.” I nudge her leg with mine. “Spill.”
She opens her mouth, then closes it and inhales. “It’s nothing big, just… some family drama. I’ll survive.” She waves a dismissive hand but doesn’t meet my gaze.
Before I can press, her phone buzzes with a message that makes her shoulders hitch. She flips it over so I can’t see the screen. The action is small, yet a chill slides along my spine. Something’s off.
Don’t borrow trouble, I tell myself. But the worry lingers.
I swing my legs off the chaise. “I promised Asher I’d meet him in the suite before lunch. He’s turbo-paranoid after the note.”
Melanie sits up, knotting her sarong. “You want me to walk back with you?”
I shake my head. “Stay and enjoy the sun. I’ll text when I’m safe and locked behind Fort Knox.”
“Deal.” She leans over, hugs me tight. “And, Char?”
“Yeah?”
“You deserve whatever good this man brings you. Don’t sabotage it.”
Emotion clogs my throat. I squeeze her hand, then slip into flip-flops and head for the path that winds past tropical planters and up to the main building.
The stone path is hot beneath my soles, cicadas buzzing in the landscaping.
A pair of toddlers toddle past with floaties bigger than their heads; a staff member wheels a linen cart toward the spa.
Ordinary resort bustle. I breathe slower, letting the sun bake worries from my skin.
In ten minutes I’ll be in the suite, Asher’s curt but comforting voice lecturing me about situational awareness.
I round a stand of flowering hibiscus and the pool noise dims behind me.
Up ahead, the service alley between two wings provides a shady shortcut.
I hesitate—Asher’s voice in my head (No side corridors)—but the main lobby entrance is packed with conference attendees right now. The alley saves five whole minutes.
I check my phone, and there’s no new texts. I step into the shade.
The shift from bright sunlight to cool shadow is instant relief—until I sense movement behind me. Footsteps, quick and muffled. I turn, expecting a staff member.
Wade.
He emerges from the hibiscus gap in a slate polo and aviators, his smile venomous. “Charlotte.”
My heart rabbit-kicks. “What do you want?”
“To talk. Without your watchdog.”
I back up two steps. “Not interested.” I thumb my phone awake, ready to dial Asher.
Too late. Wade lunges. His grip clamps my wrist, phone tumbling, skittering across concrete. I suck in a scream as his other hand covers my mouth. I try to fight, but it’s no use.
“Easy,” he hisses, steering me deeper into the alley where a black van idles. The passenger door slides open, and a driver in a ball cap nods. Panic claws my lungs. I twist, and try to bite Wade’s palm. He curses but hauls me up as one of my flip-flops slaps to the ground.
“Let me go!” I manage as the cloth falls. My shout echoes off the stucco walls—too far for anyone to hear. I rake my nails down his forearm, and he shoves me toward the van. Pain flashes in my shoulder as I collide with the metal door.
Inside smells of disinfectant and stale cologne.
I quickly glance around, noticing the bench seats, and no windows.
Wade climbs in after me, slams the door, and the driver hits the gas as the tires spit gravel.
I’m thrown sideways. Ow. I scramble upright as we lurch onto the service road skirting the resort.
Wade yanks zip-ties from his pocket. “Hands.”
“Go to hell.” I kick his shin. He grabs my ankle as agony shoots up my calf, and I yelp. In seconds my wrists are cinched, the plastic biting into my skin. “I hate you.”
He sinks onto the bench opposite, straightening his polo like we’re in a board meeting. “You should have accepted my proposal, Charlotte. Now we’ll do this the hard way.”
Terror hardens into anger. “Kidnapping? Really? Do you think my family won’t notice I’m missing?”
“Of course they will.” He steeples his fingers, his eyes cold. “That’s the point. They’ll pay handsomely to keep their princess safe. And once they pay, they’ll owe me—one signature is all it takes to merge Lane Holdings into Sinclair Group.”
“You’re delusional.” My voice cracks on a bitter laugh.
He shrugs. “So I’ve been told.”
I shift, testing the ties. They’re too tight to slip out. My heartbeat thunders in my ears. “Asher will come for me.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “Your pet mercenary can’t protect you forever.” He reaches over, brushes some hair from my cheek, and I flinch. “But maybe, if you cooperate, no one gets hurt.”
“You’ll never get away with this.”
He just smiles. “We’ll see.” he nods at the driver. “Let’s get to the lake house before anyone realizes she’s missing.”
I swallow bile. I’ve been to this lake house many times throughout the years. It’s secluded. Private. No cell service. Asher won’t have a trail unless someone saw the van leave.
I picture Asher’s steady eyes, his quiet vow: No one touches her on my watch. If anyone can track me, it’s him. I just have to stay alive long enough for him to get there.
I lift my chin, fixing Wade with the calmest glare I can muster. “You’ve already lost.”
He laughs softly. “Darling, the game hasn’t even started.”
The van accelerates onto the highway, the resort disappearing in the rear window slit.
Sunlight flickers, strobe-like, through tree lines, and with every mile I feel the tether to safety stretching thinner.
Still, I hold onto Asher’s phantom presence—his hand at the small of my back, the taste of last night’s kiss—and whisper a silent message into the rushing wind:
Find me. I’m counting on you.