28. Stuart
STUART
I’ve put my plan for a grand gesture into motion, and so far, so good. Step one is done.
For step two to work, I need to find Brooke. I had the PR team send her an extravagant red gown with feathers to make it easier to spot her tonight. Of course, she thinks it came from the PR firm. Otherwise, I was afraid she wouldn’t accept it.
She must be here somewhere. I thought I saw her across the ballroom. But when I looked again, she was gone.
I have the whole PR team, security, and valets looking for her. The valets assured me that they saw her arrive, and she hasn’t left.
I’m hoping to spot her red dress as I wander through the various rooms and outdoor areas. But with hundreds of guests and dozens of rooms in this mansion, it won’t be easy to find her.
As I walk along the poolside patio, two women approach. One is wearing a royal-blue gown. The other is in emerald green. Both are fit and attractive—the type that would usually capture my attention. Tonight, however, I’m fully focused on finding Brooke.
The one in blue says, “Excuse me, you’re Lord Sandridge, correct?”
“I am.”
“Could we have a moment?”
“I’m in a bit of a hurry,” I say.
The other quickly replies, “Just a minute, please. It’s about Brooke.”
“Do you know where she is? I’ve been looking for her.”
“You probably won’t recognize us with our masks, but I’m Lowri, and this is Cassie from Brooke’s law firm. We met you at the movie premiere.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“It’s none of our business, but if you care about Brooke at all, you need to apologize for saying there’s no one special in your life.”
I nod. Evan and Sean were right. I’m a bloody idiot.
“I know. I’m trying to find her to make it right. Where is she?”
“The last time we saw her, she was looking at the jewelry.”
“Where did she go from there?”
“I think she headed down the side hall toward the staircase,” Cassie says.
“Okay. I’ll search there again.”
“Do you really care about her?” Lowri asks.
“I do.”
“Then make it right with her. She deserves the best,” Cassie says.
“I know.”
They nod and walk away as I turn, hurrying back into the mansion.
I quickly walk past the staircase and encounter three choices. I can continue forward, turn right, or turn left.
I’ve only walked a few steps to the right when I hear someone behind me say, “Broadmoor wants us to move her to the basement. He’s worried she’ll wake up and someone will find her before the guests leave.”
Why is Broadmoor worrying about a woman waking up? Could it be Brooke? Rage burns inside my chest from fear that Brooke may be in danger.
I stay hidden and continue listening.
“How does he expect us to carry a woman through the house without someone noticing?”
“If anyone sees us, just say she had a little too much to drink. These wealthy fucks always drink too much. It shouldn’t be an issue.”
My hands clench at the disrespect and callousness of these arseholes.
I hear a click as a door opens. Peeking around the corner, a door in the wall under the staircase is ajar. A couple of minutes later, one of the guys comes out with a woman in red tossed on his shoulder in a fireman carry.
My muscles tense, and my pulse races. I sent Brooke a special red dress to wear. But it still may not be her across the man’s shoulder. Lots of women are wearing red tonight. Surely, it’s not her.
I take the chance to peer around the corner again. Seeing the feathers, I know it’s my Brooke. How dare he have his hands on her, and why isn’t she protesting? Is she not able to?
Disbelief turns to anger and urgency, the likes of which I’ve never felt before. Immediately, I begin formulating a rescue plan.
My instinct is to confront them, but the burly security guards are armed with guns.
I can’t risk them hurting her or taking us both hostage.
So, I pull back into my hiding spot as soon as they start walking.
When their footsteps near the hall where I’m hiding, I quickly turn my back and walk away, staggering as if completely pissed.
When the footsteps fade, I turn back, torn between confronting them immediately, which would be my preference, versus following them.
The rational part of my brain remembers that they mentioned leaving her in the basement. If they do, I should be able to rescue her from there without putting her at risk.
I should notify the people in charge, but I have no clue who I can trust. Based on the conversation between the two guards, they are in on some criminal venture with Mr. Broadmoor. For all I know, the PR company is involved as well.
Until Brooke is safe, I’m not taking any chances.
Ten minutes later, I’ve secured a knife from the kitchen. With the weapon tucked inside my tux jacket, I locate the stairs to the basement.
Quietly, I walk down the steps. Reaching the bottom, I stop to listen at the door. There’s no sound, so I slowly push it open; thankfully, it’s unlocked.
Scanning the area, I flinch at the sight, my stomach dropping.
A dim light illuminates the outline of Brooke’s lifeless body, lying on the cold concrete floor.
I’m too late.
I should have confronted the men before they did this to her. I can’t believe I let them murder the only woman I’ve ever loved.
Overcome with fear and guilt, sweat dots my forehead as I hurry to her side, needing to hold her.