Chapter 18
Eighteen
The measly itemsJordan bought from the store were scattered around the room. Stepping over the shopping bags, I carried an unconscious Jordan into my—no, our—bedroom, piquing my housekeeper’s curiosity about the Sleeping Beauty in my arms. After all, it was my first time bringing a woman to Ilion.
The Canadian province of Nova Scotia had only a handful of major cities. When Halifax, the capital of the province, put together an NHL team, I jumped at the opportunity to move. I was particularly taken by the nearby nautical town, Lunenburg, which had both old-town and modern charms. The picturesque town reminded me of Jordan—bright, blue, charming. I jumped at the opportunity when an estate named Ilion was announced for sale in the heart of the city.
This place had become my solace, and I knew Jordan would love Ilion just as much. After the boat docked, I brought her to the estate, though my housekeeper had raised her eyebrows when I carried Jordan inside. Staff were a hindrance to privacy. I didn’t trust them despite their NDAs, and I doubted they’d turn a blind eye to kidnapping.
I also didn’t want to risk exposing the location of this estate. No one, other than my brother or my cousins knew of this house. It was my well-kept secret, and I didn’t plan to reveal my connection to Ilion or the town of Lunenburg.
I lay Jordan on the mattress before stripping off her clothes. There was something soft and vulnerable about having her naked in my bed. I shook off my clothes as well and slid under the comforter to fulfill one of my milder fantasies from over the years—holding her in my arms.
Jordan wouldn’t be happy to wake up to her new surroundings. Tricking her wasn’t my first choice, but she left me with few options. Perhaps it was my fault for coming on so strong. I knew there’d be some hesitance on her part, but I had assumed she’d come around after seeing all I had to offer. I wasn’t like Henry. Hitting a woman wasn’t in my morals, nor would I humiliate Jordan by flaunting other women or even looking at them. Naively, I thought this connection wasn’t one-sided.
How can she say that she feels nothing for me when I feel so much for her?
I refused to believe my affections weren’t reciprocated, even if those feelings were buried deep inside. She felt something indescribable for me, I knew she did.
It wasn’t a coincidence that Jordan fell into a depression after I left. The years we spent apart took a toll on her, and it wasn’t all because of Henry’s mind games.
Not being with her felt like someone was sucking the life out of me. I identified the same loneliness reflected in her eyes. She missed me the way I missed her.
Despite fighting me, she had become more vibrant over the last few days. There was color on her cheeks, her eyes had come alive, and she had even gained a couple of pounds.
It was obvious that she loved me; missing me took a toll on her body. After the initial shock wore off, I assumed Jordan would be excited about finally being with me. Every other woman threw themselves at me. So, why didn’t she?
The phone on the nightstand chimed. I pulled my fingertips away from the lethargic act of brushing her hair. When I unlocked my cell, numerous texts lit up my screen, most of them from the same man.
Henry: Did you take Jordan out of the country?
The question was straightforward, with barely any hostility. There was little he could do now that we were on international soil, but I had learned never to underestimate Henry Maxwell. It was precisely the reason I decided to sail and sneak Jordan into Canada. As her conservator, Henry would’ve been pinged the moment her passport was scanned for a flight, and he would’ve arrived at the airport to halt her escape.
Henry: Jordan is legally my ward. Taking her outside of America without my permission is illegal.
Henry: You might feel the need to “save” Jordan, but you know nothing of her mental state. Only I know how to handle her. Leave her to me.
I rolled my eyes. Of course, Henry would pull the mentally-unfit card. There was nothing wrong with Jordan’s mental state. She was sharp as a tack and apt at dealing with her clients as well as everyday life. Years of someone telling her she wasn’t good enough and isolating her from the world was the only thing debilitating her mental health.
Jordan would regain her confidence and the cheerful, bright nature Henry had sucked out like a vampire. Extraditing his legal hold was crucial in that regard.
The rest of the messages unmasked Henry’s true concerns.
Henry: We are supposed to host an important dinner for my investors this weekend. It’ll be humiliating if my wife doesn’t attend the party she’s supposed to be hosting.
You should’ve thought about that before you cheated on her, paraded around your mistress, and attacked Jordan.Just the thought had my hands shaking in fury, and I wanted to beat him up all over again.
As expected, my father didn’t acknowledge his fault in the matter. He was only concerned with how it affected him. Jordan was good for business. At these parties, she talked unsure investors into Henry’s newest “revolutionary” inventions. Yet, instead of acknowledging her value, he was adamant that she was mentally unstable.
The deflection and the threatening texts were a ploy to get Jordan back without taking drastic measures. Once the public and the press figured out his wife was no longer by his side, he’d make himself out to be the victim of an unfortunate situation. His need for revenge would escalate because there was only one thing Henry cared more about than his image—his bruised ego.
He’d already bad-mouthed Jordan to her clients and me to my cousins. I spoke to them last night. From the sounds of it, Henry hadn’t told anyone about Jordan fleeing her gilded cage, only about my violent outburst. He made himself out to be some martyr to his bullying son’s unprovoked rage.
They knew Henry was an asshole and didn’t buy the story. Instead, they contacted me to find out what he had done to incite such wrath. I promised to fill them in later, even omitting that Jordan was with me. It was best if no one found out about our relationship until I secured her conservatorship.
But according to Henry’s next thinly veiled message, it was possible that he already knew there was something fishy between us.
Henry: She has thrown her temper tantrum and had her little fun. See to it that she returns home before the party. I need my wife by my side.
I mentally scoffed. More like he needed Jordan’s beauty to charm the investors. Henry was predictable to a fault. Henry would never use her again for his gains or dangle her in front of leering old men.
One last text came through at my nonresponse.
Henry: Don’t force my hand, Alexandros. I’d hate to ruin you for something that’s none of your business.
I only had three words to spare for the man I hated the most in the world.
Xander: Do your worst.