by Alexa Wilder
I managed to squeak out a ‘Yes’ as tears welled in my eyes. Dylan slid the ring on my finger as he stood, pulling me into his arms. I lifted my head, meeting his lips with mine. His kiss was fierce, possessive, and filled with love. On the other side of the bar, I heard the pop of a champagne bottle opening. Two glasses clinked beside us.
Dylan let me go just long enough to pick up my champagne and hand it to me. I discretely wiped lipgloss from my lower lip, but ignored the champagne in favor of checking out my ring.
It was huge. I didn’t know enough about jewelry to guess at the carat weight, but I knew big from small. This was bigger than big, just on the classy side of too much. Set in platinum, I was sure Dylan would have chosen the more expensive platinum over white gold, the ring had a large, round, brilliantly clear center diamond surrounded by a geometric bezel frame decorated with small diamonds, set in a pave band with yet more small diamonds. It was almost blinding as it sparkled on my hand.
I had a habit of complaining to Dylan when he spent too much money on me. Four months hadn’t been enough to break lifelong habits of sensible economy. But I wasn’t going to say a word about what this ring must have cost. I knew Dylan too well to think he’d get anything less than the absolute best for my engagement ring.
Raising my eyes to his, I said, “It’s beautiful. I love it. And I love you.”
“Maybe this wasn’t the most romantic place to propose,” he said, again sounding a little uncertain. Was it possible even the mighty Dylan Kane got a little off balance where marriage was concerned? To stop him from worrying I raised a finger and pressed it to his lips.
“No,” I said. “This is the perfect place. Who would have thought when I was crying into my drink that I’d end up here, in love with the most wonderful man in the world, ready to spend the rest of my life with him.”
That must have been the right thing to say because Dylan’s uncertainty vanished. He scooped me up into his arms and turned for the exit, saying over his shoulder,
“Have the champagne sent up to the penthouse, but tell them to leave it in the hall.”
“Are we skipping our dinner reservations?” I asked, my lips moving against the warm skin of Dylan’s neck.
“We don’t have any. That was a lie to get you to the bar. We’re having dinner delivered. Later. Much later. For now, I have a covered plate of appetizers and a very empty bed.”
I shivered in his arms. It was just like that first night when he’d lured me from the bar with the promise of food and fed me savory treats, seducing me with his eyes and his words. Except that time, we’d had to rush out after only a kiss. Not tonight. Tonight we had all the time in the world to be together. We had the rest of our lives.
1
Chloe
I lay on the couch reading a book on my tablet; the screen dimmed so the light wouldn’t give me away. Beside me, a mug of tea steamed, scenting the air with herbs and flowers. I was trying to relax. Tea, a good book, sacking out on the couch. I should have been totally chilled.
Instead, every muscle in my body was tense. The house was brand new, but each creak sent shivers down my spine. I wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was. I’d left the lights off, sneaking around in the shadows to set up my sleeping bag on the couch and brewing my tea using the built-in hot water spout in the kitchen. Dinner had been a drive-through burger and fries, the now empty bag sitting on the floor beside me.
The idea had been to hide out, try to calm down somewhere safe, and then figure out what to do. So far, it wasn’t working. I’d taken care of the hiding out somewhere safe part. At least I hoped I had. No one who might be looking for me would be looking here.
As far as figuring out what to do? I had no clue. It wasn’t even my mess I was running from. It was my baby brother’s. I’d been taking care of him our whole lives. It had been suggested to me, more than once, that maybe it was time to stop. But he was my brother. My only real family. I wouldn’t turn my back on him.
The glare of headlights flashed across the front windows of the two story house, sending terror crashing through me. No one should be here. There weren’t any residents in this neighborhood. It was a new construction community, and I was squatting in the model home.
A truck pulled into the driveway and idled. Struggling to catch my breath, I slid off the couch and moved to hide behind its bulk. Should I try to sneak out the back door? I’d parked a few streets away so my car in the drive wouldn’t be obvious, and I’d have to pick my way across the construction site in the dark. But that was preferable to facing the people looking for me.
Suddenly my bright idea about hiding in the model home didn’t seem like such a good plan. I was completely isolated, surrounded by acres of mud and silent construction vehicles. No one to hear me scream. No one to help.
The silence of the truck shutting off, followed by the heavy thunk of a door closing had my heart thundering in my chest. What to do? I crab walked backwards into the kitchen and slid across the hardwood floor to hide behind the island. The houses here all had open floor plans. Attractive and practical unless you were trying to hide.
I lost the chance to make a run for the bedrooms when the front door swung open and the lights flipped on. Whoever was here had a key, then. That improved my chances a lot. At the realization of who it must be, my heart calmed, then sank.
Taking a risk, I peaked out around the side of the kitchen island to see who was at the front door. In the glare of the lights I saw a tall figure with broad shoulders, long legs, a lean waist, and a familiar shock of messy blond hair. Sam. Before I could stand up to reveal myself, he spoke.
“I already called the police, so I suggest you get your ass out here and explain yourself before you get arrested.”
I jumped to my feet, wishing with all my heart that I wasn’t wearing my now very wrinkled suit. It was bad enough that Sam was way out of my league. He didn’t need to see me looking like I’d been sleeping in my work clothes.
“Sam, it’s me. Don’t call the police.”
“Chloe?” he said in surprise. Belatedly I noticed he held a gun at his side, his arm tense and ready. He lifted the gun and did something to it before he shoved it in his waistband behind his back. “What the hell, Chloe? I could have shot you.”
“I didn’t know you had a gun,” I said. Not really the point. And kind of a dumb thing to say, but my head was spinning. For a moment, while he was holding that gun, he hadn’t looked like my Sam at all. He’d been menacing. Scary.
“Yeah, I have a gun,” he said. “And I didn’t call the cops. I called Axel. Hold on a sec. And don’t move,” he barked when I turned to go back to the couch.
He was angry. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Sam angry. At least not at me. Sam never got mad at me. Not wanting to piss him off further, I stayed where I was, between the kitchen and the living room, and watched him make a call.
“It’s me,” he said, scowling in my direction. “Don’t worry about it. It was Chloe.” A pause. “I have no idea, but I’m going to find out. Yeah, later.”
Shoving the phone in his pocket, he pointed to the couch and said, “Sit.” I did.
“Did you forget that I had an alarm put on the gate and the spec houses after we had those problems with vandalism last month?” he asked.
Damn it. I had forgotten. Normally, as Sam’s assistant, I would have set up something like that, but one of Sam’s best friends was Axel Sinclair, who ran the western division of Sinclair Security. Sam had taken care of the arrangements himself. And since I was rarely on site without Sam, it had slipped my mind. Deciding to keep my mouth shut for the moment, I said nothing.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at your apartment? What happened? Chloe, are you alright?”
At the open concern in his last question, I burst into tears. I could have held out against anger, but I had no defenses against worry. Not from Sam. I clapped my hands to my eyes trying to stem the flow of tears and calm my hitching br
eaths when I heard him swear and get up. A moment later he was sitting beside me, pulling me into his arms.
My head fell against his chest and I melted, giving up for the moment on trying to be strong. Sam was here. As long as Sam was here, I was safe. At least for right now.
I’d been Sam Logan’s assistant for three years and had been head over heels in love with him for almost all of them.
Sam was smart. Handsome in a way that meant he looked equally good dressed for the construction site as he did in a suit. And he couldn’t have been less interested in me. He was a great boss. A good friend. And I knew he cared about me. He had to, otherwise why would he be sitting here letting me cry all over him? But he’d never love me.
I knew that. I’d watched him date a succession of tall, slender, dramatically beautiful women over the years in a series of casually monogamous relationships. And having seen every one of his girlfriends up close at one time or another, I knew why he’d never look at me.
I was a nice person. I was loyal, caring, and fun. But I wasn’t tall, skinny, or beautiful. I guessed I was pretty enough. I’d had a few boyfriends who seemed to think so.
My hair and my skin were my best features. My skin was smooth and almost pore less. I’d tell you what moisturizer I use, but it wouldn’t help since it’s been this way my whole life, no matter what I put on it. And while my hair was a boring light brown, it was shiny, with curl and body. The rest of me was a bit of a let down. If I was feeling generous, I’d call myself curvy. Very curvy. Most days I just felt plump. And I was kind of short. If you picture the opposite of Sam’s tall, slender, model girlfriends, you’d get me.
So we were friends, but that was all we’d ever be. Most days I was okay with that. I really hadn’t dated much in the past two years, once I finally admitted to myself how I felt about Sam, because every other man just didn’t measure up. Right then, terrified and tucked safely into Sam’s arms, I wasn’t regretting that he’d never love me. I was just grateful he was there.
When I’d run from the back patio of my apartment and snuck to where I’d parked my car on the street, I’d considered going to Sam. But I’d thought he’d said he’d be out tonight. And I didn’t want to tell him what was going on until I had a chance to think it through myself. Too late for that now.
My tears gradually faded, and I forced myself to pull away from the heat of Sam’s arms. He smelled like spice and citrus. Masculine and strong. Sexy. I wiped at my face and told myself to focus. Yes, Sam is hot. I know that. I see him every day, and every day he’s hot. It was not the time to get distracted by how good he looked. And smelled.
Trying to get a little distance, I stood and moved to sit in the arm chair facing the couch. Sam scowled at me again.
“Tell me what’s going on Chloe. Now,” he said, clearly out of patience.
“Nolan is missing,” I admitted. “He didn’t come home Saturday night, and he’s not answering his phone. I thought maybe he was just-”
“Being typically irresponsible?” Sam said in a dry tone.
Sam wasn’t a big fan of my brother. He thought Nolan needed to grow up and stop leaning on me. Sam was probably right. But he didn’t understand our relationship. I ignored Sam’s comment and went on.
“I got home after work tonight a little later than usual and I had to park a few spots away. I was going in the back because it was closer and I had groceries when I saw people in my apartment. I almost went right in because I thought they might be with Nolan. But then I saw one of them holding a gun.”
It had been dizzying, the sway between relief that Nolan was home and shock that there were strangers with weapons in my little apartment.
“I listened to them for a few minutes. They were looking for Nolan. But then they said they wanted to take me in, too.”
“Take you in where?” Sam demanded, sitting up straight on the couch.
“I don’t know. They had accents, and it was hard to understand what they were saying.”
“Did you get a good look at him? At any of them?”
“Not really, I was outside on the patio, trying to stay out of sight behind the blinds. There were three of them. Tall. Dark hair. The one with the gun talked the most.”
“What kind of accent?”
“I’m not sure. European. Not French or Spanish. Maybe Russian. Something Eastern European, I think.”
“Fuck. Are you sure?”
“No,” I said, suddenly annoyed.
I’d done the best I could, but I’d been confused and then scared shitless when they’d said they’d settle for taking me if they couldn’t get Nolan. It hadn’t occurred to me to stick around and see what else I could find out. I’d turned and run back to my car as quietly as I could, glad I’d left my purse and briefcase in the back seat.
“Sorry, Chloe. I’m just worried. This doesn’t sound like one of Nolan’s usual fuck-ups.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Normally I’d bristle at Sam referring to Nolan’s occasional issues as ‘fuck-ups’. Nolan had made a few mistakes. In the two years he’d been living with me in Vegas, he’d had a DUI and almost lost his license for reckless driving. Helping him with that one had taken a chunk out of my savings. He’d also been fired from two jobs before he’d landed one at the tech start-up where he was currently working. Or had been until a few weeks ago. I’d called Monday morning to find out if he was there, only to hear that he’d been let go almost a month before.
My brother was smart. He was also impulsive and restless. I loved him, but even I could admit it was past time for him to grow up. Before that could happen, I had to find him. Sam pulled his phone back out of his pocket and started to dial. Alarmed, I said,
“Stop, who are you calling?”
“Axel,” he said, looking at me as if I was a little slow. Of course he’d be calling Axel.
“You can’t call Axel.”
“Why not?” Sam asked, starting to look exasperated.
2
Chloe
Why not? I knew Axel, at least professionally. Axel was scary. He was very good at his job, the mix-up at the Delecta the month before not withstanding. If I wanted to find Nolan, he’d be the first person to call. But I had a bad feeling about what Nolan might be mixed up in. And if Axel got involved I’d lose control over what was going on. I wanted to protect my brother, even from himself. Axel might not have the same priorities.
“Fine,” Sam said, agreeing a little too quickly for me to think he was going to let it go. I worked side by side with the man. I knew that one of his tactics when he wasn’t getting his way was to pretend to give up, then come back at the problem from another direction. But I’d play along for now.
“I just need to figure out where he is,” I said.
“Forget about your brother for a second,” Sam said. “I want to talk more about the part where they wanted to take you even if they couldn’t find him.”
“That’s all I know,” I said. “I pretty much ran right after that.”
“That’s probably the only smart thing you’ve done tonight.”
“Hey!” I said. I knew I hadn’t thought things through as well as I could have, but that was just rude.
“I’m sorry Chloe, but you’re an intelligent woman. I’ve seen your brain in action. And where your dumb-ass brother is concerned, you lose all common sense.”
“That’s not true.” It was. I knew it was. Nolan was my soft spot and my weakness. And if that was so, how much of his current problems were my fault? Maybe if I’d been harder on him… I shut off those thoughts. They weren’t going to do me any good until I tracked down my brother.
“It is true,” Sam insisted. Standing, he said, “Get your things, we’re going home.”
“I can’t go home, they’re looking for me there.”
“Not your apartment, my house. You’re coming home with me. I have Axel’s best security. And I can keep an eye on you while we figure out what to do about Nolan.”
“
Sam, I appreciate the offer, but I can’t come home with you. It’s not appropriate. I work for you. What about your Dad?”
It was stupid to protest. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go that would be as safe as Sam’s house. My best shot had been the model home, but it was clear Sam wouldn’t let me stay there. I just didn’t think I could deal with the intimacy of being in Sam’s house. Living with him. Seeing him all of the day instead of just most of it.
I knew I was heading for a broken heart, and it got worse every day I stayed and worked for him. I should have left and found another job. One that was just work, with a boss who was only my boss. But I hadn’t been able to bring myself to leave Sam. Not yet. If I gave in and stayed in his house, I had a feeling it would only push my feelings to the breaking point faster.
“Chloe, Dad loves you. He won’t mind you being there. And it’s a huge house. We have plenty of room for you.”
“But I don’t want anyone at work to think-”
“Chloe, it’s my company. We can do whatever we want.”
“Maybe you can,” I said. “But everyone will say-”
“What, that there’s something going on? Chloe, they all know us better than that. You’re too professional to get involved with me.”
“And you’d never fool around with your secretary,” I said. “But people still love to gossip.”
“First, you’re my executive assistant, not my secretary. Secretary sounds so nineteen-fifties. And second, your safety is more important than office gossip. We come and go together all the time. No one will think anything of it.”
Of course they wouldn’t. They’d probably assume I’d sleep with Sam in a heartbeat because who wouldn’t? But Sam was right, no one would assume he was sleeping with me. And we did come and go together at all hours. I accompanied him to a lot of his meetings, often early and on site, meaning we’d arrived at the office together more than once.