High Stakes: A Dark Romance

Home > Other > High Stakes: A Dark Romance > Page 15
High Stakes: A Dark Romance Page 15

by Roxy Sinclaire


  “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Reese said. “We’re past that point in our lives.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed her on the head. “We should leave soon. Our flight leaves at eight, and we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

  He wheeled Amanda’s small suitcase over to the bed.

  “I’m sure your luggage tag was expensive, but we had to burn everything that could identify you. I can replace it if you want.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m just glad to have my clothes back.”

  Finally, he handed me a small sheet of paper. “I’ve transferred your share of the money to an offshore account. It’s very secure, and the police won’t find it in their investigation. Here’s all the information you need to access it.”

  “Thanks, Reese,” I said, looking at the balance. I had never seen so much money in my life.

  He handed me an envelope that was sealed shut. “I withdrew some cash for you guys to get started. It’s not enough to draw suspicion when going through customs, but it should be enough for you to survive on for the first few months.”

  I squeezed the thick envelope. I tried not to get too excited about my new fortune. I would have to have Amanda teach me about managing my money. I handed the cash over to her. She would be more responsible with it.

  “Shall we, babe?” Abi said, tucking the new passports into her purse.

  “Yeah.” Reese nodded. “It was nice knowing you guys,” he said, shaking my hand again. “Good luck.”

  “You too,” Amanda and I said in unison.

  When they left the room, Amanda slid her arm around my lower back. I rested my arm across her shoulder.

  “Well,” I said, pulling her closer. “It’s just you and me from here on out.”

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said, opening her pack and reorganizing our belongings. “We’ve got plenty of cash, and I’m starving. Let’s have one last meal in America.”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Maybe a burger or a nice, juicy steak.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

  I didn’t want her to carry anything with her injured arm, so I juggled our luggage as she slid our room key across the reception desk and dropped the letter to her parents in the mail. I pulled a baseball cap low over my eyes, and we found a restaurant to kill some time.

  “I can’t believe we’re moving out of the country today,” I said as I took a bite of my bacon cheeseburger.

  “I know. It seems so strange to be moving away from the place I called home the last twenty-six years of my life,” she said. “Is there anything that you regret about your time here?”

  “Absolutely,” I said. “I regret how poorly I treated decent people. I even regret how poorly I treated kind of shitty people. All of my relationships with women were either shallow or selfish. I think you’re the first person I’ve been intimate with that I didn’t use sex as a tool for personal gain.”

  She looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

  “Okay, sure, the first time was admittedly for my personal gain. But, every time after that was all out of affection for you. I didn’t know that feelings had anything to do with it, but the sex with you is infinitely better than it was with anyone else.”

  “That’s comforting to hear,” she said sarcastically.

  “What about you? What do you regret about your life here?”

  “I wish I would have put my needs before others’ more often. I wish I could stick up for myself and take control of my life. But, when I think about it, I’m glad I didn’t do anything differently. Everything in my life aligned perfectly to meet up with you.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” I said, finishing my meal. “I don’t know if I believe that everything happens for a reason, but in this case, it certainly does.”

  Chapter 25―Amanda

  After dinner, Josh and I drove to the airport in silence. I think we were both equally terrified, but we wanted to stay strong for each other. We had made it too far to get caught while going through security. There was just too much that could go wrong.

  My anxious mind listed every scenario in which we could get busted. Any of the hundreds of thousands of travelers at LAX could recognize me from the news and call the police. The person checking the passports could potentially spot a fake and call us in for questioning. The workers checking our bags could randomly search my purse and find an envelope full of cash or one of my possessions that could identity me.

  We hadn’t heard anything from Reese and Abi, so that was a little comforting. If their passports were rejected, we probably would have heard by now. They were also lucky to leave four hours before us because the police could find new developments throughout the evening.

  We parked the car in a long-term parking lot, figuring that no one would think anything of it. Besides, the car was under Ben’s fake ID, so it could only be traced back to him. On the tram to the terminal, Josh held my trembling hand.

  As we walked inside, Josh whispered to me, “Pretend we’re on our honeymoon.”

  “What?” I hissed back. I didn’t like spur of the moment plans. I wasn’t much of an actor, and I didn’t know if I could pull this off.

  “You don’t have to explicitly state to anyone that we are newlyweds, but just pretend like we are.”

  “I can’t do this,” I said, getting frantic.

  He stopped to tie his shoe, letting others pass around him. When he stood up, he put his arm around me and went in for a kiss on the cheek.

  “Calm down,” he said in a soothing voice. “Everything’s okay. I just want you to act natural.”

  “I’m too nervous. I don’t know if I can keep it together.”

  “Right now, I want you to imagine our wedding. It was a gorgeous day at a vineyard, and we spent the day dancing and drinking wine. After the reception, we went back to our five-star villa and made passionate love to each other until the sun came up. For our honeymoon, we’re spending a week in Rome, then returning to our home in Los Angeles.”

  I briefly closed my eyes and pictured everything he told me. I could see myself in a ball gown, walking down the aisle toward a beaming Josh. He would blink his misty eyes as I joined him at the altar, and he’d wipe away my tears while we both giggled.

  We’d have a three-tiered cake, and our friends and family would cheer as we cut our first slice together. Then, we’d take to the dance floor, where we would slowly sway to the music. After a few hours of wild dancing and too much drinking, he’d pick me up and carry me to our limo. We’d roll up the partition and drunkenly fool around in the back seat.

  In our honeymoon suite, we would strip down and crash on the bed, exhausted but excited to be alone with each other. When we had the energy, we’d consummate the marriage and collapse in an exhausted heap in bed.

  We’d wake up late and have brunch delivered to our room. I’d have smoked salmon on a bagel, and Josh would have pancakes and bacon. We’d both drink a few too many mimosas.

  Then, after another quickie, we’d get ready for our honeymoon and catch a taxi to the airport. Our passports would have different names until my name change was finalized, but I couldn’t wait until I was officially Mrs. Joshua Mitchell.

  Suddenly, I felt completely different. As long as I believed in the image he described for me, I felt calm and so in love. For a moment, I didn’t have to be Amanda Halls, kidnapped heiress on the run. I could be a wife, going on an adventure with her new husband. The pressure of performing was taken off my shoulders.

  “Good?” he asked, looking down at me.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Shall we check into our flight, husband?”

  He grinned. “Certainly, my wife.”

  We made it through each checkpoint with no problems. Every time my stomach would clench up and I started to sweat, I would just look at Josh and picture him in his tuxedo and I felt calm again.

/>   The next thing I knew, we were boarding the plane and finding our seats.

  “Have you ever sat in coach before?” he teased.

  “No,” I answered honestly, feeling embarrassed.

  “I’ve never flown at all,” he said.

  “Really?” I gushed. “Are you nervous?”

  “After everything it took to get here, not a chance.”

  “Good. I love flying. It feels so freeing. Besides, if you get scared, I’m sure I can find a way to comfort you.”

  “You’re a dirty girl,” he whispered in my ear, and I gave him a big smooch before the flight attendants came down the aisle for their final check.

  “Let’s behave ourselves,” I said. “I don’t want to get kicked off the flight for indecent exposure.”

  “You’re right,” he said, placing both of his hands on his lap. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can go the rest of the day without touching you. Damn, it’s going to be so hard.”

  We did manage to make it through our flight to Rome without getting handsy with each other. Part of that might have been related to the fact that we were so exhausted, we fell asleep after dinner was served. When I woke up, hours later, I realized that I had used his shoulder as a pillow and had drooled on his sleeve.

  I tried to dry it up before he woke up and noticed how disgusting I was, but my frantic wiping roused him.

  “I’m sorry, that is super gross,” I said. “I hope I haven’t ruined the illusion you have of me.”

  He rested his forehead on mine. “Don’t be silly. We’re going to live together now. I think we’ll eventually realize that neither of us is perfect.”

  “So you don’t think I’m gross? I’m sure I look like a mess right now.”

  “You look perfect. I love you, messy hair, drool stains, and all.”

  The plane was about to land, so the flight attendants started handing out customs forms. After carefully writing down the information from our passports, we both reached the part where we had to write our occupations.

  “What should I put?” I asked. I hardly had a real occupation at home, let alone in Italy.

  “Clothing designer,” he said firmly. “What about me? I can’t write that I’m a career criminal.”

  I thought for a moment. I knew he was charming, so I thought that salesperson could work. Then I thought about what he said about helping me start a boutique, so maybe business owner would work too. Then, when I thought hard about what he could be the best at, I knew.

  “Model.”

  “Yeah? Who’s going to believe that?”

  “Um, literally anybody,” I replied.

  “Fine, then. I guess I’m a model now. The customs workers are going to give me so much shit for this.”

  “I hope they do,” I teased.

  The hours following our arrival were full of nonstop running around the city. We had nothing but our luggage when we got there, so it was a mad dash to complete all of our tasks before the sun went down.

  We scoured the city for a hotel that would let us pay in cash. After checking out five different hotels, we found a cute bed-and-breakfast place that would let us stay for an entire week.

  It was run by a little old lady who hardly spoke any English. We didn’t have time to learn any Italian, so we communicated mostly through smiles and hand gestures. The language was beautiful, though, so I mentally put learning Italian on the list of things I wanted to do once we settled in.

  The city was gorgeous, and I wanted to take in the sights. We still had to find phones, food, and a way to access our bank account. We also needed to start looking for permanent housing, but I would beg Josh to let us start looking the next day.

  Every time I got fed up with running around, not knowing what we were doing, he was patient with me and reminded me why we were doing these things. He put everything into perspective for me, and before we knew it, we were enjoying a giant plate of pasta and a bottle of wine as we watched the sun set.

  Especially after drinking half a bottle of wine, I was more than ready for bed. I even started dozing off at the table.

  “Let’s go back to our room,” Josh said, grabbing my hand. “We’re going to sleep so well tonight.”

  “Do we have to get up early tomorrow?” I asked, my eyes so heavy I could hardly keep them open.

  “We don’t have to do anything we don’t want to do,” he said. “This is the first day of our new lives. We’re finally free now.”

  I held him close as we walked past the beautiful architecture of the city. We would have so much time to see everything the country had to offer.

  On our way down the street, we passed a tiny souvenir shop and I stopped abruptly.

  “Can we go in, just for a second?” I asked Josh. He gave me a confused look, but he followed me inside.

  It took me all of ten seconds to find what I was looking for. I picked a generic postcard, paid for postage, and scrawled a short message. I addressed it to my parents and showed it to Josh before I popped it in the mailbox.

  Maybe I would be able to keep in contact with my parents and friends that I’d left behind in Texas. Maybe we would even be able to return there and I could introduce everyone to Josh. I didn’t have any time line for how long we would need to stay in hiding, but I wasn’t too eager to reveal my secrets just yet.

  Holding onto each other, we made our way back to the quaint hotel, the message I wrote to my parents echoing in my head.

  All is well.

  Epilogue―Amanda

  On our two-year anniversary of both being a couple and living in Rome, Josh surprised me by having flowers delivered to me at work. In the note, he wrote that I should put on my sexiest dress and be ready to leave our apartment at eight for dinner. I loved that after a couple of years of being together, he could still surprise me.

  To be perfectly honest, I was so busy at work that I completely forgot about our anniversary altogether. I knew that he didn’t really care about this kind of stuff, but I still felt bad about forgetting. To make up for it, I went to the bathroom and snapped a sexy picture for him. I knew how excited that sort of thing got him.

  My career in fashion got off to a slow start, but once I broke into the business, things were happening quickly. The first few months here were pretty hard. I applied for as many internships and apprenticeships as I could, but I got a lot of rejections. I was out of practice, and the language barrier didn’t help either.

  But, with Josh’s support, I kept working on my designs and eventually landed a spot working with a new designer. He had started a small label in Australia, but he moved to Italy to be closer to some of the European fashion capitals. Initially, I started out as his assistant, but I worked my way up to the point where I collaborated on a line with him that went to Milan Fashion Week.

  The recognition from Fashion Week put me in contact with other major fashion houses in the country, but I decided to start my own label instead. With the money from the ransom, Josh and I bought the apartment we dreamed about back when we were on the run. I have a workshop and a small boutique where I sell my designs, and we live upstairs in our flat. It’s small, but it’s home.

  With my parents’ money, I hired on a few employees, but Josh and I do most of the work. It’s fairly common for me to wake up and start working at six in the morning, not returning to the apartment until midnight. It’s a ton of work, but it’s the most fun I’ve ever had in my life.

  Josh was busy with his own work, too. After he helped me out by modeling my work, I urged him to get in contact with modeling agencies here. It took some convincing, but he was signed by the first big agency he visited. It was no surprise for me, though. He has the perfect body and face for any type of campaign.

  While I was sad that his work kept him busy and away from my shop, I was so proud of him. For once, he was doing something that he enjoyed, and it was all completely legal. He was starting to make decent money, and my business was taking off too. We still relied on our ransom money, bu
t everything was going well for us.

  Josh had managed to contact Reese and Abi, and we kept in touch fairly regularly. With everything that had happened since we got to Rome, we had almost forgotten about them. However, when Ben was in the news, Josh scoured the Internet for any trace of Reese and managed to find him.

  They were still living in Amsterdam and loved it. Abi had decided to go back to school and get her doctorate in Art History. She decided that she wanted to become a professor and finally had the cash on hand to make it work.

  Reese had spent the past few years writing a screenplay loosely based on my kidnapping. It was part action film, part romance, with the details changed so we couldn’t get arrested for it. He even sent us an early draft to make notes on, and it was good. He was a talented writer with a knack for telling a compelling story. I wasn’t surprised at all when he emailed us to announce that he had sold it to a major studio.

  When Ben was charged with my kidnapping, Josh and I were worried that the police would eventually catch up with us. We made plans to flee the country if we got word that people were looking for us, but it never happened. The prosecutor wanted to charge him with murder, but because there was no body, they couldn’t.

  Of course, some reports did say that Reese, Abi, and Josh were involved, but Reese and Abi had solid alibis. Police couldn’t track Josh down for questioning because there was very little evidence that he ever existed in Vegas. His name wasn’t on any lease. He didn’t have any credit cards, and he never had a legitimate occupation. On the other hand, Ben’s DNA was all over the scene, and detectives eventually got him to confess to kidnapping, though he always maintained his innocence for the murder.

  Shortly before eight, Josh ran into our apartment, wearing a beautifully fitting navy suit. His hair was expertly styled and his outfit showed off his perfect body.

  “Did you just get done with your shoot?” I asked, putting the finishing touches on my makeup.

  “Yep. I even convinced them to let me borrow the suit for the night.”

  “Probably because they’re getting free work out of you. You look incredible.”

 

‹ Prev