“Everything okay there, Ivy? You’re kind of pale.”
“Ivy . . . baby . . . you okay?” At Noah’s frantic question, I look over to him.
Jaw clenched from my renewed fury, I nod curtly.
His eyes flash with sympathy and he reaches over to clasp one of my fisted hands.
He knows. We don’t have to verbally communicate it. He feels what I’m feeling. My rage is his own.
“Since before you two met, you've been in my line of sight for longer than I care to admit.” Her laughter is diabolic, creeps me the hell out.
“What are you bloody talking about?” Noah snaps, but the way he stares at me makes it obvious that his mind is spinning as fast as mine is.
Since before we even met?
Oh. My. God. Is she saying that . . . that . . .
Was it all orchestrated? Us meeting? Being brought together?
I refuse to think about it. I can’t. The implications threaten to make my mind snap in half.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, that comment goes through my head again. Help the chap out and stop being a whore.
Eyes wide, I try to make my voice cooperate, but it won’t.
“I think it’s finally time that you both understand the truth.”
“What truth?” Noah snaps, rising off the bed.
A laugh is the only response he gets.
“Answer me!”
“Noah,” I whisper, remembering damn well what happened the last time we lost our temper with her.
“Do you really want to know? I don’t think you can handle it, now that I think about it.”
“Stop playing your bullshite games. You want us to know.”
“Hm . . . Someone’s been analyzing me, I see.”
Too late, Noah realizes his mistake. I see it in the widening of his eyes. In a moment of hot temper, he gave himself away.
“Fine. If you must know, I’ve allowed her to live longer than I should have. It’s time to remedy that.”
CHAPTER 22
Our captor’s words set off an immediate reaction in Noah. In the blink of an eye, he’s lifting me from the bed to hold me in his arms as he faces off with the speaker. “You aren’t laying a hand on her.”
The deadly menace in that growl is unmistakable.
“That’s the problem with you, Noah. You don’t understand.”
Noah’s arms tighten around me. I welcome his touch, although I’m no longer the same woman I was mere hours ago.
I’m not afraid anymore. Cautious, yes, but fuck the panic. Me and my man need to get out of here, and the only way we’re going to do it is by staying calm enough to come up with a plan.
“I can do whatever—the—hell—I—want—to—her.”
“What the hell do you want from me to leave her alone?”
I jerk at Noah’s question. “Baby, no—”
“That’s the thing, Noah. I don’t need anything from you. I already have what I need—both of you here, at my submission, after years of putting it all together.”
I freeze at that statement, at her gloating tone. Something pricks at my memory, a conversation from a while ago . . .
Three years ago . . .
“It’s funny how I practically handed you that account, and now they want to throw a fit because I had to step in for one tiny part of the project.”
I ignore my annoying boss, searching through the cloud drive for the files we need. God knows where she saved them. Reality is, I had an emergency and Noah’s business partner called, panicking about the files.
Apparently, she didn’t see Noah’s email that it was all taken care of. And since I wasn’t in the office at the time, that dimwit over by her desk jumped in and made a mess of things.
“It isn’t fair,” Valerie continues ranting, while I’m the one forced to sit here, on my laptop, searching for these stupid files she somehow misplaced. “You know how long it took me to even secure this account? Years. Years of putting it all together, only to have Noah hand it all to you just like that.” She snaps her fingers.
Jesus Christ. That all happened a year ago and she’s still harping on it?
Noah calling my name pulls me out of it. As quick as I can, I school my expression, even though my heart’s beating like a war drum inside my chest.
Something he feels against his own. His light blue eyes narrow with worry but he doesn’t say anything.
“Look at how pathetic she is. Can’t even handle the sight of a little blood without her mind constantly snapping.”
I don’t answer. Her believing I’m mentally weak and shattered is to my advantage.
Noah, however, doesn’t realize this. “What is it with you and your bloody obsession with insulting her? Lay the fuck off Ivy.”
I dig my nails into Noah’s pec, willing him to please shut up. I understand that I’m his weakness. If she were constantly attacking him, I probably wouldn’t be able to control myself either.
But we have to find a way. Goading her isn’t going to end well for us, especially when it’s exactly what she wants.
“How about a little respect for your savior?”
“Mothefucking barmy bitch,” Noah growls under his breath, and I can do nothing but gape at him.
“Hmm . . . still defiant as ever, I see. You’re lucky that, although I can’t stand that simpering little fool in your arms, the audience likes her. So I can’t kill her. Not yet anyway.”
His muscles loosen a bit with the relief of hearing that, but I can tell by his eyes that he’s still as alert as ever. Still analyzing.
So am I, and mentally I’m praying this small reprieve helps him cool down. The beginnings of a plan are hatching in my mind and the first step of that plan being successful? Fake obedience. Fake fear. Continue to fake that overwhelming weakness that she believes I’m trapped in.
“However.”
Both Noah and I tense at that. Of course she wasn’t done with us or her sadistic little game.
“The death of your ex-lover apparently wasn’t enough to teach you a lesson, Noah.”
Oh God. No. No. I know what that means, and so does Noah. For a moment, our eyes meet, and although he’s fighting to maintain a calm expression, I see what I’m feeling reflected in his eyes.
This bitch is going to kill someone else we care about.
“And we both know how much you enjoy knowing Robert is dead.”
Noah’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t respond. I don’t know if it’s because he doesn’t want to admit that may be true, or because he’s finally realized that playing into her games isn’t getting us anywhere.
“I wonder . . . if I kill someone you both actually care about, will it finally teach you obedience?”
My hands freeze.
Noah and I stare at each other, chests racing, our dread a living, palpable thing between us. So is our terror.
I’m not afraid for myself. Nor for Noah. No. It’s whoever is next. Whoever will be behind the—
That vibrating is back, but this time it’s so intense that Noah and I stumble away from each other, and everything around us shakes as if an earthquake is hitting our area.
“If seeing Robert die shattered you, Ivy, I can only imagine what’s about to happen to you.”
“Ivy!” Noah tries to make his way to me, fighting to remain steady on his feet.
I fall onto the bed, bracing myself.
“If the audience didn’t love your connection so much, I would separate the two of you. Let Ivy deal with what’s coming on her own for once.”
Noah reaches me, easing down on the bed and helping me onto it with him.
“Your entire life, Ivy, it’s been about having someone there to help you. Especially your family.”
I can’t help but gasp at that. At the new confirmation I’ve just received. Damn it, the room’s shaking too much for me to hug Noah, for me to whisper to in his ear what I’m realizing.
“Everything’s been handed to you, Ivy. Everything. It’s no wonder you
can’t even handle the sight of a little blood.”
Noah’s expression darkens. I hurry to cup his face between my hands, keeping his focus on me, and try to silently convey what I need him to do. Don’t react. Focus on me. Don’t give her what she wants.
The tremors increase, threatening to displace us on the bed. All around us, furniture is starting to fall over. Above us, the chandelier trembles, the sound of the hanging crystals crashing against each other adding to the chaos.
“Noah, honestly. What do you even see in her? The entire time I’ve been watching the two of you, I could never figure it out.”
“We get it!” Noah snaps, turning to momentarily glare at the speaker. “You bloody hate her. But do you have to fucking ramble on about it?”
Our captor laughs, and although her voice is still distorted, nearly unrecognizable, I’m starting to pick up on the similarities.
On the clues.
No. The reality.
There’s no doubt in my mind anymore of who our captor is. It’s fucking crazy—insane actually, but it can be no other—
“Would the two of you like to guess who’ll be paying the price for your disobedience next?”
We don’t reply, but we do turn to stare at that cursed wall again, waiting for it to slide open.
It doesn’t.
Instead, the shaking intensifies one more time, and I fall onto Noah.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the wall right in front of us, the one with the speaker above it, begin to open. Out of nowhere, the shaking stops, and the wall finishes sliding open, exposing the darkness beyond it.
No. It isn’t just darkness. As my eyes adjust, I start making out the shape of bodies. Dozens of them.
The helmets give them away.
It’s those fucking guards again. They’re standing deep in the dark, at attention, guns at the ready.
An impenetrable barricade blocking any possibility of escape.
Noah and I continue to cling to each other, eyes locked on that opening. I can feel his heart thudding against me and my own heartbeat roars with adrenaline.
Slowly, I detect movement heading toward us. At first, I think it’s one of the guards heading in here to maybe separate us, or do God knows what else to us.
But no. That body is too small. Too . . . childlike?
As the figure approaches and I begin making out more of it, I almost choke on the horror of what I’m seeing.
It’s a child.
A motherfucking child.
She skips toward us happily, the skirt of her long, light pink dress swishing around her tiny, white slippers. Her face is covered by a full, white mask, and her big, brown curls bounce with every step she takes toward us.
No. I refuse to accept this. I know that these people—that bitch—are all sick, but this is beyond disgusting. Seriously, a child? They’re bringing in a real-life replica of a porcelain doll as their next murderer?
The child stops right inside the room and her small giggle filters through the speakers. There’s probably a mic inside that mask. She shifts and I see the sharp dagger clutched in her small hand.
Noah’s arms tighten around me. We’re both clearly asking ourselves the same thing: is she here to hurt one of us?
Then I remember what that bitch said earlier. About hurting someone that we truly—
A muffled growl sounds out within the darkness. Then what sounds like someone struggling. I look past the little girl and see a hulking form approaching, and they seem to be dragging someone along with them.
Oh God. Oh God. Jacques? That gigantic, scalpel-wielding, French aristocrat?
Just as I’m asking myself that, I see what looks like two-horns protruding from the figure’s head. No, not horns. It’s a . . .
A Jester’s hat.
This new figure comes closer, continuing to drag the small body along with it, and it doesn’t take me long to recognize the female shape of it.
I practically fly out of Noah’s arms.
“Ivy, wait!” He follows me, grabbing my arm roughly to stop me from going any further.
I can barely focus on him. That giant, white-masked Jester enters the room, dragging a struggling, bound female along with him, and the moment I see the color of her hair, my knees give out on me.
Dropping to the floor, I can do nothing but watch as she grunts through the white gag tied around her face, all the while trying to jerk out of that monster’s hold.
Behind me, Noah curses, and the name that leaves his mouth confirms that this isn’t a horrible nightmare. It’s our brutal reality. “Fuck. Jamie.”
CHAPTER 23
“Welcome, Jamie. Must be nice to have people care about you.”
“Son of a—” Placing a finger over Noah’s lips, I shut him up before he makes things worse. His wild eyes meet mine and I nod. Yes, he heard her correctly.
Two years ago . . .
“Will you stop already, Jamie!” Spearing some of my salad, I hold the fork up to point at her. We’re downstairs in the company lunchroom taking a much needed break. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Drop it.”
“Why not?” There’s a mischievous glint in her eyes as they shift from mine to Noah’s. “It’s hilarious to see the well put-together Robert acting like a well-trained puppy. The man is dead set on winning you back.”
“That was mean, Jamie. Give the guy a break . . . Robert isn’t a bad guy. He just isn’t for me.”
Beside me Noah snorts and I look over. “What, love?” he asks innocently.
And I ignore the way my insides flutter every time he calls me by any kind of endearment. How his eyes stare at me with affection—like he sees me. All of me, especially what has become so hard to hide.
This attraction is almost suffocating me. Not blurring the lines, maintaining everything professional and polite—a chore.
Shaking my head, I fight to keep the smile off my face. “Please share with the class, Mr. Barker. What in all this. . .” I draw a wide circle in the air between us “. . . is so amusing to you?”
“Last naming me only turns me on, doll. Watch yourself,” he playfully growls, then winks. It’s something that comes natural to him; charisma. “And to answer your question, Ivy, I find Robert’s pathetic attempts to win you back amusing.”
Jamie to the other side of me covers her laugher behind a cough and then mutters something that sounds an awful lot like of course this wanker does.
Placing my fork down, I look him in the eye. “I happen to find it sweet in a way. He wants me bad enough to—”
“Let me stop you right there, Ivy. Your blindness is no one’s fault. Look past him.” The bite in his tone catches me off guard and I gape at him.
“Are you trying to imply something, Noah?” Movement from Jamie’s side makes me look away only to find her entranced in our sparring match. Her eyes are as wide as her smile—ping-ponging between us as if we’re a tennis match.
“Sue me, love, but the cat and mouse game the bloke is losing is in no way, shape, or form romantic.” There’s a bit of a five o’clock shadow on his jaw and he scratches the sparse hairs there. “Robert is panting over a woman that will never be his.”
“I wish you two would stop with the game . . . ouch!” Jamie narrows her eyes at me after I kick her chin.
“Behave, or I’ll send you to spend the afternoon with Valerie.”
Jamie gasps. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me. Dad owes me a favor and—”
“I wasn’t aware that Racy & Reid pays its employees to hang out and gossip.”
That voice—Jesus Christ, that woman’s voice always manages to raise the hairs at the back of my neck. There’s a touch of spite in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by my lunch companions and they tense on either side of me.
It’s creepy how she can sneak up on me at all times.
As if she’s always watching.
Valerie makes me uncomfortable.
“Is there a problem here,
Ms. Thornton?” Noah breaks the silence, his acidity matching hers as he pushes his half-eaten plate away. “Am I, or my account, creating a problem here?”
“Of course not, Mr. Barker.” Valerie fidgets at the way Noah coolly looks at her. “You are more than welcome here at any time. Please forgive me if I made you feel otherwise. We are beyond ecstatic to be designing the new campaign for your fall line after all the success we’ve had with the last two.”
“And yet, you have a problem with my companions and I sharing a meal? Is that correct?” Others around us turn to look toward our table. Some murmur between themselves and a few chuckle, something she notices.
Her eyes land on mine and narrow. “We don’t pay you to entertain our clientele. Get back to work, Ivy.”
“I’m on my lunch break and can do as I please with my time,” I say while Jamie next to me nods.
Noah sits back, his posture one of defiance. Dares her to challenge me.
Sensing she won’t win this argument, Valerie turns toward Noah. “Was there something I could do for you while you’re here? Help with anything?” she simpers, her smile a bit predatory.
How she flips between overeager and company bitch leaves a lot to be desired.
“No.” His answer is short and to the point, leaves no room for any sort of conversation.
“Very well then, Mr. Barker.” The smile on her face is as fake as the rest of her. “Enjoy your meal.”
Noah nods, but doesn’t answer and that riles her up all the more. Fist clenching, she breathes hard and turns toward me. “Upstairs in thirty and not a second later, we have work to do. Daddy doesn’t pay his little girl to flirt.”
“Excuse me?” This time it’s Noah and me who answer.
Did I hear her right? Tossing my napkin down on the table, I make a move to stand, but Jamie stops me, shaking her head and ignoring my glare. “Ignore her, Ivy. Company policy dictates that you are in the right here and have no need to engage in an argument.”
“Ahhhh, Jamie. How is everyone in H.R. these days?”
“Fine,” my good friend replies in an even tone. Another employee that Thornton has no control over—treads carefully with.
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