by Sophia Lynn
At the bottom of all the reasons he tried to pile up was a darker fear. He had known one older man who had married a beautiful woman from another world. His father and mother's marriage had been a terrible thing, and if what it took to avoid that fate was to stay unmarried, he had been willing to do it.
Then he had met a wild-eyed young woman who worked in his house scrubbing floors, and it had all changed.
Cord felt as if he was being torn in two. His brain screamed one thing, his heart another, and the idea of going up to his hotel room where they could fight in the silence was terrible.
Instead, he set down the glass and glanced around the bar. In less than a minute, Cord had discovered what he was looking for in the form of a hungry-eyed brunette. She sat at the far end of the bar, but she kept her body canted toward him, showing off her long, bare legs. She was dressed in a sapphire blue dress with cleavage that barely stopped short of her navel, and glittering earrings brushed her shoulders.
"Hi, honey," he said with a smile. "I think I'm done drinking down here. Want to come up and keep me company?"
"I think that can be arranged," she said with a smile, and she followed him to the elevator leading up to the penthouse.
***
Jordan knew that when she took the file with her, she needed to move fast. She didn't like to think about what might happen if Cord returned and found that file gone. He would turn the house inside out looking for it, and she could only imagine the terror of him finding it in her possession.
The day dragged on for what felt like forever, and at the same time, it was over too soon. No one knew it, but Jordan was saying goodbye to Waverly Manor with every touch, every chore, every moment. She worked so hard that Mrs. O'Donnely told her to slow down. Not everything needed to get done at once, did it?
Jordan nodded meekly, but inside, she only wanted to laugh. She wanted to shout at the housekeeper that she was out of time, completely out of time. There was no time left, and now the next thing needed to happen.
She went up to her room, and she set her alarm for midnight.
"Hello, yes, I need a taxi for midnight. Here's the address. Please, could you make sure that you do not ring the bell? Ask the driver to wait at the base of the drive."
Somehow, she packed her things and then fell into a deep sleep. She was so tired lately, but perhaps that would change when she was back in her own life, doing the things that she was used to.
Regardless of the reason, however, Jordan woke up from her nap feeling as if she could have slept for another twelve hours. It felt like every muscle in her body was urging her back to bed, but she managed to get upright, and she made her way down the stairs and out to the driveway. The weather was warming up, but there was still a frosty nip to the air. For a moment, she had the gruesome idea of simply sitting on the ground, waiting for the chill to kill her. She shook it off. Surely, she was made of sterner stuff than that?
The taxi showed up at the base of the drive just as she got there, and the man smiled at her kindly as she got in.
"You're my first fare of the night," he said cheerfully. "And you're heading to the bus station, right?"
"Yes, sir," she said with a false smile. "I've got quite a way to go."
She was heading to the bus station where she could catch a stopover bus on its way north, and after that, she would go where the whim took her. She had cash saved up from her work at the manor, and that was a blessing, of sorts.
Jordan barely stifled a hysterical laugh from bubbling past her lips.
Oh, God, this would have been so much simpler if you had gotten a payoff from Cord, she thought. After all, you certainly played the part, didn't you?
She did laugh a little, causing the taxi driver to look at her with concern, but she ignored him. It was either laugh or burst into tears, and she knew which one she preferred.
As first the taxi and then the bus took her farther and farther away from Waverly Manor, she could feel her heart twisting savagely. The file was tucked into the bottom of her luggage, and she realized with some dull surprise that revenge had no appeal anymore. Her father had wanted to see Lance Everett destroyed, but in every way that counted, the man had destroyed himself.
Where did that leave her?
She thought of Cord, imagining his bright blue eyes, thinking of the way she loved to sweep her fingers through his dark hair while he dozed. In the game of revenge, was there any place for lovers to stand?
***
Cord wasn't even in the penthouse before he realized that he wouldn't be able to go through with it. The brunette was exactly his type, willowy and bold, but when she had started to kiss him in the elevator, he’d had to fight the urge to push her away.
There was nothing wrong with her . . . and at the same time, everything was wrong. She was too tall, too thin, her eyes were as dark as the night, and there was no humorous quirk to her mouth. At the beginning and end of it, she simply was not Jordan, and he knew it.
When they got up to the penthouse, he turned to her, making it very clear with his body language that he was not allowing her any farther.
"Sorry," he said. "I forgot I have an early day tomorrow. I should probably get some shuteye."
She sighed a little with real wistfulness and shrugged.
"Sorry to hear it," she said. "I think we could have had a good time. Want my number? You can call me the next time you don't misremember your schedule."
Cord almost took it instinctively, but then he found himself shaking his head.
"Thanks, but no. I'm leaving New York tomorrow."
She shrugged. Easy come, easy go. Cord stepped into the penthouse, startled but more sure of himself than he had ever been.
That woman was beauty itself, but she had rung absolutely no bells in him whatsoever. She had left him cold, and he knew where his fire was. Where his heart was.
He ignored how late it was and called up the assistant overseeing his affairs in New York.
"Sorry, I know it's late, but there's work I need to get done. All right, start by canceling all of my appointments tomorrow, and make sure that the jet is fueled up for a departure that is no later than six PM. I want to be back home by nine tomorrow at the very latest, do you understand? Right, I don't care how many people are disturbed—make it happen. Oh, and make sure that you get me an appointment at, say, noon, for that jeweler that Hennessy used to propose to his wife, that one on . . . yes, that one. All right, that's all."
Cord thought that he would never fall asleep, but the moment his showered body hit the sheets, he slept the best he had ever slept in his life when Jordan wasn't next to him.
This is what knowing what you are going to do with the rest of your life does to you, I guess, he thought, and he was out of bed and getting dressed.
There were a half-dozen angry calls to deal with, but he so obviously did not care that they thought they were intimidated into rescheduling. After that was his appointment at Nasir's, a small place hidden away behind the hustle and bustle of the city.
There was an old man behind the counter, and the moment he figured out who Cord was, he gestured for Cord to follow him into the office, locking it tightly behind him.
He showed Cord an array of rings that would have dazzled an emperor. As a matter of fact, some of the stones had graced the hands of royalty before they were reset.
Every piece was a work of true art, but Cord only had eyes for one piece. In the middle of the glittering stars, one ring gleamed dark instead, surrounded by gleaming white diamonds.
"Ah yes, sir, that is a two-carat diamond, one of the rarest of colors. It was part of the bridal trousseau of Empress Beatrice Hapsburg of Austria."
"That's it. That's the one I want," he said, because there was no other gem there that made him think of Jordan's deep eyes, her sense of mystery and beauty.
He barely knew what he paid for it. All he knew was that it was a comforting weight in his pocket as he took the chauffeur to the private airfield, and from there, the jet ba
ck home.
Sometimes, Cord touched the velvet box in his pocket. He had never thought that he would get married. Hell, he had never thought that he would fall in love. Now that he had found Jordan, however, he knew that nothing in the world was going to keep her from him. Nothing was ever going to keep them apart.
When he opened the door at Waverly Manor, Mrs. O'Donnely came out to meet him. Cord wondered slightly at how rumpled she looked, but he simply smiled at her, holding up a hand.
"Sir, we didn't expect you back for—"
“No worries at all. I assume that everything was handled well in my absence, Mrs. O'Donnely. You know I have the utmost faith in you.”
“Sir, that statement is ironic to say the least in light of what I have to tell you,” she said, and her voice was so grim that he turned to look at her. She had always been unflappable. He could not remember seeing her look this grave.
“What is it?”
“Well, hopefully, it is nothing, but this morning, the household awoke and it seems that one of the maids has run off,” she said. “We do not believe that anything was taken, but she disappeared without so much as a trace, and that usually points to a thief of some kind. All of her things were taken with her, so it was not as if she was taken by force—”
“Which maid?” Cord said, his mouth suddenly utterly dry.
“Sir?”
“I asked you a damn question—which maid?” he thundered, and Mrs. O'Donnely stepped back a pace.
“It was the newest one, Jordan Matthews,” she said, stuttering only slightly. “It was a surprise. We never thought it of her. She has been quite steady since she started here.”
The housekeeper was still talking, but Cord was no longer listening. Instead, his brain felt as if it was on fire, and he stumbled away. Let the older woman think that he was drunk if she wished. He felt as if his world had lost its true north.
He instinctively started heading to his bedroom, but the idea of being in it without Jordan felt like scalding water poured over his skin. Instead, Cord blindly felt his way to the library, where they had first met, where he had first looked into her extraordinary black eyes.
He sat down at his desk, thinking how he had first met her in this room. None of this made sense. Why had she chosen to run? What possible purpose could it serve? His mind took the problem apart while his heart shouted from a cage. It refused to believe the worst of her. It refused to think that she might be a thief or a liar or . . .
Suddenly, the light from above made something glint. It was tucked snugly against the rear side of his desk, a simple silver gleam. Frowning, he reached down for it, and he stared at what he had found.
It looked like a dental pick of some sort, but Cord knew better. It was designed to test and depress the tumblers on a lock so that they could be turned all at once, and Cord felt a deep well of blackness open inside him.
Suddenly, he understood how darkness could be passed down from father to son, and he knew why he should never marry, let alone give his heart to another.
Right then, Cord wanted nothing more than to stay in the library and reach for the alcohol he kept nearby, but instead, he rose to his feet, pacing as he started to make calls.
She would be found, and by God, she would answer for what she had done.
Chapter Seventeen
At some point, Jordan had given up on sleep. The moment her head hit the pillow, she was wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. Her mind was full, and there was no place for her to empty it. Whenever she shut her eyes, all she could see was Cord. She saw his smile, the flashes of vulnerability she was sure he never showed to anyone else, the bits of temper and the will that was surely some kind of divine gift.
If she hesitated for too long, she would think about how his hands felt on her body, navigating her curves like some kind of skilled pilot, making sure that nothing was left untouched or ignored while they were seeking their pleasure together.
So rather than be haunted by the pleasures and the pain of her relationship with Cord, Jordan would rise from her bed and pace her motel room. It was a shoddy little place, but they didn't bat an eye when she told them that she wanted to stay for a month. It was a terrible place as these things went. At least the floor she was on was fairly quiet, and she hadn't seen any violence yet.
I've gotten spoiled, she thought ruefully. Waverly Manor was a serene place, a place where having anything out of place would be a horror. Now on her way out for her daily walk, she dodged food wrappers and junk of all kinds, and she wondered how she had ever lived like this.
It was unfair, with all of that going on, that she was plagued with a fatigue and soreness that did not seem to abate. In the month since she had left Waverly, left Cord, it was as if her body had simply given up. She felt as if her eyes ached, and even if she wanted to, she could not manage a long walk.
It figures. I'm falling apart, she thought with disgust.
She thought about how dirty the motel was, she thought about how tired she was, she thought about how much she missed Cord, but despite all of it, she could not think of the file that she had left in the bottom drawer of the cheap dresser that had come with her room.
She had only gone over it once on that terrible night in Waverly, but the pictures were emblazoned in her memory. The pictures of an injured little boy, eyes brave and furious, were hers now, and whenever she thought about those pictures, she wanted to reach for Cord.
On her daytime walks, Jordan wondered what he had thought about her disappearance. She assumed that Mrs. O'Donnely had informed him right away, but how did he react? Was he furious at her desertion, or was he sad to lose a lover who was so very convenient to his home? Or did Cord simply shrug, philosophical about the fact that now he would have to find someone else?
Jordan never spoke of her secret wish, the one that lived in the center of her heart, buried deep beneath the rest of her confusion. In that wish that she dared not even speak to herself, they were together. There were no payoffs, no rules, nothing separating master and maid. There was only the two of them, touching, loving, smiling. She wasn't tired, she wasn't sore, and he smiled at her with true love in his eyes.
I've avenged my family. I have the instrument for the destruction of Lance Everett hidden in my dresser drawers. I should feel good.
She was certain she had never felt so apathetic about everything, however, and as she made her way through her days, she felt as if she were constantly on the verge of tears. At some point, she realized with a grimace that she was likely eating too much fast food. Her jeans felt tight, nipping in at her waist in a way that they never had before.
A part of her wanted nothing more than to send the file back to Cord, or better yet, destroy it. She could walk away from all of this, find a real job, and start living her life. She tried to tell herself that there was plenty of time to do all of that, but she felt a thousand years old.
Jordan knew that at some point, her money would run out. She would need to decide what to do then, whether it was to sell the folder to an interested tabloid or find a real job. Either way, she needed to be able to keep body and soul together, and she wasn't going to be able to do that by sitting on her bed and staring out the grimy window.
Still, she put it off.
I have time, she told herself. I have plenty of time. I can think about what I want to do and how I want to do it.
Of course, that sounded good, but with every day that passed, she was no closer to finding the solution to her problem. She had read once that waiting was its own special kind of hell, and she had no idea what that meant until now.
Then, suddenly, her wait was over.
She opened the door to her room after a long walk, and Cord was sitting at the desk as if he owned it, one foot propped up on the opposite knee and the damnable folder balanced lightly in his hand.
Even in the ugly surroundings of her hotel room, he looked good, his skin a healthy tan, his clothes immaculately clean and pressed.
When
he glanced up at her, his eyes were a deep and turbulent sapphire, and there was a rage there that made her take a step back.
"Well, hello, Jordan," he said, his voice soft. "Why don't you close the door behind you and step inside?"
For a moment, she wanted to run. It would have been pure foolishness. If he had gotten into her room, he could certainly catch her again. However, it was more than the certainty of capture that kept her still. Simply put, Jordan was tired of running, and the idea of doing more made her want to weep.
Silently, she did as he said, closing the door behind her softly before coming to stand in front of him. She felt like an errant schoolgirl as she clasped her hands in front of her.
"Cord," she began. "Please—"
"Shush," he said. The word was mild, almost playful, but there was a dark force behind it that made her shut her mouth hurriedly. To a casual observer, Cord looked entirely at his ease, but Jordan could see the rage that trembled through him, that threatened to erupt as soon as he had a target. She fell still.
"You did not make it easy to find you," he said. "I had you trailed to Chicago, and then to Detroit, and then, suddenly, nothing. It felt as if you had disappeared into thin air."
There were tricks she had learned as a desperate teenager on her own. They were simple enough, but they did make it look as if she had flown into an airport and never left. She did not say anything.
"I was going out of my mind," Cord said, his voice neutral. He did not sound like a man going out of his mind, but of course she didn't say that. "I was half-convinced that you were dead, that perhaps you had fallen prey to some kind of accident or even that you had been murdered. I dreamed up all sorts of wild stories to explain what you had done."
He glanced at her, his gaze stone.
"It took some doing before I figured it out. Mrs. O'Donnely led the household in a complete accounting, something that is done when a thief is suspected. As it turns out, nothing was missing at all. You missed out, Jordan. You could have jumped ship with thousands—"
"I didn't do it for the money," she broke out, unable to help herself.