Peyton’s Price: A Singular Obsession Novel

by Leroux, Lucy

  “It is genuine, I assure you,” Iver said, stressing his favorite word with a hiss.

  She nudged his hand away, wiping away the spittle that landed on her cheek.

  “I’m sure it is,” she said, desperately seeking an escape. It came in the form of a waiter holding a tray of canapés.

  “Would you excuse me? I am starving, and I’d like to get a bite to eat.”

  “Allow me to accompany you,” he said, his unctuous smile nausea-inducing. “I can select the choicest morsels for you.”

  Peyton pictured him trying to feed her, then suppressed a shudder.

  “Bathroom,” she blurted, clutching her stomach. “Excuse me, I need to find it. Now.”

  She turned on her heel, not bothering to ask him where it was. The longer it takes to find, the better.

  Wandering about the room, she weaved and dodged around guests until she was sure she wasn’t being followed. She stopped short in front of another sexually charged painting—a graphic modern piece that bordered on obscene. Grimacing, she decided to find the restroom for real. Anything to escape the decor.

  At least the bathroom will be free of naked people.

  She was wrong. The bathroom had an antechamber with a long settee in front of a lighted vanity mirror with an ornately painted fresco overhead. But at least the cherubs depicted on it were prepubescent. Or was that worse?

  Shaking her head, Peyton washed her hands and left, falling on Matthias’ neck with melodramatic relief when she found him waiting outside.

  His muscular arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. “I’m checking in. I know this party can’t be fun for you.”

  He wasn’t kidding, but she didn’t want to discourage him from bringing her with him to business events. With his and Liam’s busy schedules, she wanted to make sure he didn’t try to exclude her in an effort to spare her. But she had to be honest about the art.

  “You know, I never thought of myself as a prude, but the paintings and photos in this place are gross.”

  He smiled sympathetically. “I know, and I apologize. If you like, I can have Aksel drive you back to the Caislean.”

  “No, no. I’m fine,” she said. “Unless you are done here, in which case, let’s get the hell out of Dodge.”

  Matthias leaned down, pressing his forehead against her. “Believe me, I’d love to leave Dodge far behind, but I’m afraid I’m not quite finished. Regrettably, this deal is intricate and requires some face-to-face negotiation.”

  “You poor thing. I know you’d rather deal with stuff from the comfort of your mega-yacht,” she teased, softening her tongue-in-cheek response with a hand on his stubble. “And don’t worry about me. I’m f-fine.”

  Peyton jerked and stumbled, her eyes fixed on the blonde walking past them with her eyes down. It was a girl wearing a low-cut yellow gown, one with a familiar face.

  “Are you sure about that?” Matthias pressed close, his arms around her waist the only thing keeping her upright. “Do you feel lightheaded?’

  Blushing, Peyton straightened. “I’m fine,” she lied. “There’s no need for concern, although you had a good idea. I may leave a bit early to soak in the tub for a while.”

  Matthias’ laugh was deep and low. “Is the art bad enough you feel the need to bathe? Because if so, I get it. I feel dirty, too…and not in a good way,”

  His carefree grin was usually enough to make her drag him off to the nearest closet, but she couldn’t think straight.

  Peyton’s heart was pounding, but she couldn’t say anything. I could be wrong. She might not know that girl. But she could be right, too.

  “Are you certain everything is all right?”

  She blinked, snapping out of her distraction. Matthias studied her, concern dampening his expression.

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice a touch too high. Peyton patted him on the shoulder. “Go back and finish your business. With any luck, we can both be in the tub by midnight.”

  With that as a lure, Matthias nodded and left, accepting her upbeat attitude a little too readily. He doesn’t know you as well as Liam. Not yet.

  Peyton’s hands shook. She hurried in the direction of the girl in the yellow dress—the one who bore a remarkable resemblance to the one she’d seen in the trafficker’s dungeon.

  * * *

  For the first time in her life, Peyton was outright rude to a host.

  When Iver offered to show her the private pieces he kept in his bedroom, she ‘accidentally’ crushed his toes with her stiletto. She topped the move by tripping and falling against him, soaking him with her full glass of champagne.

  “Oh, no! I’m so sorry,” she cried, waving over a waiter and asking him for a napkin. “These stupid shoes are too high.”

  “Eh, well, accidents happen,” Iver sneered, dropping the unctuous tone and showing his irritation. He took a step and winced.

  A flash of guilt assailed her. Peyton helped him to a chair. “I think we need some ice, too,” she suggested when the waiter returned. A few other guests clustered around them. Taking advantage of the bustle, she snuck away, resuming her scan of the guests.

  Why are they so many people here? Shouldn’t big oil deals be brokered in the privacy of boardrooms? Muttering under her breath, Peyton pressed her clutch to her stomach in a vain effort to stop the butterflies wreaking havoc there.

  The salon was a bust. Ditto for the kitchen, which, unlike her friends’ parties, was devoid of guests. The only people in there were a small group of harried catering staff who didn’t appreciate the interruption.

  The living room was full of milling guests, but no girl in yellow. Peyton was starting to think she had imagined the young woman until she spotted her on the arm of a short and thin man almost three times her age. Possibly four.

  Please be her father. Skirting the crowd, Peyton circled the small group by the fireplace. She pretended to examine the volumes on the shelf next to the door so she could cast covert glances at the pair.

  She couldn’t decide if it was the line of her jaw or the expression of absolute misery on her face, but Peyton was almost certain she was right about the girl’s identity. She became convinced of it when the sweaty man in the suit shifted to cup the girl’s ass.

  The poor thing’s lips tightened with embarrassment and shame. The girl lasted a few more minutes before murmuring something to the man and excusing herself. Peyton straightened, dodging a man who appeared to be about to ask her a question. She hurried through the foyer, following her quarry down to the bathroom.

  By the time Peyton was inside, the girl had locked herself in the stall in the back. Her stifled sobs broke Peyton’s heart.

  She tapped on the door. “Hello? Can I come in?”

  “I’m fine,” the girl said in a shaky voice.

  But I’m not sure I am.

  “Um, I think we know each other, and I’d like to help you.” Peyton lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is it you?”

  The door opened slowly. The girl’s mascara had run all over her cheeks. “Is it me who?”

  Peyton took a deep breath, fishing a tissue out of her purse. “Do you recognize me?”

  The girl shook her head.

  “Not from the—” Peyton hesitated. If she were wrong, she was exposing herself, but her gut told her this was the girl and she was in trouble.

  “From…from the prison,” Peyton finished in a rush.

  The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re a criminal?”

  “No, I meant when we were held captive,” Peyton said, the realization she had been mistaken setting in. “You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

  This wasn’t the teenager from the sex-trafficker’s dungeon.

  “No,” the girl said in a low voice. “I’m sorry you were kidnapped. But I don’t know you. We’ve never met.”

  Peyton wanted to sink through the floor. “Yeah, I realize that now. It’s just that your face was so familiar. I apologize for freaking you out.”

&n
bsp; “You didn’t. I’m sorry for what happened to you.” She stopped, then swore in an unfamiliar language. “I thought I had it bad, but it is nothing compared to your situation.”

  Peyton waved dismissively. “I’m fine now. Better than I have any right to be, but I mistook you for someone else partly because of how sad you look. Err…is that man you were with your boyfriend?”

  The girl shrugged. “I don’t think I can call Omer that. But I do have sex with him.”

  “Oh.” Peyton shifted awkwardly, wondering what she should say, but, apparently, the dam had broken.

  “He has many other girls, or at least he used to,” the girl continued. “My mother was one of them, but she left a few months ago. He gave her a lot of money to leave me behind.”

  Fuck. “I’m so sorry.”

  The girl shrugged, drying her tears. “It could be worse. One of my mother’s other boyfriends liked sharing her. At least Omer doesn’t make me do that.”

  Peyton swore aloud. “Honey, how old are you?”

  “Eighteen. Well, almost. My birthday is in two weeks.”

  Peyton swallowed hard, forcing her hands to her sides. She wanted to march into that living room and beat the shit out of sweaty little Omer. Or better yet, I can drive my stiletto into his eye socket.

  Except public and bloody murder would only get her arrested, and this girl would still be in trouble.

  Peyton put her arm around her. “What is your name?”

  “Anisa.”

  “Okay, Anisa. I’m Peyton. It’s nice to meet you.” She waited for the girl’s nod of acknowledgment before continuing. “Can I ask you something? Is your mother coming back for you?”

  It took Anisa a long time to answer. “I think not. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t think she will return. She’s been on her own since she was thirteen, and she always said I was spoiled because she stayed so much longer than that.”

  “And do you want to stay with Omer?” Peyton asked, finally getting to the point.

  Anisa hesitated. “I do. He’s not so bad.”

  “Is it because he treats you well or because you have nowhere else to go?”

  The girl stayed silent.

  Peyton took both Anisa’s hands in her own. “If you’re afraid to leave him because you have no resources, I can help you.”

  She hadn’t ever used the allowance Matthias had provided her, but she could now. There was more than enough to help fund this girl’s escape.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” Anisa confessed. “He has my papers—my passport. Also, he would be angry if I left. He paid a lot of money for me, and he doesn’t like to be cheated.”

  Son of a bitch. Peyton thought quickly. “I think I can fix that, too. I know a woman with experience giving people like you a whole new life. If I’m right, that means a new identity and new documents. I can also float you some cash to get you started.”

  Priya would do this for Peyton. She was sure of it. Anisa needed help. Matthias, on the other hand, might not be so sanguine. He didn’t want anything to do with rescues anymore.

  “I—I’m not sure,” Anisa said in a low voice. “I don’t know how to do anything. A loan is not an income, and I have no skills. I never finished school.”

  Peyton cocked her head, considering. “You know, without that makeup, you would look years younger. I bet we can get you into high school just by shaving a few years off your passport.”

  “You can do that?” A look of dawning hope began to light Anisa’s eyes.

  Please God don’t let me be making promises I can’t keep. No. This was on her. She had to make this happen.

  “I think so,” Peyton promised. “Can you get away from Omer whenever you want?”

  Anisa nodded. “He knows I can’t leave the country. He thinks I’m too afraid, but he lets me go shopping on my own.”

  “Good,” Peyton said, taking out a pen and a receipt. She wrote her phone number on the back, then typed Anisa’s into hers.

  “I’m going to leave now to get started, but as soon as I can, I’m going to text you to set up a meeting. I will have everything you need to leave. And don’t bring anything unless it’s small and fits in your purse. No favorite clothes or books. If you’re serious about leaving Omer, you can buy anything you need after.”

  Anisa swallowed, her eyes tearing up. “Thank you.”

  Peyton wanted to add a million caveats. She had no idea if she could deliver, but when Anisa took her hand, all the warnings died on her tongue.

  She had to do this—even if it meant blowing up her relationship with Matthias.

  Chapter 35

  Convincing Priya to help her only took an hour. Convincing her that she could get Matthias on board proved to be an abject failure.

  “Peyton, I believe we should keep this between us for now,” Priya advised. “After what you told me, I suspect he is traumatized by what happened at Belarus. I know the mistake was not on our end, but I don’t think he can’t bring himself to accept that.”

  Peyton sighed, glad Matthias was still at that heinous party. “I know, but I don’t like keeping this a secret from him.”

  “Whether or not you want to disclose it is your decision, but perhaps you should wait for Mr. Tyler’s return to do so?”

  “Do you think I need a buffer? Because once Matthias gets over the shock, he will understand why I couldn’t look the other way.”

  “Yes, of course. But Mr. Tyler could provide…insurance.”

  Peyton couldn’t help but laugh. “All that muscle does make an effective shield.”

  Except what Priya didn’t know was Liam wasn’t getting here any time soon. He’d called her while she was in the car to let her know he’d been unavoidably delayed in New York. He was terribly sorry and more than a little irritated, but he promised to make it up to her and Matthias with something special.

  She wanted to be excited about whatever he had planned—he’d sounded both nervous and gleeful, which was atypical for him, but Peyton couldn’t help but worry about the task at hand.

  Maybe she should keep it a secret. Once the new papers arrived, Peyton could deliver them to Anisa with a cashier’s check.

  They talked more, formulating plans.

  “Don’t worry about making travel arrangements for Anisa,” Priya said eventually, more than a hint of enthusiasm in her tone. “The less you know, the better.”

  Peyton hung up shortly after, relieved the ball was in someone else’s court for the moment. I just hope I’m not getting Priya in trouble.

  That was the least of Peyton’s worries. She could protect Priya. If Matthias found it, Peyton would do whatever she had to, including falling on her metaphorical sword, to save her friend’s job.

  No. Matthias would know who to blame. Stop thinking about it, she ordered herself.

  She had her own plans to make, and one of the things on her agenda was reviewing the case file and other documents Mason had just sent.

  * * *

  Three days later, Peyton met Anisa at a crowded shopping center. Or at least, she was supposed to. Anisa was over an hour late.

  Peyton sipped a smoothie, half-wishing she hadn’t ordered one. Drinking anything had been a huge mistake. She had been twisted in knots ever since the fake passport had come in the mail.

  Anisa’s not coming. I should have known…

  Peyton had hashed and rehashed her plan a million time, but her biggest concern was that the girl would back out. Anisa was young and scared, but staying with Omer, as repugnant as he was, might be less frightening to her than striking out on her own.

  Or Omer had discovered his almost-legal girlfriend was leaving him, and he’d done something terrible to her. Don’t borrow trouble.

  Peyton took a deep breath, trying to calm down. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd, but there was no sign of Anisa. She took another ill-advised sip of the smoothie, cursing her upset stomach.

  It’s not just that. Your breasts are sore.

 
She pressed her hands hard against her thighs. That didn’t mean anything. Both Matthias and Liam paid a great deal of attention to that area. No doubt that was why her breasts ached. She wasn’t pregnant.

  Pushing her misgiving to the back of her mind, she debated whether she should leave. Deciding to risk another text to Anisa, she reached for her phone.

  A big hand settled heavily on her shoulder. She opened her mouth to scream, but she choked it – down when she recognized the man looming over her.

  “Peyton.” Matthias flushed, his eyes narrowed on her face.

  “Hi!” she squeaked. Jumping out of her chair, she gave him a tentative hug while giving her purse a good kick. Unfortunately, it didn’t make it under the table, catching on the heel of her boots instead.

  Matthias bent, frowning as he snatched the bag up. “Why did you sneak out of the hotel?”

  “Uh…”

  He straightened, his back ramrod straight. “I know you’re hiding something. You’ve been behaving strangely for days. Did you think I hadn’t noticed?”

  Peyton briefly considered bluffing, but one look into his troubled and bloodshot eyes and she didn’t even try. Hanging her head, she sat in the uncomfortable cafe chair. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting strangely.”

  She had been so worried he would notice her anxiety and preoccupation she’d been actively avoiding him, even going so far as to spend the night in one of the suite’s other bedrooms. Her excuse had been weak—she’d told him she had a headache.

  The hurt on Matthias’ face was like a dagger to her heart.

  “What is going on?” he asked. “I don’t understand what all this cloak-and-dagger secrecy is for. Have you been recruited to the CIA?”

  He glanced down at her purse. “And what is in here that you don’t want me to see?”

  Peyton gripped her hands together. “It’s a package. Some documents.”

  Matthias let loose a short bark of laughter. “So, I was right? You are a spy now?”

  His accent had thickened so much she could barely understand him.