Love Unbound: A Valentine's Day Romance Anthology

by Dee, Cassandra

  Thorn nodded, his jaw tense.

  “You’re getting closer,” he rumbled, those massive shoulders bulging with muscle. “Keep going.”

  But keep going with what? By now, it was clear I was in over my head, so in the interest of simplifying the conversation, I turned both my palms up, as if pleading with the alpha.

  “Tell me what’s wrong,” came my voice. “Tell me, and I’ll fix it as best I can.”

  Thorn was silent for a moment, looking away. But when his gaze swung back to me it was so full of vitriol that I gasped, shrinking from the billionaire.

  “You’re a spy,” the words came, harsh and flat. “All this was a set-up to destroy my business.”

  The accusation was so crazy that my eyes goggled, unable to comprehend at first.

  “I’m sorry?” came my gasp. “Come again?”

  Thorn’s face became cruel, his mouth a gash of anger.

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know,” he snarled. “You’ve been a mole this entire time. This flight attendant job? All bullshit. Your lovey-dovey ways and “sweetheart this, sweetheart that?” A complete crock of sizzling crap.”

  I gasped, my heart contracting suddenly with a stab of pain. Because none of that was fake at all. I’d imbued every action and word with sincerity, adoring the billionaire with every cell of my being. So why was he accusing me of being a spy of all things? Was this some sick World War II movie?

  “There’s been a mistake,” came my rushed words. “It has to be. I’m not a spy. I’m no one, just a no-name from the middle of Queens. How could I be a spy?” my hands were up in the air. “It’s impossible.”

  But Thorn got savage then.

  “Liar,” he snarled. “I had experts check it out. There’ve been a series of leaks at my company. And you know what? The leaks corresponded with whichever city I was in. Atlanta. Dallas. Fucking Alaska for crying out loud. You think you were going to get away with this?”

  My hands flew to my mouth.

  “But that doesn’t mean anything!” was my protest. “And this makes no sense! I don’t know anything about your business, even if I was traveling with you all the time. What knowledge do I have? And who am I spying for? This is crazy!”

  But Mr. Evans turned away, shaking his head.

  “The best honeypots are just like you,” he said savagely. “Protesting your innocence until the very end.”

  “But I am innocent!” came my cry. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and none of this makes any sense.”

  He swung eyes like lasers to me then, searing my skin. I literally fell backwards against the cabin wall, my heart pounding furiously with fear.

  “You dumb bitch,” he snarled. “It’s you and your friend. And that fucker Nick Ryver.”

  What? Who was Nick Ryver? What friend? Did he mean Katrina? Other than my mom, Kat was the only person I’d kept in touch with during these past few months.

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “What are you talking about? Katrina? You have things wrong. My buddy has air for brains, she’s not a spy.”

  The claim was so ludicrous that I let out a choked giggle, unable to believe the direction of this conversation.

  But Thorn shook his head with a sharp jerk, slicing one palm through the air.

  “You dumb bitch,” he repeated. “All this time I’ve trusted you, leaving all sorts of materials around. Confidential shit. Stuff stamped with red, practically screaming ‘Top Secret.’ And you took pictures of everything, streaming it to your buddy.”

  I protested again, cheeks flaming.

  “I’ve taken pictures of nothing!” was my outraged cry. “I don’t even have a camera.”

  Mr. Evans picked up my laptop again, flicking open the lid with a swift twist.

  “That doesn’t look like a camera to you?” he asked, pointing to the small black lens at the top. “You haven’t been chatting with your buddy all this time?”

  I gasped.

  “Yes, it’s a camera, but I’ve never taken any pictures, I swear,” came my gasp. “This makes no sense. I have no idea what you’re talking about, and frankly, this is all baloney. If you want me gone, just say so! Just tell me! You don’t have to make up some bullshit about spying and spy games and craziness that doesn’t exist. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

  And with that, Mr. Evans’s mouth snapped shut, his eyes dangerous.

  “Fine,” he snapped, the word like a crack in the air. “Get out.”

  My head jerked upwards, eyes meeting his. Was the billionaire serious? After all the conversation and laughs we’d shared, he wanted me gone after some silly misunderstanding? Something that had nothing to do with me? This was just a giant mistake, so crazy that it was ludicrous. I was a girl from Queens who knew nobody and nothing. How could I possibly be some international spy, embroiled in corporate espionage? Sure, there were assorted files lying around but never in my life did I take pictures of his documents, much less transmit it to a rival.

  But Mr. Evans was done. His eyes were flat, that voice brutal.

  “Like I said, get out,” he snapped.

  My chin jerked up.

  “Right now? Like this?” I gasped, gesturing to the silky robe molding my curves. “At least let me get dressed and grab my things.”

  But Mr. Evans was prepared.

  “No. Get out,” he said again, this time his voice devoid of all emotion. “You’re a fucking liar. Here’s your passport. There’s a golf cart waiting on the tarmac. We’re leaving in about five,” he said, glancing at his watch before looking back at me. “Correction. I’m leaving in five. You’re getting the fuck out of my life.”

  I gasped. I was being kicked off the plane just like that? But as if in answer, the engines hummed to life then, the seatbelt sign flashing on.

  “Get out,” Mr. Evans said cruelly then, harsh streaks of color decorating his cheekbones. “You’re a lowlife, and it was my mistake getting involved. Get the fuck off my plane.”

  I couldn’t take anymore. The humiliation was complete, all these baseless accusations hurled at me like daggers to the heart. And yet the billionaire wouldn’t explain. He wouldn’t elucidate on what exactly I’d done wrong, much less which secrets I’d allegedly passed onto a competitor.

  But sometimes, you reach the end of the rope, and there’s nowhere to go. So holding my head up high, I pulled the silky robe around my curvy figure.

  “Just give me a minute to put on some shoes,” came my stilted voice. “And I’ll be out of your hair.”

  “Good,” the billionaire grunted, refusing to look at me. “The sooner the better.”

  My heart shattered then, a physical pain radiating in my chest. But I couldn’t let him see. Because this was so unfair. Thorn was accusing me of all these unjust things, and refusing to listen to my pleas. It spoke ill of the billionaire because he should have given me an opportunity to explain, or at least try and figure things out.

  But we were past that point. The plane had already rumbled to life, the seatbelt sign now an intense glare above my head. The dark man wanted me gone, and there were no two ways about it. What the boss wants is what he gets, and the only thing to do was to obey.

  So grabbing my purse and slipping on a pair of sneakers, I pulled the silk robe tight around my curves, stepping onto the staircase that led to the tarmac. The sun in Florida was so bright that my eyes squinted, heat practically rising from the black asphalt.

  But in fact, I saw nothing. Tears blinded my vision, my hand shaking as it gripped the rail, descending step by step onto the heated blacktop. And as soon as I set foot on solid land, an airport maintenance man pushed the gleaming metal staircase out of the way, gesturing for me to move back.

  “Plane’s taking off,” he said, waving his arms. “Best get out of the way.”

  With trembling knees, I walked towards the terminal although it seemed a mile away. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t keep walking without turning back, so after taking about twenty paces, my f
orm swiveled, eyes searching the Bombadier. Was Thorn at a window? Was he gesturing for me to come back to make amends? Was this all a giant mistake?

  But no. The jet backed up and then turned gracefully, looping in a U towards the runway. There was no dark head at the porthole, no sudden screech of the brakes. Like a giant machine, the sleek plane hummed mightily to life, its engines blasting with a roar. And then the bird rolled down the runway, faster, faster, faster until they were up in the sky, the white form growing smaller into the sky until it was nothing but a glint among the clouds.

  And with that, I bent over and threw up right there on the tarmac, dressed in nothing but a silky robe and sneakers. Violently, my stomach heaved, all air leaving my lungs as breakfast erupted from my throat, acidic and harsh. Because my dream had collapsed. Within five minutes, I’d gone from a woman at the top of the world, to an ant crushed beneath the heel of the king. I’d been reminded of my lowly status all too easily, and now, what did I have? Nothing but my passport in hand … and the memories of a life that was now gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Holly

  Three months later …

  Nothing’s been the same since I left Elite Air. The world is gray, and it feels like the sun never comes out. My vision is blurry, people looking the same to me, like ghosts wafting through my consciousness.

  Because without Thorn Evans, my world collapsed. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to turn without the billionaire by my side. Unbidden, my mind goes back to that last day.

  “Good riddance,” the alpha spat, pure hatred in those gleaming blue eyes. “You’re a fucking spy.”

  My heart shattered, knees trembling. Because what in the world was he talking about? But head held high, I marched off the plane without a second look, only to collapse on the tarmac below.

  But what to do after that? I was a girl with nothing, her heart torn from her chest, the air tight in my lungs. I had my passport in one hand, a silky robe pulled about my form, and a pair of neon-colored sneakers on my feet. How would I move on?

  Fortunately, airport security let me call my one and only friend. Katrina.

  “What?” the blonde gasped. “He did what? What an asshole?”

  “Please,” came my tearful reply. “Can you wire some money for a ticket?”

  “Where are you?” she asked firmly. “We need to get you out of there asap. That guy is such a fucking asshole. And for no reason too!”

  I nodded gratefully. My mind was fuzzy, recent events occupying all of my brain space. How had we come down to this? How was this possible? After all, just twenty minutes earlier I’d been contemplating a life of laughter and love with the billionaire. Yet in two seconds, I’d been booted out of his life, gone for good.

  But what did you expect? came the voice in my head. You were never equals. That was just magical thinking on your part. You got carried away, ensconced in the lap of luxury because Thorn treated you well. But there was never an ounce of reality in the scenario.

  And tears welled in my eyes again. Because it was true, I’d mistaken myself for the princess in a fairy tale. And like a real-life prince, Mr. Evans had appeared, making my problems disappear. Money was no longer an issue. The prospect of bankruptcy was gone, and my mom’s medication was suddenly affordable given my salary at Elite Air.

  But that didn’t mean that life was simple. Just because you have money doesn’t mean that problems go away. All it means is that you have a different set of problems, things that make your head swim in ways that were previously unimaginable. And right now was an example.

  Tears streamed down my cheeks again as I stood with a phone pressed against my ear.

  “I’m in Boca Raton, Florida,” came my sad whisper. “Can you send me a ticket?”

  “Of course,” replied Katrina stoutly. “I’ll get you out of there in no time. Just hang tight, Holly, don’t worry. You’ll be back in Queens before the blink of an eye.”

  True to her word, a ticket magically appeared for me at the counter, courtesy of my friend. And wearing a pair of donated sweats courtesy of the airport staff, I got onto a commercial flight and was transported home.

  But that didn’t mean my problems were over. I was too ashamed to face my mom, so I moved in with Katrina temporarily, crammed into her tiny flat. It’s awkward for sure. She lives in three hundred square feet, so we’re sardines piled on top of one another. But fortunately, Kat is gone most times at her boyfriend’s place, so it’s just me in this tiny, airless apartment.

  And today was no exception. I looked out onto the street, dingy cabs passing by, the honk of horns and passerby scurrying below. What lay beyond this street? What was around the corner? And sadly, I couldn’t say because it’s been three months since I got back, and yet I’ve barely ventured outside. That’s right, I’ve been sequestered in Kat’s apartment, the depression like a gray cloud that won’t lift. My limbs are heavy, brain foggy with hurt. I’d do anything to numb the pain, but alcohol and drugs have never had any effect on my constitution.

  So here I was again, staring out the window, my mind a fuzzy mess occasionally penetrated by a sharp stab of pain. It was literally physical sometimes, my stomach would clench, the searing white-hot heat seizing my chest and forcing me to bend over. Thorn, my brain cried. Thorn, Thorn, don’t leave me.

  But it’s too late for that. I haven’t heard from the billionaire ever since that fateful day. Total silence. Incommunicado. Just like a piece of trash tossed into the wind, I was nothing. Forgotten garbage, just another girl among a long list.

  Because he must have done this before. Elite Air exists to serve the billionaire’s whims, and my guess was that Thorn was on the phone with Helena the minute I stepped off the jet. He probably had another girl on order at the next stop, perky and ready to do his bidding. That’s how easy it was.

  Fresh tears came to my eyes, and I stood up with a jolt. Fuck this life. Misery was my constant companion, and I wandered over to the bedside table, seeing nothing. Plopping down on the mattress, my shoulders slumped, defeat emanating from every pore. I was nothing. Less than dust to the billionaire, and the knowledge tore through my soul like a bloody knife once again.

  But as a wrenching sob erupted from my chest, my eyes landed on the half-open drawer. The inside was a mess for sure. But this time, something caught my eye. It was a crumpled receipt for a flight from Boca.

  Oh right. Katrina had purchased my ticket for me since I’d been kicked off the plane with nothing but passport in hand. She’d sprung for the flight, and here was the proof. Six hundred and forty-two dollars for a one-way flight from Boca back to JFK.

  But curiously, the ticket was paid for by a company called ABC Enterprises. Weird. Was that Katrina? Couldn’t be, my friend didn’t have a job. She spent most of her time with some boyfriend or another, dependent on their wallets to pay the rent on this tiny place. So who was ABC?

  And at that moment, the front door slammed, my buddy waltzing in. Long blonde hair floated behind Kat, her make-up absolutely perfect, dressed in a winter jacket that had to cost four figures.

  “Hey Holly,” she sang. “I’m baaack! Look what Nick got me!” she giggled, holding up a bulging shopping bag. “I swear, the personal shoppers at Saks are so jealous because he buys me anything I want,” my buddy sang, licking her lips with glee. “Everyone wants to be me!”

  I nodded numbly.

  “Welcome back,” was my low mumble. I hadn’t seen Kat in a week, but that was okay. It was better to be on my own, lost in depression. I didn’t want anyone to see me in this state, anyways.

  But my friend came into the bedroom then, her expression concerned.

  “Oh Holly,” she said sympathetically, looking over my uncombed hair and morose expression. “You’ve got to pull yourself out of this slump. It’s crazy. Have you been eating? Have you gone outside? You look like a ghost, pale and lifeless.”

  I smiled wanly.

  “I’ve been sitting by the window, so there was some sunshine
,” came my half-hearted reply. “It’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad!” Kat pooh-poohed. “Please, you’re wasting away right in front of my eyes. Here,” she said, putting down her coat and purse. “Let me make you some toast at least.”

  But before Kat could waltz back to the tiny utility kitchen, I held up the receipt for my flight.

  “Kat, who paid for my ticket?” I asked hesitantly. “It says here that ABC Enterprises purchased my return flight. That isn’t you, is it?”

  Katrina laughed lightly.

  “Of course that isn’t me,” she said. “Your flight was expensive, I don’t have money like that.”

  I nodded.

  “So who is ABC then?” I asked slowly. “Was it your family? But they don’t have a corporation, do they?”

  Kat shook her head.

  “Of course not,” she said with exasperation. “My fam is lucky if they have meat on the table for dinner at nights. No, when you called I asked my boyfriend to pay for your ticket. It’s nothing to him,” she bragged. “Six hundred dollars is chump change for Nicholas.”

  My head spun.

  “Is this a new guy?” was my query. “Or is it the same one I met way back when?”

  Katrina’s eyes lit up.

  “The same,” she bragged. “From the Firehouse, remember? We went there together months ago, and you met him? He’s so loving,” she purred. “Nick buys me anything I want.”

  I nodded, but my mind churned. Because slowly, the parts were falling into place.

  “What does Nick do?” I asked slowly. “Is he in banking? Construction? Media?”

  Kat waved her hand airily.

  “A little of this, a little of that. Why?” she asked curiously, fixing me with a stare. “What does it matter? He paid for your ticket, so you feel grateful.”

  My head nodded slowly.

  “I am grateful,” were my words. “But what does your boyfriend do Katrina? And does he know Thorn Evans?”