by Mia Caldwell
“Your signature affirms that your acceptance of funds came with unspecified future obligations.”
She struggled to digest his statement. She spotted a line about obligations highlighted in the top contract. It hadn’t been highlighted when she’d signed the paper, not to her recollection. But then, she hadn’t read the thing closely, had she?
She’d been so eager for the financial relief, so happy that she’d been selected for the special new program, she hadn’t been thinking properly, hadn’t taken care. Sabela felt ill, her stomach churning. She’d been stupid — very, very stupid.
And now, some man she didn’t know was telling her she had to just up and leave? To go wherever he wanted? Damn.
Retaining the envelope the man had given her, Sabela refolded the contract papers and handed them to the man. She had to wiggle her way out of this mess. Maybe if she talked to this Mr. Morgan, she could make him understand that she hadn’t read the contract closely, hadn’t known the money was a loan. Perhaps he’d —
It was maddening, the whole situation. The suited man’s expression grew fiercer by the moment. She didn’t have the courage to ask another question. Fear washed over her and spurred her into action.
Sabela turned and rushed into her room, her heart beating wildly against her ribcage. The envelope in her hand burned her fingers. She’d been so stupid … and desperate. So ridiculously desperate. And now it was time to pay the piper.
She carefully took her passport out of the lockbox underneath her bed.
The passport had been her way of trying to keep herself motivated with design. It was on her bucket list to go to Paris and attend fashion week.
The passport hadn’t had any use at all since she’d gotten it two years ago. Now it would be used to take her to some mystery location with a mystery man to do something mysterious with another mystery man.
Not exactly what she’d had in mind when she’d decided to get a passport.
She stuck it into her purse and thought of Trevor. Should she go tell him that she was about to leave for longer than a double shift at the restaurant? No. It would only agitate him, especially since she had no idea where she was going or when she would be back.
She’d call someone, maybe one of her fellow waitresses at work. She’d ask them to check in and make sure Trevor really was taken care of the way the suited man had promised.
Would they do that for her? She didn’t know. She wasn’t close to any of them. She wasn’t close to anyone. She didn’t have time for friends. All her old ones had moved on without her.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t be gone more than a day. Sabela didn’t want Trevor to worry. He might be an asshole to her, but she believed he loved her, and would miss her. And they were all each other had.
When Sabela returned to the hall, the man stood in the threshold of the open door as if he thought she’d try to run past him, to escape. She considered the idea, briefly.
“Ready?” he asked.
“What if I’m not? What if I say I won’t go?” Her heart hammered in her ears.
The suited man’s stare turned even darker. “That would be up to Mr. Morgan to decide. And the authorities, I would presume. You should ask yourself how much you owe, and what you believe the consequences of not living up to your obligations would be.”
Sabela could only imagine, and it was terrible indeed. She envisioned herself in a jail cell and her handicapped brother sleeping in a rat-infested alley.
“Ready?” the suited man asked once more.
She couldn’t run anyway. She had a debt that needed to be repaid, an obligation. She’d taken a lot of money from this Mr. Morgan, and now it was time to pay up.
She swallowed and nodded her head slowly. “Ready.”
She felt numb all over, and with her gaze downcast, Sabela followed the man out the door. She was off to meet her fate.
Chapter Three
COLIN SAT STRAIGHT-BACKED IN his plush leather chair and drummed his fingertips against the antique teak wood of his desk. Upon it were only a few items, but out of them, only one mattered: the phone.
If he didn’t stop worrying, he’d scratch the polished finish as his fingers beat their anxious rhythm. But Colin didn’t care. What was a scratch or two in the grand scheme of things?
For the last few months, imagining this moment had been a constant refrain. Now it was here. As soon as he got the call, he’d know that everything had gone according to plan.
One of the phone lines started to blink. It was his private line.
Colin’s heart skipped a beat, and he snatched the phone out of its cradle. “Morgan,” he barked, near breathless with excitement.
The voice on the other end was toneless. “She’s in the sedan.”
“Don’t let her out of your sight. Make sure she gets on the plane. No other stops. No calls. Nothing,” Colin said.
“You got it, boss.”
“Did she give you any trouble?” Colin asked.
“You mean other than looking scared shitless? No, no trouble.”
“Good. Go straight to the air field. Keep her off balance. Make sure it happens.”
Colin hung up the phone without any further instructions. The hard part was out of the way, and there would be no further complications. Colin had turned the scenario over in his mind so many times that he was sure of it.
Get the girl and put her on the plane on the predetermined schedule. No fuss. No muss.
Nothing was simpler than that. Nor more complicated, if she’d refused to cooperate. But she had done exactly as Colin had predicted she would. She’d been too scared to do otherwise. Perfect.
Beside the phone sat a thick file folder. Colin had fostered its growth over the last few months, and although he knew its contents well, he couldn’t resist flipping open the cover to glance at the first paper set atop the stack.
The application that had started it all.
Application of Assistance for Emergency Medical and Living Expenses, the form read. Beneath, in a feminine hand, under paragraph after paragraph of deliberately confusing legalese, was the signature that had sealed her doom.
Ms. Sabela Vaughn.
At long last, after all these years, Colin would get what he’d been craving.
Chapter Four
SABELA SAT IN THE BACK SEAT OF the sedan, watching the man in the suit stand on the broken sidewalk outside her apartment building and make a call. With the doors and windows closed, she couldn’t hear what he said. Still, the conversation made her uneasy.
The call didn’t last long. The man opened the door and got behind the wheel.
He started the car. “Buckle up.”
“Where are we going?” Sabela asked. If she was getting whisked away to another country, she thought she deserved to know which one.
The man pulled out into the street, ignoring her question. “It doesn’t matter. You should know that Mr. Morgan prefers that you refrain from any outside communications. That includes emails, text messages, and phone calls. If you can’t comply with these wishes, I have been instructed to take your phone.”
What the hell had she gotten into? One red flag after another warned her that whatever was about to happen wasn’t in her best interest.
But when was the last time Sabela’s life had been about her own best interests?
“I don’t have anyone to email or call,” she said, barely managing to keep her anger in check at having to make the admission.
It was the sad truth.
Other than Trevor, she wasn’t close to anyone else. Not anymore. Working double shifts and taking care of her paralyzed brother took all her time and every ounce of her energy.
“Where are we going?” Sabela asked again, clinging to a false bravado. She wasn’t sure that the man would answer her, but she had to insist, if not for herself, then for Trevor.
“Buckle up and sit tight, Miss Vaughn. We’ll get you safe and sound where you need to go.”
Whoever this Mr. Morgan wa
s, Sabela was starting to suspect that he was someone to be feared. Why else would the man in the suit be so vague?
“And where is it that I need to go, exactly?” she persisted. She couldn’t let him spirit her away without any further explanation, not when there was so much at stake. Her hand strayed toward the door handle. She could hop out when they stopped for a light or something, if need be.
“To meet Mr. Morgan,” the man replied.
Right. She’d already guessed that much.
She wasn’t going to get anything out of this guy. Sabela took the envelope out of her purse, running her fingertips over its flap and over the embossed M.
The note was written in a masculine hand. Had Mr. Morgan written it himself?
These thoughts, Sabela recognized, were a distraction from the dread of the unknown. The car zipped through traffic. It seemed there was little chance of getting out of this mess. What would the man in the suit do if she screamed for help?
He wouldn’t take it kindly, she guessed. Sabela didn’t want to know what sort of a man lurked beneath his controlled exterior.
Besides, what would she say if someone heard her screams and came to her aid? Just because she was having second thoughts about letting a stranger whisk her away, didn’t mean she was being kidnapped or something. Did it?
City buildings whizzed by beyond her window as the car sped onward. When would she see them again?
Would she see them again?
They had to be headed to the airport. Sabela sat back in her seat and pressed her forehead against the tinted window. There were too many questions and not enough answers.
And there were even more questions a half hour later when the car took a turn away from the airport. What was happening? She’d presumed the airport was where they were headed. The man in the suit wasn’t going to drive her into another country, was he?
“Hey, what’s happening?” Sabela asked, noticing how panicky her voice sounded. “Where are we going? Tell me!”
Her only answer was the mechanical whirr of the partition between the front and back seats rising. The thick glass clicked into place to separate her from the man in the suit. He wasn’t interested in fielding any more of her questions.
She took several deep breaths, calming herself. Be strong. Don’t let him intimidate you. If he was going to be like that, she’d have to take matters into her own hands.
Glancing up to make sure the man’s gaze was on the road and not on the rear view mirror, Sabela dug into her purse and took out her phone.
Should she call the police? Tell them that she was being whisked away against her will?
It would have been a lie. Sabela traced her fingers around the edges of her phone, thinking it through. Even if she called the police, nothing would come of it.
She’d allowed herself to be led from her apartment and into the sedan of her own free will. The man in the suit hadn’t taken her phone, and he’d only asked her not to reach out to anybody, not enforced it. What were the police going to do?
The man hadn’t done anything wrong. And if she caused trouble for Mr. Morgan, what would the repercussions be? She owed him so much money.
Sabela was the one who’d made the mistake that had led to all of this, not the man in the front seat. For the last couple of months she had received money, and lots of it, from a mysterious benefactor. There was no denying that.
She recalled the day the first fat deposit arrived in her bank account. It was like a gift from a guardian angel. She remembered with perfect clarity how much weight had been lifted off her spirit when she saw her available balance. A moment of bliss, pure bliss.
And now this.
There had never been any indication that the money needed to be repaid. Except for in the contracts, of course … which she barely skimmed before she signed.
Now Mr. Morgan had come knocking, and he wanted his money back, her promised obligation, assuming both were one and the same.
Sabela’s few months of financial relief were over, obliterated. Sabela had nearly gotten used to not having men knocking down her door demanding money she didn’t have.
But now her biggest debt was due, whether she’d realized she had one or not.
There would be no more burying her head in the sand. Sabela was young, but she wasn’t naïve. Things weren’t ever given for free.
Even guardian angels had their price.
Chapter Five
THE TRIP TO SWITZERLAND WAS uneventful. Colin took conference calls and caught up on work so he could devote more time to personal matters. Currently, his schedule needed fluidity. The less work he had to do while at the chalet, the better.
Everything was under control, and that fact tempered the roiling burn of his usual state of mind.
It was a long drive from the airport, which Colin usually enjoyed. Switzerland was a beautiful country, from the charming houses to the cobblestone streets, but nothing could compare to the mountains.
The Swiss Alps were breathtaking.
Jagged peaks dipped in snow set against a blue sky. The mountain range decorated the horizon. Beauty like this was hard to come by, and the first time he’d seen it, Colin knew he had to make it his.
Tucked within the heart of the Alps was Colin’s chalet. Sleek wood design paired with old-world European beauty had attracted him from the first time he’d seen it, and he’d put in his bid to buy it the next day.
He’d closed on the property in record time.
Who would’ve thought that a kid from the wrong side of the tracks would end up with a multi-million dollar chalet in the Swiss Alps? Then again, who would have ever thought that a boy like Colin Morgan would have amounted to anything at all?
Practically no one. No one, other than his mother, had thought Colin would amount to more than a bum. Some might have placed wagers on him becoming a career felon, but they’d have lost their bets.
Colin Morgan had grown up to become a billionaire.
The impossibility of it still boggled his mind at times. Granted, Colin had always been a quick learner, and his mother had taught him the value of hard work. She herself had worked as a waitress at a rundown diner right up until the end.
His mother’s infectious, warm smile was still branded in his memory. She’d often tell him, “If you put your mind to it, there’s nothing you can’t do. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, my son.”
Her belief in him had meant everything, and did to this day.
If only she were alive to see him now. Billions of dollars of assets and liquid funds at his disposal, numerous properties around the world, and a successful business he’d taken from a small-town establishment and grown into an internationally acknowledged chain, Colin had made it.
Eight years of hard work was all it took to set him up for life.
His mother would be proud. And he believed his father, who passed away when Colin was young, would have been proud, too.
As successful as Colin was, he still felt the sting of what he couldn’t have. There was another life he’d once wanted, a life that was no longer an option. Four years ago. He’d lost everything that had really mattered.
Blanca.
Colin swallowed the knot forming in his throat and stared out the window instead. His driver, Bruno, wasn’t talkative today, and Colin was grateful for it. The trip to the chalet was spent in silence.
How had it been so long since the accident? It seemed like a lifetime and the blink of an eye at the same time.
The familiar pangs of grief hit, and he shifted in his seat as he processed the pain. Four years might as well have been four minutes, he still missed her so.
He took several deep breaths, and chided himself for giving in to the weakness of sentiment. He told himself to stay focused, that soon he’d get what he needed … and what Blanca deserved.
The car crawled through the switchbacks leading to the chalet. Located outside of Andermatt, the site was secluded. It was isolated, serene, and best of all, his and his a
lone.
It was the perfect place for his plot to unfold.
And that plan was well underway. Colin had been preparing months in advance.
Step one was easy. Sabela was en route. Ensnaring her had been well worth the minor financial investment. All he had to do was snap his fingers, and her old debt had disappeared like the flame of a match thrown into a bucket of water. Her new debt belonged to him.
Step two wouldn’t be as simple, but Colin was confident it would go as planned. He had it worked out.
Making Sabela fall in love wouldn’t be hard, not out here in the mountains, far away from everything she knew. Flaunting his wealth wouldn’t hurt, either. Women were all the same, and they all loved money. God knew he had that part covered.
Sabela Vaughn was only an average waitress from nowhere. In the grand scheme of things, she counted for little and was nothing but a pawn in his game. She’d do exactly what he expected her to do, to be shallow and gullible and easy to use.
A voice whispered in his mind … his mother’s voice. She reminded him that everyone counted, and that she thought she’d taught him better. For shame, son, she said.
A spike of guilt sent heat spiraling up his neck and onto his cheeks. It annoyed him that his conscience always spoke in his mother’s gentle tones. It annoyed him even more that he’d been chided a lot lately.
He wouldn’t listen, though. His conscience was confused. Colin’s plan was all about justice.
Revenge.
The single word floated in his head, not something he wanted to hear.
What you’re doing isn’t about justice, the tone of the voice implied. Revenge is actually what this is about, all these plans and schemes you’ve put into motion.
Colin watched his glorious chalet come into view and let the beauty salve his festering doubts. The brilliant sun backlit the spectacular structure, and sparkled on the pristine powder layered over the grounds.
Pristine. Untouched.
Colin rolled the words around in his mind. And again his thoughts returned to Blanca.