by Mia Caldwell
Oh, who was she kidding? The real truth was, down under it all, she hadn’t read the fine print for one very crucial reason — deep down, she’d been afraid she’d read something in there that would force her to turn down the aid. So she hadn’t read the contracts. Instead, she’d stuck her head in the sand and pretended everything was fine.
Money. Debt. Fear. Obligations.
Sabela could only hope the tenuous relief she’d basked in for a short while was worth the price she’d soon be paying.
“Ms. Vaughn?” the stewardess asked.
Sabela snapped out of her thoughts. The waitress held out a flute of champagne by its slender stem.
“I, um …” Sabela murmured.
A drink was the last thing she wanted, but even as she spoke, the stewardess lifted a small tray attached to the outside arm of the chair and set the drink down.
“A French ’75, ma’am,” the stewardess told her.
Sabela didn’t know a ’75 from a ’95 from a 2015, of course, but she nodded like she did. “Thank you.”
The stewardess bowed her head and turned to leave, but Sabela didn’t want her to go just yet.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Ms. Vaughn?”
“Can you tell me where we’re going?”
The flight attendant flashed her a practiced smile. “We’re on our way to Switzerland, Ms. Vaughn.”
There. That wasn’t so hard. What was the man in the suit’s problem, anyway? Why hadn’t he told her she was being whisked across the Atlantic Ocean to a different continent, to Switzerland, where she knew no one? She didn’t even know what language they spoke there.
And she’d be totally dependent on a man named Morgan who she’d never met and had no reason whatsoever to trust. A man who demanded she pay … something.
Yeah, so, that would be why the man in the suit wouldn’t tell her where she was going. She might not have stepped onto the jet if she’d known. Undoubtedly, he’d realized that.
At twenty-four years old she’d barely been out of the city, let alone to Europe.
“Where in Switzerland?” she asked the attendant, not that the answer would mean anything to her. It did seem, however, that it was something one should ask.
And if the stewardess was going to be open with her, Sabela wanted to take advantage. Knowing everything she could about where she was going and who Mr. Morgan was would be essential to making sure she got out of this mess.
But Sabela had pressed her luck too far.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t divulge any further details.” The stewardess looked uneasy. “I wasn’t even supposed to tell you where we’re going. I’m sorry.”
“Why not?” Sabela demanded. “Did Mr. Morgan tell you not to talk to me?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can only say Mr. Morgan is looking forward to meeting you.”
The stewardess dashed away.
It didn’t make any sense. First, the man in the suit and his tight-lipped insistence not to share details, and now the frightened stewardess. Why keep Sabela in the dark?
Whoever Mr. Morgan was, Sabela needed to be prepared for the worst.
Sabela watched the bubbles rise from the bottom of the flute of champagne, thinking through her situation. Asking others hadn’t helped her so far, so she was going to have to take matters into her own hands.
She pulled out her phone.
With the stewardess gone and no one else on the flight to tell her not to, Sabela had a whole world of information at her fingers.
Since she was already on the plane and on her way to see Mr. Morgan, she didn’t want to chance it by going against his rules and reaching out to anyone to tell them where she was going. But that wouldn’t stop her from doing her own research about the mess she was caught up in.
There was open Wi-Fi on the jet, and Sabela connected to it. It didn’t matter if Mr. Morgan saw what she was typing. If he was going to punish her for trying to learn about him, it was worth it.
Punish her. What a strange thought to have.
A quick search including “Mr. Morgan” and the name of the relief organization from the financial aid application were all she needed, Sabela was sure. A relief company like that would have a bio on its CEO, and she was sure that CEO had to be Mr. Morgan.
But nothing came up.
Frowning, Sabela tried a few different search terms, but each time the results weren’t related to what she was seeking. It was as if the relief organization didn’t exist at all.
Sabela put her phone down and set the French ’75 aside. Until she knew more about her benefactor and why his staff acted scared of him, she wasn’t going to trust anything he offered.
All Sabela knew was that she owed Mr. Morgan money. A lot of money. If he was taking her away from everything she knew, to somewhere that she knew nothing, it was to gain an advantage over her.
He was looking to make her weak.
But she would stand strong, just like she always had. She was used to going it alone and counting only on herself.
Mr. Morgan could intimidate his staff all he wanted, but she wouldn’t let him get to her. She’d remain determined and calm, no matter what he demanded she do to repay her debt.
What was the worst he could do, anyway?
A cold chill crept up her spine.
On second thought, Sabela thought with a frown, maybe it was better she didn’t think about it.
The stewardess had to be spooked for a reason.
She picked up her phone to call her provider and add international service to her cell plan.
Chapter Eight
THE DARK SEDAN WOVE THROUGH the thin mountain paths, going slow so as not to lose traction on the fresh powder. Colin watched its approach from Haberlin Chalet, his arms folded against his muscular chest.
The snowstorm had let up just enough to allow passage, and by the darkness of the sky, Colin knew it wouldn’t be long before it started snowing again. The road back to Andermatt would become unusable. With any luck, before it opened up again, Sabela would never want to leave.
“Mr. Morgan,” Marie said softly behind him.
Colin turned. “Yes, Marie?”
“I just wanted to tell you that I am happy for you. It’s been so long that you’ve been lonely. Whoever this girl is, she must be special to have seen through who you pretend to be to see who you really are.”
The words gave Colin reason to pause. His lips were parted, but no reply came forth. Marie wasn’t one to discuss something so personal. In fact, she’d never expressed an opinion about him one way or the other.
He wasn’t sure if he liked this turn of events. She’d said, “Who you pretend to be.” What could she possibly know about that?
Before he could decide on his response to her presumption, she touched him lightly on the arm.
Her gaze met his and she smiled, her eyes kind, full of love and life. “I’m looking forward to meeting her. I hope she’ll love it here with us, and that this visit will be a long one.”
Marie wasn’t privy to his plans, and she had the wrong idea. Colin longed to set her straight, to tell her that she should do her job and not get attached to any strange notions that might have entered her head.
Perhaps she was menopausal and having a hormone-induced meltdown. He’d have to keep an eye on her around Sabela. Just what he needed, another detail to attend to.
He pursed his lips and dipped his chin. “Do your job with your usual care, and I’m sure her comfort during her stay will be more than adequate. That’s all that need concern you.”
He couldn’t miss the disappointment that made Marie’s face fall. It was only a flash, however, before she straightened her back and transformed herself back into the alert, yet dispassionate professional Colin was accustomed to.
“Of course, Mr. Morgan. As you wish,” she said.
“Thank you …”
He might have said more, but he saw, thorough the windows, out of the corner of his eye, that the car was
pulling into the driveway. Precious cargo had finally arrived.
Marie stepped aside, giving him the space he needed to move around her and head to the main hall.
He looked around the place as he went. One last check.
The chalet was spotless and gleaming. The views were fantastic. And Colin?
He stopped in front of a large mirror in the main hall and eyed himself critically.
Dressed in a custom-made suit that fit his body like a glove, dark blond hair styled flawlessly, darker beard stylishly short, complexion without fault, and posture straight and confident, he’d left no detail undone.
He was as handsome as he could be. It would have to be enough. It would be enough. His money alone would be all he needed. Sabela wouldn’t be able to resist that.
Everything was set up for his success. He held all the cards while Sabela’s hands were empty.
Did she gasp when she set her gaze upon the chalet for the first time? Was it short and abrupt, almost hitched, or longer and deeper, grabbing at the thinner mountain air, oxygen deprived from altitude and anticipation?
There was no way she wouldn’t be impressed.
Would she recognize him? Of course not. Despite the connection to her family, Sabela would never clue in to who Colin was.
Their home town of Brent Grove wasn’t a huge city, yet Sabela wouldn’t remember who Colin used to be.
Colin himself could barely remember.
He headed to the front, hitting a switch along the way and turning on the stereo system. A soft cello concerto filled the otherwise quiet space, romantic and broody.
He stepped in front of the main doors just as they swung open.
Sabela walked inside, hesitant and frightened, her pretty face strained from the stress of travel, and undoubtedly from the situation itself.
Her long, wavy dark hair was slightly tousled, sexy, and her makeup practically nonexistent. She didn’t need it. High cheekbones stood out prominently on her heart-shaped face. Her golden-toned, brown skin glowed in the light, and her long slender neck was so smooth and flawless, he felt an immediate urge to kiss it. And then the rest of her.
His cock throbbed once, hard. Another unwelcome development. He scowled, displeased.
Sabela barely met his gaze before glancing away. Marie rushed forward, greeting the young woman, shutting the doors, and clucking around her. The housekeeper took Sabela’s coat and commented that she hoped Sabela liked it, since Marie had picked it out for her and sent it to be waiting at the airport for Sabela’s arrival.
Sabela mumbled a distracted thanks. Her gaze flickered around the hall, never pausing on one spot for long. She looked as impressed and overwhelmed as he’d hoped she would.
Though he tried unsuccessfully to avoid it, Colin surveyed Sabela’s body. She was just his type: small-waisted, long-legged, and curvy in all the right places.
The pastel pink uniform and white apron she’d been wearing in the pictures from Pinkie’s Diner didn’t do her justice. Long, shapely legs were shown off through her ripped jeans, and the sweater she had on hugged her breasts in just the right way.
He looked back up at her eyes, deep brown and sparkling as she surveyed her surroundings. A tiny worry line ran between her expressive brows. It was good she was worried. She should be. That had been the plan, after all.
Once more, his cock gave a throb of appreciation.
Sabela was breathtaking in a way that not even the Swiss mountain ranges could compare.
Marie continued to mother the girl, asking her if her trip went well, if she’d been taken care of properly, if she’d wanted for anything, explained how Colin had demanded her every comfort be seen to. On and on.
Time to put a stop to all the fussing. Sabela Vaughn was there for one purpose and one purpose only, and that was to fall madly in love with Colin. There was nothing in the plan about reciprocation, and there never would be. Marie best get over the notion that Sabela might be around for long.
Sabela was a tool, and she would never be anything more.
“I like the music,” Sabela said to the housekeeper, her voice low but steady.
She had expressed a preference for the cello during her initial interview with the representative of the false charity. Colin had been pleasantly surprised. The sweet, low notes of the cello had always appealed to him. And he hadn’t been forced to snoop out new music as he’d anticipated.
And that wasn’t the only thing he and Sabela had in common, according to her answers.
He shook those kinds of thoughts from his head.
Marie stood between them, looking from one to the other, her stance and features expressing an awkwardness. There was silence.
Colin finally stepped forward. “Ms. Vaughn. Welcome,” he said in his deepest, most commanding tone.
He expected her to hesitate, perhaps stutter a response. Maybe she’d whisper, she’d be so frightened. She wouldn’t be able to meet his eye.
Instead, she met his gaze and spoke in an appealing, bell-like tone. “I won’t say that it’s a pleasure, Mr. Morgan, but I’ll thank you for your hospitality all the same.”
What was this? Had she really dared to stand up to him?
She eyed him carefully, studying his face in particular. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
Chapter Nine
COLIN HARDENED HIS STANCE. IF Sabela wasn’t going to be distracted by the scenery or his body, he was going to have to be firm in his redirection. The rest of his plan hinged on her cooperation, and if she pieced together who he was too soon, it would spell disaster.
Colin wouldn’t allow that to happen. A little flattery would do the trick.
“No,” he said. “I would have remembered meeting such a stunningly beautiful woman as yourself.”
He longed to twirl that pink and gold matchbook between his fingers to ease some of the anxiety away.
Sabela hesitated, clearly taken by surprise. According to the research that had been conducted, it had been a long time since she’d received any attention from the opposite sex beyond the crude come-ons she got at the diner. He knew that what he said wouldn’t be taken lightly.
“Why don’t the two of you have something to drink?” Marie asked, breaking the tension.
Colin rather wished she hadn’t, but there was no help for it. “Ms. Vaughn, would you join me for a drink?” he asked.
He followed behind her as they made their way into the lounge, carefully keeping his gaze from the sultry curves of her gently swaying hips and ass.
In the lounge, he let Sabela wander over to the big windows. He watched with pleasure as she reacted with all the admiration he’d have wanted. He offered her a glass of champagne from the new bottle Marie had put on ice before the young woman’s arrival.
Sabela hesitated. “I don’t drink much,” she mumbled. “And I’m a little tired … and cold.”
Marie bustled forward. “Of course you are. And I expected as much, so I made you a lovely pot of hot chocolate just in case. It’ll warm you right up. We’re all about chocolate here in Switzerland, you know. Nothing like it the world over.”
Sabela smiled for the first time, her teeth flashing as sparkling white as new-fallen snow on the surrounding mountain peaks. “Oh, yes please. That sounds perfect.
Colin didn’t appreciate that Marie had anticipated Sabela’s needs better than he himself had. He did admit that it was good to see Sabela more relaxed as she watched Marie pour out the hot chocolate into a delicate porcelain cup.
Before Marie could serve the chocolate, Colin stepped forward, took the cup and dismissed her. She hustled out of the room after saying a brief farewell to Sabela.
He handed the cup to the waiting Sabela.
As she took it, her fingertips brushed against his. A spark shot through Colin, and he pulled his hand away quickly.
Sabela Vaughn ignited a part of him that had long been suppressed, and she was dangerous for it. Why her? Yes, she was beautiful, but he had known many
beautiful women. The answer had to be —
Of course, the answer was that she was the most important piece of his carefully constructed plan. Naturally, his reaction to her would be different, heightened. She was as crucial right now as she would eventually be dispensable.
He’d have to manage his attraction. He would need to accept that the next week might be more challenging than he’d originally anticipated. Plans might need to be altered slightly to account for it.
“Thank you, Mr. Morgan,” she said.
There was a cautious tone to her voice that fascinated him, as though she suspected he might bite. All the better.
“Please, call me Colin,” he said, smiling casually. “You’re my guest. Can’t have you standing on ceremony while you’re under my roof.”
“Then call me Sabela, not Ms. Vaughn,” she replied. “So we’re even.”
She was trying to get a feel for him. Colin was a master negotiator and knew all the tricks. As young and inexperienced as she was, she wouldn’t get far with him.
Now that Marie was gone, they could get to business. To Colin’s surprise, Sabela took the initiative and started the conversation for him.
“With all due respect, Colin, why am I here?” she asked bluntly, the question strained and tinged with anger.
“Is a vacation to the Swiss Alps not reason enough?” Colin asked.
“No. I know better. This is about my so-called obligation to you … for the money.”
The sound of cellos navigating complex musical scores filled the pause. Colin took his time, strolled over to the bar and poured himself a few fingers of bourbon. He tipped his drink to his lips and savored the taste.
Sabela would wait until he was ready to answer. She watched his every movement, more patient and put together than other women he’d known.
He stepped out from behind the bar. “I think you might already know the answer to why you’re here.”
“Do you expect me to sleep with you?”
Colin almost spit out his drink. He hoped his surprise hadn’t shown on his face, and he tried to be casual as he swirled the bourbon around in the glass.