Oh, the irony, she mused.
Freedom was in sight and so close she could almost taste it. But themomentshe shoved open that door, the alarms would sound for certain, and no doubt security cameras would immediately flash to the area breached. If security hadn’t seen her yet, they’d know in that instant.
It wasn’t too late. Not yet. She could turn around. Go back upstairs. Pretend she’d only been looking for one of her bridesmaids or something. Make up a story about needing Ana or—something.
She could marry a billionaire in a dress looking more than a little worse for wear now that she’d belly flopped over railings, but itcouldstill happen.
Realistically all she had to do was dump something down the front of her dress to hide the stains she’d acquired during her little jaunt to freedom and make an excuse, and she’d have a boutique with at least ten decent options at the door in a matter of minutes.Thatwas the power of Rhys Lachlan’s money. Of being his almost wife.
If she were going to change her mind and go back, though, this was it.
The moment of truth.
Was she really leaving her beautifully gorgeous, perfectly fine, billionaire fiancé at the altar?
His handsome face came to mind, and her heart squeezed in her chest. Rhyswasn’ta bad guy. Not at all. He was smart and generous as well as a bit ruthless, because one didn’t get to be a millionaire or a billionaire’sheirby not being a little cutthroat when needed.
Those qualities were some of the many reasons her father demanded she accept Rhys’s proposal. But when she thought of the future.Herfuture…
Love was a fickle, elusive fairylike creature who disappeared like wine in an open bottle whenever Quinley considered life with him lately.
So run already, her mind screamed. Run before it’s too late and you marry someone you don’t love enough!
After a last look to make sure the hallway was relatively clear to either head toward the exit—or back to the freight elevator she’d taken from the penthouse—she took a breath, picked a direction, and wiggle-ran her designer-covered behind toward the sunlight streaming into the tinted exit door, shoving it hard and wincing at the shrill scream of the alarm while sucking in an anxiety-ridden inhalation that was a mix of horror and a soundless sob.
No turning back now.
The door opened to a one-way street lined with parked luxury vehicles on both sides, a narrow lane between, and she ran with the laughable speed of an inch worm as she made her way toward the very end of the street after spying the broad back of a limo driver unlocking his vehicle as he approached it.
Hurry,her mind screamed.He’s leaving!
The man dropped behind the steering wheel and seconds later the vehicle roared to life. Quinley pushed herself to go faster, the lack of air making her head whirl. She made it to the limo and ripped open the passenger door before mermaid-diving inside.
The driver’s “Hey!” fell on deaf ears as she fish-flopped on the leather seat until she could twist her legs and feet inside, and shut the door with a slam, uncaring that the train probably dragged the asphalt outside.
Every breath was a too-shallow pant due to the tight dress, but air stalled completely when she managed to get a look at the limo driver.
“You’ve got things out of order, sweetheart. First you marry the dude, andthenyou get in the limo for the honeymoon,” the man said.
The getaway guy looked to be around her age and had a devilishly handsome face, but that wasn’t the alarming part.
No, he hadBlackwellgenes etched in every molecule of his inky dark hair and fathomless dark eyes, and she reeled from the impossibility that of all the vehicles there and available to aid in her freedom flight, she’d chosenthisone.
Ana was going tokillher a second time over for dragging her fiancé, Cole, and the rest of the Blackwell brothers into her debacle of a wedding escape. “Please tell me you’re not Gage.”
All the Blackwell siblings operated an umbrella of businesses between them, but the black car and limo service was the brainchild of Cole Blackwell, Ana’s fiancé, who’d partnered with his brother Gage to expand their rentals business. A few months back, she’d even helped Ana come up with a social media campaign to get the car service off the ground.
This couldn’t be happening. But maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t?
“I’m not Gage,” he repeated in a gravelly voice that would sound sexy reading a boring tech manual. He’d canted his head at her query, his gaze sliding over her panting, sweaty andmummifiedform. “I’m Elias. Gage is covering the rentals building, so I offered to drive for him and Cole, so Cole could attendyourwedding.”
A near-hysterical huff bubbled from her chest.Not anymore.“Yeah, about that. We can go now,” she urged, trying to sound breezy and flippant, but the words emerged shrill and high-pitched.
Sooty black eyelashes blinked twice at her and looked more than a little pissed at her words, though she wasn’t sure why. She also wondered dazedly if he had any clue how much women had to pay for that kind of lash thickness.
That thought brought another, this one leaving her choking down a panic-ridden sob.
Her makeup for today had cost a fortune in and of itself, and while Rhys was supposed to coverallthe expenses of the wedding, being the billionaire he was—would that still be the case if she didn’t walk down the aisle? And her father— He certainly wouldn’t pay a penny of it after this.
