“Why are you looking at me like that?” Fate asks, refastening his cufflinks. Wilder will go back to Grand Haven tonight with a cut on his lip and hair he can’t contain after what I did to it between my fingers.
“How am I looking at you?”
He shakes goose feathers from his jacket and slides back into it. “You’re looking at me like you’re thinking of a way to make me stay.”
My swollen lips curve into a smile. “Oh, I know how to do that. There’s no thinking involved at all.”
His jaw tightens, and Wilder’s chest expands with a breath and a rumble. There are wrinkles in his suit that weren’t there before we stumbled into the room earlier. His undershirt is stretched out, ill-fitting under the button-up. And the strap around his ankle is empty.
The plan tonight was simple.
Distract Lucky long enough to let Talent and Wilder sneak away unnoticed for their monthly midnight meeting with the Coppolas. It sounded easy enough in the beginning, but that was before we broke the vase, cut the sheets, and declared absolute truths out loud. I knew it was love all along, but it’s different with the words out in the universe. They’ve thrown the balance off, and now there’s too much at stake with hearts on the line.
“I’ll be back for you.” He comes closer, as if he’ll slide in next to me. Wilder presses his knee on the edge of the mattress, and it pulls the sheet away from my chest. He hums, studying my bare tits, and says, “Not soon enough, but I have to go.”
Wrapping my hand around his tie, I pull him down and kiss him—not a kiss goodbye, but a be safe kiss.
A slow kiss that quickly turns frantic, and where is he going again?
Wilder holds himself up with one hand on my side, and he cradles my face with the other. But like the kiss, the grip turns from affectionate to rough. He breaks away from me with a gasp, dragging his thumb across my lips. I suck it into my mouth and circle my tongue around the tip, heat pooling between my thighs.
“Let me come with you,” I say after he pulls his thumb free. I have him atlet me come,but he dismisses the rest.
Wilder stands tall in front of me, already halfway back to Grand Haven with deadened eyes and a tight-lipped promise. He’s not a lawyer or a lover, but a hardened criminal who has something to lose now. “Those motherfuckers will never set their eyes on you again, Camilla.”
“You can’t hide me forever.”
He pulls the knife from the headboard, sprinkling splinters of wood onto the pillows. “Try me.”
I wait until he’s gone to climb out of bed, stepping over my ruined top and underwear on the floor leading to the bathroom. He’s left me with his things—cologne, an electric toothbrush, and a bottle of multivitamins that makes him seem too human for his own good. I shake the vitamins and spray his scent into the air, walking under the mist as it falls like a light rain onto my naked skin. I use his comb to brush out my hair before digging through his suitcase for something to put on.
Wearing his boxer briefs like shorts, I pull a plain black T-shirt over my head. My phone isn’t in my pants, so I tiptoe into the main living area where we smashed flowers and glass under our shoes. The cell is face down on the wall table, and as I reach for it, there’s a hard knock on the door that startles me right out of my skin.
Wilder and Talent are gone. Lydia has to have a key of her own. It’s well after ten o’clock at night, and the hotel staff would never disturb us this late unprovoked, and I didn’t call for extra towels. I hold my breath and stand still, hoping that whoever’s at the door will just leave if they think the suite is empty. My entire body rocks with nervousness, and worry’s a lump in my throat.
When the pounding resumes, louder than the first time, I clap my hands over my mouth and I step back onto a sliver of broken glass, whining at the cutting pain.
The knocking stops, and I’m afraid I was heard.
I stamp small dots of blood onto the marble floor limping to the door. No one without a key can get into the room. No unauthorized person should be able to get past security or access the top two floors of the hotel without a reservation, and the Ridges reserved every single suite. Telling myself there’s nothing to be afraid of, I rest my shaky palms on the door to look out the peephole.
The hallway is empty.
“Didn’t think I’d hear from you until morning,” Lydia says, answering her phone after the first ring.
I hold my cell phone between my cheek and my shoulder, lifting my foot onto the coffee table to pull the small shard of glass from it. “You didn’t happen to come by and knock on the door like the police, did you?”
Her tone is suddenly grave. “I’ll be right there.”
Extravagance is worthless. I’m surrounded by wealth and luxury, and my every desire is at my fingertips. I could call guest services and say my pillows aren’t soft enough, and they’d send better ones. Anything I want to eat, drink, watch, or wear is on demand. High-profile politicians, royal families, and movie stars stay at The Marquis—a five-star hotel based on accommodations and safety. Despite this, I’d feel better in Grand Haven with the neighborhood watch wandering around in neon green vests.
I pull up Wilder’s name in my phone, hovering over thecallbutton when Lydia appears, carrying a bouquet of roses so red they’re almost black. She kicks the door shut with her foot and closes the swing bar.
“There’s a fucking card.” Lydia holds it up between her thumb and pointer finger. The words are illegible from the couch, but I’d recognize that handwriting anywhere. “Did anyone see you? Talk to you? What happened?”
Luca Coppola was here, and he brought flowers. My skin turns ice-cold, and my heart plummets. Lydia drops the roses into the trash can and rips the card, never telling me what it says.
“No,” I say, pulling on the ends of my hair. “I didn’t see anyone, but Lydia…”
