Page 81 of Seeking Vengeance

“I guess that’s my cue to hustle.”

I shower quickly, brush my teeth, and paint on a subtle layer of makeup in record time. Then I shimmy into a long ruby sundress and fill the remaining space in the small suitcase Matthew left open for me on the bed.

“Ready?” He stands at the bedroom door, one shoulder cocked against the frame, a subtle smirk of appreciation tweaking his lips as he takes in the loose material dancing over my legs and the low neckline that cradles my breasts.

“Ready.” My heart beats a dull throb, my eyes eagerly eating up my view of him dressed head to toe in black—suit, shirt, tie.

He’s a dark prince, the stubble covering his jaw making him appear all the more devilish.

He pushes from the doorframe and prowls toward me, slow and sleek.

My body melts like it always does. My nerves flutter. I stand still, wondering if his predatory approach means we’re about to delay our departure.

He stops beside me, the grin continuing to linger as he leans around me to zip the suitcase closed and drag it to the carpet. “We don’t have time,amore mio.”

“Time for what?” I purr.

“For that look in your eye.”

He kisses my temple and takes my hand, leading me from the room, from the penthouse, then into the elevator, our mini suitcase trailing along at his side. When we reach the underground parking lot, Bishop is there to steal my buzz. He waits in his idling Lincoln, the window lowered, his arm resting on the frame.

“Morning.” He scowls at me.

“Morning.” I hold his gaze, refusing to cower under the intimidation.

“Get in.” Matthew releases my hand. “I’ll put the suitcase in the back.”

I nod, bathing in Bishop’s death glower with every step toward the rear door, then slide inside. I’ve been lucky not to have seen him since our confrontation almost a week ago. He hasn’t been to the penthouse. There’s been no talk of him at all.

Too bad it didn’t last.

“It’s so lovely to see you again,” I drawl. “What have you been up to?”

“Just the same ol’ same ol’—preparing for when my buddy’s latest conquest is going to blow shit up and make my life a living hell.”

I glare at him through the rearview mirror as Matthew opens the cargo space to store our suitcase. I wait until the trunk door is closed moments later before I say, “Well, if you’re the cleanup crew, I guess I should make sure it’s a worthwhile explosion.”

Matthew climbs in the opposite side of the Lincoln, and I’m not sure whether it’s his presence or my spite that keeps Bishop quiet. But that’s how things remain as the car exits the parking lot into the midmorning sunshine.

We drive through the city traffic, Matthew’s hand gliding over mine on the middle seat as we pass block after block, then head onto a freeway to take us toward the suburbs. I relax, expecting a long journey ahead when twenty minutes later, Bishop slows into the turn to send us to Dulles Airport.

We bypass the parking area, driving away from the main buildings and alongside the boundary fence, then come to a temporary stop before metal gates that are opened for us by a young man. Bishop inches the car into the airport yard, slowly passing one metal hangar, then another.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“It’s time for a change of transport.” Matthew caresses my fingers as Bishop breaks and shifts the car to park.

A whisper of something unwanted slips through me, the lifelong teaching of a paranoid and overly protective brother ringing in my ears.

You’re being careless. You’re putting us all in danger.

No. I know Matthew.

I might not have intimate knowledge of the events that make up his life, but I knowhim.I know his unwavering commitment. His building affection.

That’s why I didn’t ask how far we were travelling. Or who was coming with us.

I’ve learned to trust him—with my body, and now, also, my safety.

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