Page 47 of The Billionaires' Gamble
I take his hand because I might not deserve it, but I want the chance to apologize. To clear the air.
Side by side, we jog back to the townhouse, feet eating up the distance. As hell bent as I was to get away, I feel an equal urgency to get back to her. To spill my guts and my secrets and apologize and yes, even grovel.
We’re a half a block away, the front facade in sight, when an SUV slams on the brakes in the middle of the road. I stumble to a stop, King at my side, as our bodyguards flank us.
A handful of people in dark clothes hop out of the SUV and race across the sidewalk toward the front door. Our front door.
There’s a flash of a gun firing, but hardly any sound, then a scream.
“Wha—” The words die on King’s lips as we see an unmistakable waterfall of golden-red hair.
My feet move, carrying me forward on nothing but adrenaline. But immediately, two burly arms wrap around me from behind, halting my movements.
“Let me go—” I grunt, fighting not just for my freedom, but for hers.
“We can’t do that, Mr. Rothburn,” one of my guys says, his breath hot on my neck. Beside me, Kingston’s body man is holding him back as well.
And down the road, in front of the gorgeous brownstone that was quickly becoming home, a man shoves Katherine into the back of the vehicle. The tires squeal as it peels away.
16
ALEX
“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes, Mr. Hunt,” my pilot says. Vera Lundström’s voice is cool and efficient, with a tiny trace of her Swedish accent.
That ETA is good news because I’m eager to get off this plane and get some answers. It’s hard, sometimes, to let people do their job and not demand an update every other minute. That doesn’t stop me from reaching for my phone and checking for incoming messages.
But there’s nothing new.
I sit back in the plush chair, wishing Katherine were with me this time. I need her soothing presence. That sharp wit and calm demeanor. The sweetness that hides her claws.
My thumb hovers over the screen, scrolling through the photos Katherine and I took in Paris. What’s not documented is that kiss in the rain, but it’s seared in my brain, on my lips. The way my heart nearly beat out of my chest for her.
Is it too soon to go back?
We could all go. The four of us. Get lost in the city. Eat our weight in croissants. Make love beneath the light of the Eiffel.
My eyelids close, and the scene plays out in front of me. Katherine between King and Gabe. Me on the bed watchingthem strip her bare. They take turns kissing her, petting her pretty skin, teasing her breasts, delving between her thighs until she whimpers. Then they turn her to me, and she smiles. The room gets brighter because she crosses to the bed, crawls up the mattress and settles in my lap. Life is always brighter when her attention is on me.
Sighing, I come back to the present and adjust myself. Closing the photos app, I try to get my head in the game.
Dread rests heavy in my stomach. I want the best for all my employees, from my second in command to the night janitor at our headquarters, but this is going to be particularly rough because I was just here last week. It’s not like my client has become less of a needy asshole in the last six days. And right now, he’s being a complete drama llama.
The jet shudders slightly as the landing gear lowers into place. Behind me, the company lawyer snaps his laptop and shuffles some papers.
The landing is as smooth as one could hope for, and it doesn’t take long until we’re rolling to a stop in front of a massive hangar. I peek out the window and see a large black SUV waiting, one of our local agents standing beside the driver’s door.
Across from me, my personal protection pops his seatbelt and stands. It feels weird having someone watch my back again. Maybe weird isn’t the right word. Different. With things heating up between Kingston, Gabe, Katherine, and me, I’d be stupid to leave myself unguarded with so much at stake. Which reminds me to double security on the three of them, at least until this latest swell settles.
I’m halfway down the short staircase when my phone rings. Hand on the rail, I glance at the screen. Tadhg O’Sullivan, Gabe’s head of security.
That’s odd.
I connect the call, my nerves on high alert.
“Yeah?”
“We’ve got a situation.”
