Page 28 of Sweet Surrender
The placewas stunning.
Ginormous crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings. Pristinewhite walls were adorned with gold furnishings, and cozy couches and chairs were dotted throughout where people sat drinking champagne or expensive spirits, and eyeing me as we passed through.
Not that I blamed them; I stuck out like a sore thumb to the peoplestaying in this hotel. Men were dressed in smart suits, the women dressed in designer dresses, and there I was in my grubby sneakers, stained jeans, and oversized coat that had seen better days. It was clear as day that I didn’t have the money to stay in a place like this.
Ignoring their curious stares and trying to push away the feeling ofinsecurity, I followed Peterson into the elevator. Once Lawes was inside, he tapped in a code on the panel, and the three of us stood in awkward silence as the elevator made its way to whoever the hell we were going to see.
When the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, Lawesindicated for me to step out. I did as I was told, my gaze darting around, as my confusion grew. The doors hadn’t opened into a hallway lined with offices or conference rooms like I’d expected, but had openeddirectlyinto a suite
Taking another step forward, trepidation ran through my body, andsomewhere in the back of my head, a little alarm bell started ringing, telling me that something was wrong.
Adingsounded from behind me. Spinning around just in time to seethe elevator doors close with Lawes and Peterson still inside and grinning at me like I had stupidly walked into a trap, the feeling of trepidation changed to one of fear.
I ran back to the elevator and jabbed my finger on the button to callit back, but nothing happened. As I tried to tamp down the fear beginning to grip me, I shoved my hand into my coat pocket to fish out my phone.
Only it wasn’t there.
I checked the other pocket before patting my jeans butno matter where I searched, the damn phone was nowhere to be found.
I was pretty sure it had been in my coat pocket when I’d left the library. Maybe it’d fallen out when I was in the car, but that little alarm bell was screaming at me, telling me to stop being such a dumbass and accept the truth that was staring me in the face.
One of the agentsmusthave taken it.
Fear now had me in a chokehold. Realizing I had little choice butto find out who was waiting for me, I tentatively crept through the hallway, my heart racing like I was expecting the ghost of Christmas past to appear at any moment.
The hallway opened into a lounge area which had a leather L-shapedcouch in the middle, and an enormous flat-screen TV on the wall. On the other side of the room was a bar, stocked with bottles of spirits.
My mouth dropped open when my eyes landed on the man standingbehind the bar, pouring amber liquid into two tumblers.
The last man I expected to see.
Chapter 9
Savannah
“Nash?”
Nash Carson, the man who kept popping into my head all the damntime, lifted his head, his mouth pulling up one side into an accomplished smile. “Hello, Savannah.”
From where he was standing, only the top half of him was visible.He’d ditched the suit jacket he usually wore, instead, the top two buttons of his white shirt were undone, and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showcasing the myriad of black and gray tattoos covering both muscular forearms.
My heart began to pound harder than it had done momentsearlier. Every time I saw Nash in the flesh, I was reminded of how delicious he was, but also how bad he could be for my health.
And mysanity.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to comprehend why he was there. And whyIwas there for that matter.
Nash stepped out from behind the bar and carried the two tumblersover to the small table in front of the couch. Placing them down next to a brown envelope, he took a seat, leaning back and crossing one long leg over the other.
“You turned my dinner invitation down. Twice. I had to resort to othermeans,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Please, sit down. We have a lot to discuss.”
My feet were frozen to the floor, and all I could do was gape at himlike a moron. In the back of my mind, his words registered, and heat began to crawl up my neck at my own stupidity.
“They weren’t FBI Agents, were they?” I said cautiously.
His smile grew wider, only instead of the warm smile I’d seen himwear before, this one was full of deviousness. “No, they work for me. I had to get your attention somehow.”
My brows rose in surprise. Did Nash want to take me out todinner so badly that he’d resort to trickery?
