Page 70 of The Charmer's Gambit
“You picked this one out.”
He waggled his brows. “I know, and I can’t wait to strip it off you later.”
“Mister Mershano,” a deep voice called from behind us. We turned as Javier, the vineyard owner, approached in the hotel lobby. My face flamed in response to what he’d just witnessed, but he didn’t say anything or acknowledge it. “I was hoping to run one idea past you before you go,” he said, his gaze hopeful.“It’s about an aging technique I want to try, but since you’ll be the one selling the product, I’d like to get your opinion first.”
“Of course.” Will glanced my way. “I know you need to check in with Baker Brown, so I’ll meet you upstairs.”
Right. Janet wanted me to call her with an update after today’s meetings. It was just after eleven in the morning in Chicago, which made it a perfect time to touch base. I shook Javier’s hand again and headed to the elevators with a wave. I could feel Will’s gaze on my ass the whole way, which excited me for what would happen when he joined me in the suite. I had a feeling dinner would come second to sex again. His appetite was insatiable, and not just for food.
My phone buzzed as I stepped into the elevator, and I glanced at it, expecting it to be work. Instead, it was a number I didn’t recognize. I snorted and hit ignore. Since I hadn’t bothered to answer Ryan’s calls all week, it was probably him trying on a new line. When it vibrated again, I silenced it and then did that three more times on the way to the room before something in me broke. This had to end once and for all. I was finally happy for the first time in forever, and I needed it to be permanent. That required me to reject Ryan with a finality he couldn’t ignore.
When the number flashed a fifth time, I answered. “Look, this—”
“He’s there. He’s in the hotel.”
Okay, not the voice I expected to hear. “Caleb?”
“Rachel, listen to me, he’s in the fucking hotel. You need to run, right now. Go!”
His urgent tone froze me in the hallway. I hadn’t spoken to my brother in months. “What are you talking about? Who—”
“Rach—”
Something hard slammed into the back of my head, causing the phone to slip from my fingers. “What the—”
An expensive leather shoe appeared in my blurry peripheral vision and stepped on the mobile, shattering it against the marble floor. Dread tightened a noose around my neck as a familiar aftershave overwhelmed my senses.
“Hello, little whore,” Ryan drawled as he knotted his fingers in my hair and half dragged me down the hallway. My purse fell from my arm as I struggled to loosen his grip.
“Ryan—”
He backhanded me across the face so hard my world spun, and then he wrapped his fingers around my throat to keep me from falling. My shoulders hit the wall with a force that knocked the wind out of me.
“Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” he said through gritted teeth, squeezing harder with each word. “You want to be a slut—I’ll treat you like one.”
He yanked me forward and started down the corridor toward the stairwell again.
Holy shit.
This could not be happening.
Where are Beau and Sam?
In their rooms.
Right. Because Will dismissed them after the meeting and said he would escort me.
Fuck.
I tried to gain purpose with my heels, to push away from him and run, but his grip on my windpipe left me too weak to fight. My feet barely held me up enough to walk as he pulled me down two flights of stairs. Black spots danced behind my eyes as I fought to breathe, and then I was sucking in sweet air as he shoved me onto the ground of a guest room that was significantly smaller than the one I’d meant to enter upstairs.
I curled into a ball as he circled me, and waited for the first kick to come. He moved slowly as his cruel gaze raked overmy prone form. His snort of disgust tainted the too-silent air. “Fucking pathetic.”
He dragged a chair over and lit up a cigar while he studied me in that eerie way of his. Those vivid blue eyes narrowed as he blew out a string of smoke that only seemed to add to the ominous atmosphere.
“You know, alcohol trade laws are a fickle thing.” He paused to take a long drag on his cigar, those midnight eyes glowing with malcontent in the dim lighting of the room. “It would be a real shame if someone like Mershano made a mistake on one of his many filings. Could even jeopardize his little empire, or at least set it back for a few months, maybe years. Would be even worse if, say, some of the paperwork disappeared. Especially while in the middle of an international acquisition. Have I mentioned my friends with the US Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau?”
My blood ran cold. “Ryan . . .”
