Page 623 of One More Kiss

Chapter3

As morning dawns,I finalize the last details of my plan with my men and hang up the phone. My strategy isn’t perfect, but it’s the best I can do with such short notice. At the very least, there will be a victor by the time the sun rises again tomorrow.

Whether it’s me or my father, remains to be seen.

“Elisenda,” I hiss as I rap my knuckles against her door. “Open up.”

When she doesn’t immediately answer, I twist the doorknob and let myself in to her bedroom.

“Senna, get up,” I order. When she screams and scrambles into a sitting position, I slap my hand over her mouth. Her chest heaves, her eyes widen, her body stiffens, and I rush to explain why I’m ambushing her. “I’m going to help Ophelia, but I need you to come with me.”

As understanding dawns, she relaxes. My sister pushes me out of the way and climbs out of her bed. When she emerges from under the covers clothed in dark denim and a mohair sweater, I frown.

“Why are you dressed?” Ignoring me, she stomps over to her closet and returns, towing a small case on wheels. I try again to make some sense of her strange behavior. “How did you know I was coming for you?”

Elisenda stutters her reply, “I, er, I followed you to, ah, father’s office... I heard everything.”

Hitting her with a disbelieving look, I grab hold of her upper arm and drag her into her sitting room. “That was fucking stupid. But it doesn’t explain why you have a bag packed.”

“I knew you’d come to save me,” she murmurs.

Warmth spreads through my chest. I can’t remember the last time someone’s had faith in me. Speechless, I tug sharply on a hard-covered Dicken’s original perched in the bookcase lining the longest wall in the room. A panel pops open with a groan, exposing the entrance to a tunnel.

“Holy moly. I didn’t know this even existed.”

I hold my finger over my lips and glare at her until she shuts up. Once Elisenda’s quiet, I beckon her to follow me into the dusty hole. Wrestling the bookcase back into place, so we’re safely concealed, I explain, “I’m going to hide you until I’ve dealt with the Ophelia issue. Once that’s over, you can come home.”

“Ok-ay,” Elisenda stammers. “That’s… good.”

My feet falter when her uncertainty registers. “What’s wrong?”

“I figured I wasn’t coming back.” Her eyes gleam wetly in the torchlight. “I was kind of looking forward to starting a new life.”

“Nothing’s settled yet. Ophelia might not agree with my plan.”

Elisenda squeezes my arm. “She will. Everyone knows she can’t stand Ludovit.”

Without responding, I lead her deeper into the tunnels. As we head toward the exit on the estate next to ours, I can’t help but worry that we’re walking into a trap. If a nineteen-year-old can unravel the hole in our father’s scheme, surely Joaquin and the rest of the Trinity are aware of the miscalculation.

I still haven’t developed a viable back-up plan when we reach the surface. Quietly, I close the external hatch behind us, and notice that the day is bright and cheery, despite the cloud of uncertainty hanging over my head.

Elisenda is blinking fast when I spot two people off in the distance. The hulking frame next to the shorter, slimmer person is instantly recognizable. I grab my handgun from my waistband and flick off the safety. The duo approach, while I check for signs of ambush. I find nothing, but I reach for Elisenda anyway. She sidesteps me.

“Ophelia! Joaquin!” Elisenda exclaims. She claps her hands. “I told you he’d come.”

She lengthens her stride and takes off toward them before I can stop her. Her rolling case bounces on the cobblestoned walkway behind her, until our father’s henchman catches her in his arms and lifts her and her luggage off the ground. I watch with wide eyes as they kiss until Ophelia steps closer to me and touches the end of my gun.

“I don’t think you’ll be needing this right now,” she quips.

Flicking on the safety, I cock my head to the side and really take her in. She’s unsurprised by my arrival. Dressed casually in denim pants and a sweater with her long hair tied back, she appears carefree. Next to her feet sits a sports bag, and she has another bag slung across her body.

She follows my gaze then laughs. “It’s a little more practical than a roll along case.”

“True.”

Chuckling, she bumps her shoulder against my upper arm. Awareness prickles over my skin when she leans against me. A dog barks in the distance, just as I move to tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. Ophelia straightens, and I let my hand drop. My chest tightens from her rejection until she offers me a rueful smile.

“Bringing Atlas wasn’t quite so practical, but I couldn’t leave him. He’s family.”

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