Page 50 of Ms. Fortune

“And accidentally offering to pay you to date me didn’t help my cause either.”

“Accidentally? How do you accidentally proposition someone?” This ought to be good.

He squeezes me tight against him, taking a deep breath. His body is warm, and the solidness of him next to me is a sensation I could get used to. “You know what I mean. I was a babbling idiot. I would have said anything to get you to say ‘yes.’ And I did.”

I let him off the hook. “I know. You’re just cute when you’re awkward.”

We grow silent as the air in the room gets heavy again. The weight of our circumstances presses down on us as we lie here, both of us avoiding the metaphorical Sword of Damocles hanging over our heads, held aloft by the slimmest of threads.

“I won’t let anything happen to you, Normandy. I swear.” His voice is barely a whisper, and there’s so much emotion in it my heart constricts in my chest.

I pull his arm tighter around my waist, twining my fingers with his as I kiss his knuckles. I can’t make words, or sentences, let alone thoughts. I want to believe him, that he has the power to make this all okay somehow, but I don’t know that he does. We both have no way of knowing that he can control any of this. I know with all of my heart that he will do everything in his power to try, but I don’t know if it will be enough. All I can do is trust him, something I’m not used to doing with anyone.

With the way that Frank basically tricked us into thinking we were somehow cooperating when in reality, we had no choice in any of this, I don’t have a lot of faith in any of the reassurances that he gave us. I have a feeling the FBI is more interested in getting Louie Calnetta as a trophy than they are in keeping Brandon or me safe. I feel like an afterthought in the whole scenario, which doesn’t boost my confidence when it comes to any of this going smoothly.

Eventually, sleep takes me, but it’s restless and full of nightmares. Several times I’m awoken by Brandon holding me close and whispering in my ear that I’m okay. I lie awake for a while, definitely not okay until I drift off again.

I am not okay. I am far from okay.

Chapter 33

END OF THE EARTH

BRANDON

I’ve spent most of today on a shiny new replacement phone with my attorneys, trying to figure out what I could possibly have to testify about. We’ve repeatedly gone back into my history with Eve to see if there’s anything we’ve missed that might raise a red flag, but we still came up with nothing. I’m hopeful that means that the time I’ll be required to testify will be brief, and I can get back here to Vegas in time for Normandy.

I’ve already arranged with my bank to allow a large cash transfer tomorrow while I’m in New York, so the money will be ready when it needs to go. The bank president I dealt with directly asked me numerous times if everything was okay with me. Moving large amounts of cash is a surefire way to get the IRS curious about what you’re doing, which is something I really don’t need right now. I can only guess at the amount required to cover a ransom.

I’m reminded again of my foolishly asking Normandy how much it would cost for her to pretend to be dating me, and here I am, ready to spend any amount of money just to keep her alive.

It would be easy to say that money means nothing because I have it. To most people, it would be the most pretentious thing for me to say on the planet. But deep down, I know it’s true. If I needed to give up every penny I had to keep her alive for whatever reason, I would do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. That’s what people do for those they love.

Shit.

There it is.

The “L” word.

Fuck, that snuck up on me. I was not ready for that word to pop into my head. Is it true? Do I love Normandy? I think all the signs are pointing to ‘yes.’ But why does that single word matter so damned much? Isn’t it enough that the emotions are there? The actions that are supposed to speak louder than that word are there? Why is there always such a constant frenzy for people to say that word as soon as they think it? That’s dangerous.

What if it’s a fleeting thought? A momentary lapse in judgment? A fit of panic? A rush of endorphins? What if it’s only lust?

Yes, I’m currently readying myself to lose millions of dollars to save her, but I would like to think anyone in my position would be willing to do that to save anyone. Is that true? Who knows? All I know is that I don’t know what I’ll do if anything happens to her. I will not be able to live with myself if this somehow goes wrong because of me. Hell, even if it’s not because of me, but still goes wrong. I can barely function just thinking about it.

Spending most of my day on the phone, Normandy spent hers at the depot pretending to work. It’s been torture all day being apart from her. We can’t do anything too out of the normal, or we might tip off to Calnetta that we know what’s coming. This was Taylor’s bright idea, though I suppose he’s right. Still, Normandy and I text each other throughout the day, just checking in with each other to make sure we’re each staying sane.

She gets back to my place in time for a quiet dinner together before I need to head back to New York. The conversation is stiff and awkward, and neither of us really eats our meal. It’s pretty clear we’re both nervous wrecks.

“Did you hear from Frank at all today?” she asks, pushing the food on her plate around with a fork.

“No. But I didn’t expect to. Did you?”

She shakes her head, and more quiet settles between us, and the awkwardness only increases my anxiety. It’s a vicious cycle of nerves, apprehension, and frustration thrown in for good measure, twisting around in my gut. I can’t think of anything to say that will lighten the mood, and to be honest, I don’t think trying is the way to go right now. Some things are too serious to try to change, like an impending kidnapping.

Once we’ve pushed our food around long enough to be polite, it’s time for me to leave for the airport. I don’t want to go. I still can’t believe that the government picked the absolute worst day for me to testify out of every other fucking one in the year. It better be a serious life or death matter that I’m being summoned for, or I’m going to blow a gasket. If it turns out to be some petty monetary thing that has no real impact on anyone, I’ll seriously lose my shit in the fucking courtroom.

“I promise I will be back as soon as I can.” I’m holding Normandy, who is burying her face into my chest and squeezing me so tightly I’m struggling to breathe, but I don’t release her. I need to hold her just as much as she needs me now.

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