Her words hit like a blade, shutting her parents right up. Without a backward glance, she storms out.
I don’t linger. There’s no need. My team’s called it in. Soon this place will be swarming with officers ready to take out the trash. And there is a lot of it here.
When I catch up to her, years of rage boil over. She stops dead in the middle of the manicured lawn and lets it out—a scream, raw and wordless. Pure, brutal release. When it dies, her body crumbles, her knees giving way.
I’m there to catch her before she reaches the ground. Spinning her into me, the wind tangling her hair as I pull her close. Her violent tremors ignite every emotion I’ve held for her. No one will ever make her feel less again. I’ll make sure she knows she’s loved, wanted, my entire world.
She’s mine, and I’ll cherish her like no one else can.
I hold her securely against me and don’t let go. Not when the cops swarm. Not when they press her for answers. I stay by her side. Keeping her hand in mine, giving her my support, proving she will never face life alone again.
When they drag her father out, I step in front of her. Blocking his pathetic attempts to reach her with his bullshit about never turning your back on family. My withering glare, a mask of icy disdain, shuts him up fast. Family. What the fuck does he know about family?
I tug her to my side, calming her without outing us. With Winifred’s situation, we’re both aware we need to remain inconspicuous—at least until things settle down. In the beginning, I agreed to be the decoy to throw the Batistas off Esteban. But now, that needs to change. My name can no longer be tied up with Winifred’s. It’s time to talk to them about my role in the smokescreen they’ve been hiding behind. I refuse to let Ingrid get caught up in another scandal. I want our relationship to be open and honest, and I know our friends will agree once they learn how serious this thing between us is.
Once they clear us, I lead her to my car, strap her in, and hit the road. Time to leave this nightmare behind us.
“I’m sorry.” Ingrid sniffles as we drive away. “If you don’t want to get involved, I’ll understand. I’ll be fine. I’ll manage somehow.”
Reaching over, I grab her hand and bring it to my lips. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not ever.”
“That’s… a long time,” she whispers, dabbing at her cheeks.
“Not nearly long enough. Your bags are being collected by my men. We’re flying out tonight. London first, then Switzerland. One stop on the way—okay?” I turn my head quickly, catching her nod as the scent of her perfume reaches me. “Good. I told you I’d kidnap you. Looks like I wasn’t lying.”
Ingrid giggles, sweet and unguarded. “Seems you weren’t. You can kidnap me anytime you wish.”
Chapter 21
Ingrid
January
We stay in London for almost a week. Christmas came the next day, but I wasn’t in the mood to celebrate. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to bother Darius. I guess I’m not really surprised. When you live the kind of life we’ve both lived, holidays don’t always hold great memories. Skipping them is often the sanest choice.
Darius works almost nonstop. I keep to myself and stay busy—walking, exploring, trying to breathe again. The gray skies and damp chill help me focus on some much needed soul-searching. A million thoughts swirl through my head. Shit I need to sort through before we leave for Switzerland or they’ll eat me alive.
Something inside me shifts. I’m ready for more. For something real, next level. Over the past few months, even with only stolen moments, we’ve grown closer than I ever imagined. My feelings for Darius run deep; our bond is strong. I’m pretty sure I love him. But confessing the truth feels like stepping off a cliff without knowing if he’ll catch me.
I’ve been pacing our suite for over an hour. I can’t sit still or silence my racing thoughts.
The door bursts open. Darius crosses the room in three strides, lifts me off my feet, and spins me like he owns the air.
“Time to go, cupcake. I know it’s late, but it’s best this way.”
I don’t argue with him. It’s not like I unpacked. I’ve been living out of my suitcase since our arrival. So, all I have to do is zip it up and follow him out the door.
We land in Switzerland after midnight, the cloak of the night keeping our arrival hidden. Darius claims it’s better this way, a chance to breathe before facing his family who will pounce on us like an unpredictable storm. He wants space and quiet time. Just us. By the time we reach his home, the exhaustion from all the traveling hits us. We don’t talk. We don’t unpack. We simply collapse into his bed, too tired to do anything more than fall asleep in each other’s arms.
I’ll admit, doubt creeps in. Which is another reason I’ve kept my feelings to myself. He’s barely touched me since kidnapping me from my parents’ home. Maybe he’s having second thoughts about us, and I can’t blame him. After the shit storm he walked in on, he has every right to reevaluate.
Waking up in an empty bed only adds to those doubts. The silence suffocating. I brace myself to face whatever comes next. Better now than later.
Right as I’m about to crawl out of bed, the bedroom door creaks open. Darius enters, carrying a tray with two cups, a carafe of what I assume is coffee, and a covered plate. He’s shirtless, the loungers he slipped on last night hanging low on his hips.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” I sit up, tugging the covers over my bare legs as goosebumps rise on my skin.
