“You’re not going into labor, are you?” Her eyes go from my belly to my face and back. “You don’t look far along enough.”
That must be what it looks like, the way I’m bent over the sink breathing through my mouth. “No, I’m not.”
“Third trimester hormones, then.” She smiles, shutting the water off and grabbing a paper towel to dry her hands. “I remember them well.”
I smile back. But it’s not hormones.
I know what I saw. And it’s not the first time. The black car. The tinted windows. The watchful eye that I constantly feel on my back.
It doesn’t really make sense. Maverick was shot. He was wheeled out of the warehouse covered in his own blood. Maybe he’s dead and I’m being haunted by his ghost.
Get a grip, Amara. You’re not being stalked by a ghost. Although that would be an appropriate form of punishment, wouldn’t it?
I splash water on my face. I know it’s him. He’s spying on me. The only question is why?
And while I don’t have the answer, I do know one thing.
If Maverick’s here, Ransome can’t be far behind.
8
RANSOME
“Remind me again why you’re going on a business trip.”
Jenica is standing in my room in her wispy little nightgown, her hip popped as she attempts to drill me to the floor. It’s not going to happen.
Under her watchful eye, I pack a suitcase of bare necessities. I have always been a light traveler, especially since I hate to travel.
“Because I’m the CEO of one of the biggest oil and gas companies on the planet and sometimes my job takes me away from home.”
“I might believe that…ifyou ever actually traveled for work,” she says. “You always make everyone come to you.”
“Not this time.” I add another black shirt to my suitcase just for good measure. I can’t imagine that rural Montana has many reputable dry cleaners, and there’s no way in hell I’d use a hotel laundry room.
“You’re taking all black.” She narrows her eyes, arms crossed.
“And?”
“You don’t wear all black at the office. You only wear all black forBratva matters.”
“I never said it was for Apex,” I snap, knowing exactly what I said moments before. But also, who the fuck does she think she is?
“He’s not in Montana, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I zip my suitcase up and check my phone. The private jet will be ready in thirty minutes, which means I don’t have time for the pillow princess and her third degree.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Tristan,” she says. “He’s not in Montana or Colorado or wherever it is you’re going.”
“I’m aware.”
She narrows her eyes even further. “Then why are you going there?”
I pick my suitcase up off the bed and head towards the door. “I don’t think that’s any of your business, Jenica.”
“I’m your wife!”
