“What?” Her greeting was short and gruff.
The voice she heard next wasn’t the one she expected.
“Alexandria?”
Her heart flew into her throat. She shot up from the mattress, her stomach filling with a nauseating dread. “Gordan?”
The man Colt’s CIA team suspected of trafficking young women and girls for the sick pleasure of others had called her hotel room.
At the Maybourne.
A room she didn’t even have until an hour before.
Colt’s words from earlier returned, adding more credence to his previous claim.
If his men look into our story, which they most likely will, we needed it to be true.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.” Gordan’s deep voice filled the speaker at her ear.
“Uh, n-no.” Alex cleared her throat as she leaned her back against the upholstered headboard. Pulling the white comforter and sheet up to her waist, she assured him, “You’re not interrupting a thing.”
Keep your cool, and remember . . . Colt is Cole Morris, and you know nothing about Crawford’s criminal activity.
“Good to know.” He sounded a bit too happy upon hearing the news that she was presumably alone.
Or maybe it was a simple case of paranoia. Her frazzled mind working overtime to second-guess every teeny tiny thing.
Or maybe it’s all those pictures Colt showedyou in that file.
So many innocent lives ruined by this very man.
“What can I do for you, Gordan?” Alex improvised her performance in hopes the conversation would be over soon.
“I was hoping to discuss dinner plans with you for tomorrow night. I have a standing reservation at Chez Martine for seven o’clock, and I’d love for you to join me.”
Nope. Not happening. Tell the sicko absolutely not.
“Oh, I, um…” She chuckled nervously. “I’d love to, but something came up at the last-minute.”Think, think, think.“An important client called and would like to meet at my gallery tomorrow afternoon. So I’m afraid I need to fly back home to Charlotte in the morning, rather than waiting until later. But hopefully you and I can get together some other time, soon?”
She held her breath and waited. Alex purposely hadn’t mentioned actually buying an airline ticket back home in case he had his men verify that information, too.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Gordan’s disappointment was clear. “What time is your flight?”
“I was . . . just about to purchase my ticket.”
“That’s perfect.”
“It is?” Alex frowned with confusion.
“No ticket means you’re still free.”
She closed her eyes with a silent exhale, knowing she’d walked right into that one.
“I mean, I haven’t bought my ticket yet, but?—”
“But nothing. You’ll simply call the client back and let them know you can meet the following day. As for tomorrow night, you and I will enjoy an evening of finedining and conversation. After all, there is the business of putting together a show starring you and your exquisite paintings.”
The compliment filled her with pride until she remembered the kind of man he really was.
