Chapter Eighteen
Autumn
Darla squealed again as I described the top floor suite at the Palace Hotel. She sat in the chair across from my desk and held her laptop open on her knees. The official look was not fooling anyone as employees glanced through the fishbowl offices and smiled at our expressive secretary.
"How romantic!" she sighed.
"Well, we didn't really get much of a chance to see the city," I admitted.
Darla waggled her perfectly shaped eyebrows, "Now that's my kind of getaway. A luxury suite and no reason to get out of bed."
I felt my cheeks grow hot. "Hush! What if someone heard you?"
"I'll tell them you were researching hotel investments in San Francisco. It was one of Jace's favorite business opportunities to explore," Darla reminded me.
I thought of Jace and all those handwritten letters that had spilled out of the manila envelope. He had truly owed everything he had to Ayden King. Jace's friend had stepped in and saved him without a second hesitation. Every time I thought about it, my heart fluttered, and I had to control my breath to calm down.
"So you and Mr. King," Darla breathed another dreamy sigh. "It’s a fairytale romance: hardworking Vegas climber meets mysterious sudden millionaire."
"Trust me, it hasn't been all hearts and rainbows," I reminded Darla.
The looming specter of David's death had not yet reached the office. Ayden planned to make an official announcement later that day but until then, I was glad that Darla was smiling and gushing.
"Whisked away on a private jet. Did you fly over the Golden Gate Bridge? Could you see the Bay from your hotel room?" she asked. "Mr. King has got a lot of style. I have to give him that."
I smiled and felt a new warmth spreading to calm my fluttering heart. It would not be long before Ayden's name was cleared. I had no doubt he would then be named the official CEO of Knight Holdings, and everyone would see him as the quiet hero he really was.
I shook off the darkened memory of his tense muscles and iron resolve. The middle of the night phone call and his threatening mention of the Mertz brothers had chilled me. It was hard to reconcile that cold steel version of Ayden with the proactive and charismatic leader that walked by and winked at me through the glass walls of our offices.
"He does have style so here's the big question: what do I get him?" I asked Darla.
She perked up, ready for a challenge, and happy to be involved. "What sort of message are we sending?"
I tangled my hands together under the desk out of sight and thought about it. What sort of message did I want to send Ayden? I thought my growing love for him was already radiating every time I saw him. He would have to be blind not to see it. Plus it was not quite the right time. There were still so many obstacles.
"How about we keep it simple and stick to 'thank you,'" I said.
Darla sat back, somewhat disappointed, but thought it over and then smiled. "How about a new shirt. I noticed he never wears cufflinks so you could get him a shirt that needs them, and then surprise him with a pair."
"You really are the perfect assistant. And friend," I told Darla. "I'm assuming you also know the perfect place I can go."
She stood up with a pleased smile. "Of course. I'll call your driver and let him know."
I glanced at the hulking shape near the front doors of Knight Holdings. "Just write down the directions, please. I have an escort today."
"The bodyguard?" Darla glanced over her shoulder at Alan. "I meant to ask about that. Is everything okay?"
"Yes. Everything's fine," I suppressed a shudder and pushed away all thoughts of the Mertz brothers. "Turns out Ayden is romantic and just a touch protective."
Darla smiled, "That is romantic."
I noticed her looked warmed as she glanced at Alan again. The combination of our peppy secretary and the mountainous and serious bodyguard was too incongruous not to laugh. Darla caught herself and gave a pretty blush.
"Why don't you go tell Alan where we're heading," I suggested.
My stern bodyguard had the ghost of a smile playing around his lips when he joined me in the elevator. "Ms. Darla filled me in. I know the shop. They do custom work for me."
I eyed his impressively wide shoulders that dwarfed the confines of the elevator. "It must be hard to find suits that fit. Darla does make great suggestions. She's a real treasure," I said.
He smiled again but tried to hide it.
"By the way, thank you for shadowing me," I said. It was hard not to appreciate Alan after the eerie feeling at the mansion and David's shocking death.
I tried to keep that appreciation foremost in my mind, but Alan's bulk quickly drove me insane at the swanky boutique. Every shirt I considered, he loomed behind me until I was sure I could not breathe without screaming.
"Alan, I need to use the ladies' room." I held up both hands. "Please do me a favor and browse out here. I'm certain I can handle it on my own."
He frowned down at me. "I have checked everything out, but I'm not comfortable being too far away. Mr. King filled me in on everything."
I bit my lip. If Alan knew about David's death and the threats from the Mertz brothers, he was not going to give me an inch. "Fine, stand here in the hallway and glower at people. I'll be right back."
I pushed my way into the ladies' room and huffed out an angry breath. Alan was doing his job. He was making me feel safe, but it was all very suffocating.
I locked the stall door behind me right as I heard the bathroom door swing open. Heavy, masculine steps walked across the tiles. "Alan, I swear to god. I can handle this on my own," I called harshly.
* * * * *
There was a long pause, and it felt like all the air was sucked out of the small bathroom. I glanced back down at the shoes without moving and studied them. Large, like Alan's, but these shoes were scuffed around the toes. Alan kept his shoes polished to a brilliant shine. I had seen him sitting on the patio with his shoe-shining kit and working at it like a ritual.
The scuffed shoes faced me, and I could hear the large man's breathing on the other side of the thin stall door. Every nerve in my body cringed, but I refused to move. All I had to decide was if I was going to scream or call 911.
I worried that a piercing scream would only spur the man into some desperate action. I knew better, but I somehow still hoped he was a simple mugger. I decided to slip my phone out of my purse and shove the rest underneath the stall door.
"Go ahead, take everything," I snapped.
I clutched my phone and let the rest of my handbag fall on the man's shoes.
Before I could dial a single number the man shattered the tense silence. "They tried to warn you before, you stupid bitch, but you just don't get it."
I slipped my feet back silently as I heard the man lean closer to the stall door. I had nowhere to go, he had me trapped, and panic clawed at my throat. "The car?" I rasped.
"My colleague is much too subtle so they called me," the man growled.
"The man at the club that wouldn't stop staring?" I asked, my voice a pained whisper.
"Just a little worm. They want to make sure you get the message this time. So you better drop that phone and listen up."
My phone slipped uselessly out of my fingers. I tried to tell myself it would all be over soon, but my body was shutting down. There was nowhere to run, and I had no way to fight him, so my panicked brain was frying every nerve. I worked my throat and hoped I could catch enough breath to scream.
As if reading my thoughts, the man leaned closer still and said, "Before you do anything stupid, listen up. Tell your boyfriend to sign the deal and be done with it. If he doesn't, things are going to get real bad, real quick."
He punctuated the threat with a flat handed slap that made the thin metallic door ring. I jumped back and clapped both hands over my mouth to stop the shredding scream in my throat. My breath caught hard as I watched the scuffed shoes disappear. I forced myself to swallow the scream so I could listen. The man walked to the bathroom door and disappeared.
The silence buzzed with my restrained terror.
Finally I reached down and gathered up my phone and purse. My fingers were already hitting speed dial for Ayden, but I stopped myself just in time. The last thing he needed was a panicked phone call from me. It was over, I was fine, and Ayden would worry about it soon enough.
I tucked my phone back into my purse and took a long time to straighten my outfit and smooth back my hair. Finally, I had to admit I was too scared to unlock the stall door. I forced my hand to open it and stepped gingerly into the abandoned bathroom.
At the sink, I held onto the counter with both hands and fought off hyperventilation. Instead, I breathed like a marathon runner and waited for the room to stop spinning. It did and I was able to turn on the water and wash my shaking hands.
I had taken way too long, but it was an eternity before I was able to pull open the door to the hallway. I peeked out and felt ice in my veins as I saw the back door. The lock was dismantled and hung by a bent piece of metal.
Alan turned around, his expression curious and annoyed. Until he connected with my eyes. It seemed impossible that someone so large could move so quickly, but within seconds his large hands were gripping my shoulders. I sagged against his strength but still pretended everything was fine.
Ayden did not need this worry on top of everything else.
No explanation was necessary and no lie was possible. My bodyguard quickly spotted the broken lock. "Are you okay? Can you stand?" he asked.
Alan leaned me against the wall and burst through the broken door. He was back seconds later, his eyes blazing. "Are you hurt?"
"No, I'm fine. He just delivered a message," I managed.
"He's gone, but I will find him." Alan's tone implied he was going to tear the man limb from limb when he did. "But first, let's get you home."
"The cufflinks," I said. "The shirt for Ayden. The tailor was going to customize the fit."
Alan snorted but relented when he saw my eyes. "Ayden can get it tailored later. I'll make sure the clerk wraps everything up right away."
I emerged from the narrow hallway in time to see a terrified clerk wrapping the blue shirt and white gold/mother of pearl cufflinks as quickly as possible. Alan stood over him breathing like a bull waiting to make the bloody run in Madrid.
"Thank you. I'm sorry for the rush. I'm suddenly feeling ill," I tried to say as pleasantly as possible.
The clerk slid his eyes from Alan and his brow cleared. "I'm sorry to hear that Ms. Bishop. We do so appreciate your business. Please come again when you are feeling better."
I thanked him as Alan plucked the neatly wrapped package from the clerk's hands. My bodyguard stuffed it under his arm. I was glad for both his strong hands guiding me to the car. Once inside, I leaned my head back and let the tears wash away the rest of my fear.