Page 38

He’d deliberately stopped himself from shaving this morning because he knew he would be seeing Leia. Looking around the suite, he cursed louder.
Fused Realms’ album, the one Leia had told him in Vienna was her favorite, played softly in the background. He’d stopped himself from cooking, had reckoned if they got to the stage of being hungry, he could always call up the gourmet takeout service he used. But he’d put a bottle of her favorite wine on ice. Two large bouquets of flowers, courtesy of Maddie’s mad skills, had turned the suite from a clinical, soulless place into a passably comfortable space with some strategic lighting.
And all for what? To sway a woman who didn’t give a shit about him or the child he was expecting to change his life?
He staggered to the nearest sofa, slowly pulled his wallet out of his pocket and stared at the grey blob on the plastic film.
Christ, he hadn’t expected to experience such overwhelming feelings the moment the machine had picked up the heartbeat. But the rush of warmth and protectiveness had been beyond description.
The only fly in the ointment had been the woman carrying his child. Even then, Noah hadn’t let it spoil the moment. Hell, he’d even allowed the psycho bitch to hold his hand. But he’d thought of Leia in that moment, had wished it was her lying onthat table with his child growing inside of her. Jesus, his eyes had even misted at the powerful need for that alternate reality.
His fingers trembled, and he blinked back into focus.
God, he was a fucking idiot. An idiot who was perhaps better off back in therapy.
He let out a grim laugh. Hell no. Never again. He knew exactly what was wrong with him.
He couldn’t stop himself from making the same fucking mistakes over and over.
It was high time he got his shit together.
His phone’s vibrations roused him to a darkened room and the discomfort of a severely sore neck. Digging it out, he eyed the Private Caller ID displayed and answered. “You better have good news for me.”
“We’ve found her.”
Noah’s breath shuddered out. “Is she safe?”
“The only thing she needs to worry about right now is whether the mini-bar in her hotel room is up to scratch.” He heard the thinly veiled question and closed his eyes against the need to ask.
Get your shit together. Starting now.
“Keep an eye on her. Tomorrow is the deadline for the blackmail demand. Hire extra men if you need to. I don’t want that bastard anywhere near her once he finds out he’s not getting a dime.”
“I know. We’re working on that too. You sure you don’t want to know where she is?”
Noah grimaced and rubbed his jaw. Temptation burned through him, but he gritted his teeth. “No. I don’t.”
“You know where I am if you change your mind.”
Noah disconnected the call and clenched his fist around the phone. He’d taken the first step into regaining his sanity. His ex-therapist would be thrilled enough to drop her panties for him right now.
Shame he felt like going ten rounds with a punching bag instead.
The moment Leia turned her phone on, it began to ping. Several missed calls from Noah and two from Warren. Tugging on her jeans and T-shirt after a quick shower, she took the time to get herself together before checking them properly. Part of the weaning-herself-off-Noah process demanded she not jump at the sight of his name or the promise of hearing his voice.
He was probably pissed that she’d disappeared from his radar, but she needed to be able to stand on her own two feet from now on.
A shaft of fear lanced down her spine as she thought of what she’d decided in the middle of the night. Noah was right. Stephen Willoughby was the reason her life had descended into hell five years ago. Her mother had killed herself because of him. Rewarding him with fifty million dollars, even to stop him from exposing the photos he had of her, would be spitting on her mother’s grave and her memory.
A sharp twinge of shame pierced her. She’d forgotten that in the midst of trying to save herself from the pain of losing Noah. But last night, she’d remembered why she needed to remain strong. Slipping her feet into her runners, she paused as another message came through. A quick glance showed an attachment with a play button.
The message at the top of the screen was simple and bone-chilling.
Today’s the day. In case you need a reminder…
The video was a five-second clip. It showed her in her bedroom just over five years ago. On her back, her eyes wide with fear and her mouth bruised and bloody from the blow he’d dealt her when she’d dared to struggle. Her nightshirt was ripped, exposing her right breast, which he was palming roughly as he pushed himself inside her. It ended with her head coming off the pillow, screaming as her gaze veered to the door.
It was the moment her mother had walked in with the gun…