Page 8

Eden

I waited while he picked up the room keycard from the reception desk, ignoring the glances directed at me by the woman. I knew how I looked. Split lip, bruised cheek, hair probably a wild mess. Bishop didn’t seem bothered or even appear to notice my discomfort, paying for the room and spinning the keycard between his fingers as he turned to me.

“Elevator is this way,” he said. “Let’s go.” He set off, once again not waiting to see if I followed.

I was beginning to feel like a child, trotting to keep up with an adult who had very little patience. I caught his sleeve.

“Could you please slow down?”

His gaze angled down, brows pleating as he stared at my fingers clutching his shirt sleeve, then back up at me. “When did you last eat?”

I blinked. “What?”

“Food. When did you last have some?” The words were clipped, impatient.

“I don’t … yesterday, maybe? Breakfast before I flew to Dallas.”

His sigh was irritable. One finger stabbed at the call button and the elevator doors slid open. He strode inside and turned, one eyebrow rising. “Are you coming or just going to stand in the foyer all night?”

I stepped into the elevator.

“I’ll order room service, while you shower and change.”

“Change into what? My clothes are in the motel room.”

He pressed the floor number and the elevator started moving. “Tell me your sizes and I’ll get some things delivered.”

“Just like that?”

His frown didn’t smooth out. “It’s almost four in the morning. We have to be at the airport at eleven. I told you the flight leaves at twelve. There’s not really any time to go clothes shopping.”

“So where are you going to get clothes from?”

“I’ll make a call.”

He made it sound so easy. Make a call . To whom, and where would they get clothes?

The elevator doors swished open, and Bishop strode forward into the hallway. He turned left, leaving me trailing behind him. I sighed quietly. He was standing outside a door by the time I caught up to him. Unlocking it, he stepped back.

“After you.”

I moved past him and inside the room … and stopped. This wasn’t a room; it was a suite. A large living room containing a circular cream couch, a giant television on the wall, a desk in one corner, with floor to ceiling glass doors which led out onto a private balcony. On the opposite side, an open door showed a hallway, with three more doors leading off it. I turned in a slow circle.

“I need to go back down to the car. Make yourself comfortable. Bathroom is through there.” He jerked his chin toward the hallway. “There’s probably a complimentary bathrobe or two in the bedrooms. Clean up. I’ll order some food when I get back and organize a change of clothes for you until we get to Vegas.”

“Vegas.” I repeated the word quietly. Where I’d get married to a man I’d sought out to help me disappear. It didn’t even make sense. “And then you’ll tell me why you need a wife?”

He paused on his way back to the door. “I’ll consider it.” His hand wrapped around the door handle. “If you want to back out, now’s the time to do it. You can leave and—”

“And Chester will find me in a couple of days, and I’ll be right back to where I started.” I licked my lips. “Or dead.” I knew how it worked. I’d researched the statistics about domestic violence. So many women ended up dead at the hands of the men who supposedly loved them. “I think I’d rather take my chances as a temporary wife.”

He inclined his head. “Then I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” The door closed behind him, and I was left alone in the hotel suite.

I didn’t move for a full minute, letting the weight of the silence settle over me, then I stepped deeper into the room and dropped onto the couch, my head sinking into my hands, exhaustion taking hold.

I’d been running on hope, fear, and adrenaline for the past three days. I traveled to Dallas, found the hotel where I’d been instructed to wait for Bishop Chambers to contact me, and then was grabbed and stuffed into the trunk of a car. A laugh bubbled up my throat and I clamped a hand over my mouth. I wasn’t going to let hysteria take over. Now I was about to travel to Las Vegas and marry the man I’d gone searching for, after he rescued me from the car, shot at my feet, and threatened to leave me in the trunk.

The laugh I’d muffled escaped, shrill in the quiet room.

What was I doing? I was trying to escape a man who wanted to force me to love him by marrying a man who wanted to use a wife to aid him in some way. What way? What did he expect from me?

My eyes darted to the door. Maybe I should leave. Escape while there was still time. Run. Leave the city, the state . Try and make a new life somewhere else. Except all my money was in the motel room, and Bishop said Chester was there.

Everything I owned was in that motel room.

I sat up straight.

Oh god, had I left anything that could tell him what I’d been planning? Where I’d been going?

What if he had people watching the airport? Would he know I was back in New York? Was he on his way to the hotel now?

My heart picked up speed, hammering against my ribs, and I lurched to my feet when the door swung open. I swayed and flung out a hand to stop myself from falling, when Bishop Chambers came into the room.

He stopped, those dark brows dipping into a frown as he looked at me. “I half-expected the room to be empty when I got back.” He set down a black case and kicked the door shut. “I called my lawyer. He’ll have a prenup contract ready for when we land in Las Vegas.” He crossed the room and picked up the service telephone. “I’ll order food. Do you drink coffee or something else? There’s also a small clothing store downstairs. If you give me your sizes, I’ll get them to bring a selection of clothes as well.”

“There’s a store inside the hotel?”

“The clientele here require access to things outside of typical hours, and sometimes they don’t want to be accosted by the general public.”

I blinked. He meant rich and famous people. Of which he was one … because how else could he afford the room … suite … we were in.

“You were going to tell me why you need a wife,” I said, and marveled at how calm I sounded.

That ever-present scowl turned in my direction. “I wasn’t, but it’s clearly an issue for you.” He held up a hand when I opened my mouth to reply. “Penthouse seven. Can you send up a carafe of coffee, a selection of finger foods, and get someone to stop by and pick up jeans, underwear, and t-shirts.” His eyes dropped to my feet. “Also, a pair of sneakers and black dress heels. Sizes?” He threw that question at me. “Eden!” My name was an irritable bark when I didn’t reply fast enough.

I told him, blushing when I gave him my underwear sizes. He didn’t notice, or behaved like he didn’t anyway, relaying them to whoever was at the end of the line, then dropped the receiver back down.

“Go and get cleaned up before food arrives.”

He strode across to where he’d left the black case and picked it up.

“You’re used to people doing what you tell them, aren’t you?”

“Yes, so I’d appreciate it if you’d head that way and do as you’re told.” He pointed down the hallway.

“What if I don’t?”

He paused in the process of unzipping the case. “Excuse me?”

“What if I don’t do as you say?”

One eyebrow arched. “Is that a challenge?”

“No. I’m just curious.”

“I see.” He flipped open the lid on the case and pulled out a sheet of paper. “Well, first I’d throw you over my shoulder and dump you under the shower. There’s blood in your hair and dirt under your fingernails. Regardless of why we’re getting married, I’d rather you didn’t look like I’ve just dug you out of the closest cemetery.” He delivered the words calmly without looking at me.

My eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

His head turned, dark eyes gleaming. “Try me.”