Page 45 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

We all drive together to the venue in Anton’s truck, but we unload separately in the huge parking lot, pretending not to walk into the venue together. From the minute we arrive to the start of the gala, I can’t shake the paranoia that Kevin will realize we’re all together.

Maybe he researched Anton and Gabriel and will recognize them.

By the time we enter the ballroom, people in lanyards and polos with Scarlet Hope logos crisscross the lobby, laying programs on tables and adjusting signs. Hotel staff wrap chiffon bows around the chairs and make things look special.

Everything is polished and bright, upbeat music playing over the speakers. But beneath it all, tension sizzles like a static current.

Gabriel keeps a step behind me, playing the doting hotel event manager, occasionally asking me questions and jotting things down on a clipboard.

His gaze scans me and the room constantly.

Anton hangs near the back entrance. They look like they belong here—calm, professional, competent. The illusion of normalcy.

But they’re hooked up together to communicate through earpieces like Secret Service agents.

Occasionally, one of them speaks into their sleeve, though I suppose it wouldn’t be strange for a large hotel’s event manager and a security officer to have that set up.

Freya reappears after chatting with catering and Kevin at the far end of the room. Anton trailed her in stealth mode the whole time.

She tries to act normal, but her thoughts are a split between me and likely whatever fake conversation she had with Kevin. That must have been hard. I don’t have a nuanced relationship with Kevin. I just need to act professional, and that’s easier than what Freya has to do.

“You look incredible, Lara. Like a CEO and a fairy godmother had a power suit baby.”

I laugh, tension cracking slightly. “High praise.”

“Kevin’s just finished talking to the board members,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He said he had something personal planned for today.”

A shiver runs through me. Personal?

Gabriel steps close behind us to listen but not seem part of the conversation.

“Personal for me?” I ask. “Or personal for you?”

The way her features fall, the word personal has taken on a whole new shape.

“I don’t know. I… just wanted to get away from him. Most of his words went right through me.” She lowers her voice. “I’m really nervous.”

“Me, too, babe. Just remember, we’re not here to storm the castle. We just have to act normal. Buy time.”

“What the hell is normal?”

I sigh. “It’s a philosophical question we don’t have time for.”

She shakes her head and almost laughs. This is truly absurd.

Gabriel steps closer, pressing his earpiece and pretending to show us something on the clipboard. “Where is Kevin now?”

Freya points to the clipboard, playing the game. “He’ll be here…” She senses something in her peripheral vision, looks up, and beams. “Hey!”

Just then, Kevin materializes beside us—smooth and polished, with perfectly combed hair that screams East Coast old money. He claps a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder but pretty much ignores him like he does those considered minions.

He leans in and air kisses me on the cheek. “You ready to make history?” he asks, eyes glinting. “Biggest year on record.”

He takes Freya’s fingertips. Anton’s gaze flicks to Kevin’s hand, and the heat in it could laser that shit clean off.

“Baby girl,” Kevin addresses Freya as if she’s more important than he’s ever treated her. “Could you help set the tables with the volunteers? We’re one man short.” He doesn’t wait for Freya to say yes or no. “Chop-chop.”

Anton follows Freya into the ballroom, and Gabriel has now slid behind Kevin, who still hasn’t even thought about who this man might be. He’s so pompous. So entitled.

Kevin’s lips curve up into a thin smile. “Speech ready? We need to make sure everyone remembers who built this place.”

“How could I forget?” Even I don’t believe the sweetness in my voice. It’s damn hard to pretend not to want to strangle this man.

He rubs his hands together. “All right, I’ve got places I’m needed. It’s looking good, Lara.”

He walks off, and I let go of the breath that was tight in my lungs.

For the next hour, everything unfolds like a performance we’ve rehearsed a hundred times. Gabriel fades into the background, not too close, but never far. He’s a shadow stitched to my spine.

Anton has his eyes on Freya, who’s doing a damn good job of pretending not to want to murder Kevin. Together, we play our parts—the poised speaker, the poster child, the attentive staff.

I have ten minutes until I give my speech, and then we can eat and go. God, I hope Rio stitches things together fast on his end. We need to take Kevin down. Find Belinda. Expose these two, and maybe more of them, for the cons they are.

I’ve never been good at being something I’m not. I don’t know how much longer I can play this charade. I’ll have to full-on lie again to the donors if it drags on. Maybe after I’ll call them one by one to apologize. I push away the shame that tells me I’ve been part of this scam, complicit or not.

This is going to eat me alive.

Every so often, I catch Kevin watching me from across the room. He talks to donors, flashes that gleaming smile, and charms the photographers.

By the time we’re in the green room, waiting for the final call to take the stage, I’m coiled tight. I keep going over my notes, not because I need them, but because I need something to do with my hands.

Gabriel is attentive, just in the hallway, there, without being a presence.

A soft knock rattles the frame of the green room door.

It’s Kevin.

He strolls in like this is an Oscar-winning moment. “Lara,” he says, all silky charm.

I stand to move toward the door. Near an exit. Near where I know Gabriel stands just beyond the frame.

“Great turnout,” I say evenly.

He steps inside, gaze roaming over the quiet prep room. “You know, I had a thought. Maybe we pivot the speech. Make it more… reflective. Emotional. I gave Freya some notes. I think she should give the speech.”

Is that what he meant by personal?

For as many times as I thought Freya should be the one giving speeches, he’s never proposed it, until now. What the hell does he have up his sleeve? Is this just coincidental or does he think I’m going to out him here and now? He doesn’t want me talking… he wants to silence me.

I don’t give a shit about giving a speech, about taking credit… but this change. Why? My instinct tells me to resist and see how he reacts.

“We agreed on my speech weeks ago.”

Charm oozes from his mouth. “Right. Of course. But truly, she’s our most powerful messenger. Even you told me that long ago.”

For the first time, I catch something sharp behind his smile. A sliver of malice. It feels like he’s already written the ending, and I’m not in it.

Silence blooms like smoke.

I have to act normal.

And normal is that I’ve always advocated for Freya to be the speaker at these events.

“I’m thrilled you’ve decided to have Freya speak. She is walking proof of hope for every donor, not to mention she wants this. She’s more passionate and empathetic than either of us could ever be for this cause.”

Gabriel doesn’t step into the room, but the toe of his boot appears in the doorway.

Kevin’s eyes flick past me toward the mirrored dressing table. “We need to think about this more at Scarlet Hope,” he adds, almost absently, “the way we’ve been going about things. I’ve been thinking about just how fragile a reputation really is.”

I steady myself. Is he trying to unnerve me? Get a reaction?

“Couldn’t agree more.”

Is this a chance for me to think he’s getting to me? I rarely talk to Kevin face-to-face like this. I need to make him think his plan has worked. That I’m thrown. Off my game. That maybe I’ll even drop the ball. Just like he wants.

“On that note, Kevin, I’m sorry if I’ve been less than effective lately. I’ve been having some personal life issues, an ex-boyfriend who hasn’t taken the hint, and it’s been really distracting. I’m working hard not to let it affect my numbers. I’m all in. Just so you know.”

The lie is lead on my tongue, and I wish I could spit bullets instead.

He lifts his eyebrows, and I can’t tell if he’s surprised, curious, or intrigued. “I’m sorry to hear that. But I think I can count on you. Can’t I?”

“You can.”

“Are you sure?” No three words have ever been more loaded. “We can’t let all these people down because of some tryst gone wrong. This is important work. Life-changing work.”

I’ll be changing your life all right.

“I get it. Don’t worry. And I’m glad Freya’s speaking. It will make it easier to drum up those extra donations tonight.”

He simply nods, turns without another word, and walks out.

The moment the door clicks shut behind him, my lungs rebel.

A cough punches out of me, then another. My whole body seizes. I grip the edge of the vanity, knuckles white, bent double as my chest tightens.

Water. I need water.

Gabriel is back through the door and closes it behind him.

He grabs a bottle of water, unscrews the cap, and steadies me with one hand while offering it with the other.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, the pad of his thumb brushing under my eye where a pressure tear has escaped. “You did so damn well.”

He rubs my back hard, and the jostling feels good, but sometimes, once I start coughing, it’s hard to stop. Anxiety is such a trigger.

But the burn in my chest is nothing compared with the fire I feel toward Kevin. It’s fury. Shame. The ice-cold realization that Kevin isn’t just a fraud. He’s a threat.

“I need a minute,” I whisper hoarsely. “Maybe splash my face.”

Gabriel tucks the bottle into my hands, wraps his arm around my waist again like he’s not ready to release me to the world.

“Some cold water…” I hack again. “Might do the trick.”

He doesn’t need another word, he just keeps his arm wrapped around me and escorts me down the hall. When we get to the restroom, he pushes the bathroom door open and calls inside, “Man incoming.”

I roll my eyes. “Nice.”

“What should I say?”

I shrug.

Nobody answers, probably because everyone near this restroom should be seated. Freya is about to make her speech, and lunch will be served shortly. I stand just inside the door as Gabriel sweeps the stalls, checks the vent is screwed on, and rattles the locked handle of the janitor closet door.

“All clear.” Then he leans against the wall next to the door as if waiting.

So much for ugly coughing in privacy.

But just then, the door pushes open and a woman in a designer dress huffs at Gabriel, not taking her eyes off him until the very last minute when she enters a stall.

She must be a donor.

“It’s fine,” I say quietly, gesturing my head toward the now closed stall. “I’ll be right out.”

“I’m right here. Two steps away.” And he slips out.

The bathroom is cool. White tile. The buzz of air vents and distant bass from the speakers outside. I set the water bottle down, brace myself on the sink, and stare at my reflection.

I look haunted.

Cough.

Ugh.

I run the tap. Splash cold water on my face. Once. Twice.

A new cough hits hard, sharper this time. I grab at the paper towels blindly, blinking back tears.

Then—

A click. Soft. Metallic.

Not like the latch of the stall.

Then, I turn and catch sight of icy aquamarine eyes. Blue Eyes. From the bar. From the pharmacy.

Trent.

I make a move, open my mouth to scream, but it’s swallowed by a huge hand stuffing a rag in my mouth and a vicious tug. My whole body leaves the floor and I’m instantly held against Trent’s broad chest. I thrash, kick. My heel slams into his shin, but he’s strong…

“Excuse me?” The lady’s voice comes from the stall. “Can you pass me some toilet paper?”

Trent is so much bigger than I am. My resistance is futile and he quickly backs us both into the now open door of the janitor’s closet.

“Miss?”

We’re inside…

“Miss, are you still there?”

The door shuts.

The light vanishes.

And the dark closes in.