Page 45

The announcement slices through your good mood.

The guests mill about, talking in pairs and even groups about their strategy, and you seriously consider heading briskly for the entrance and calling your car back.

Before you can really entertain that thought, however, Kai is by your seat, a brooding, extremely well-dressed mountain of bad attitude.

“We really don’t have to do this,” you mutter, unable to meet his eyes.

“I’m getting my damn party favor,” he fires back, sounding both pissed-off and determined.

The Historic Circle divides the arboretum roughly in half, but most of the guests move clockwise towards the Meadowbrook and Tallac Knoll sections.

Kai, having to be contrary, stalks in the opposite direction: back across the wide lawn, doubling back across from the entrance, and speeding past the Africa exhibit deep into the furthest section of the park, which is Australia.

It’s lit up back here as well, but distinctively more eerie.

Nobody is moving as fast as him, and nobody’s going this deep into the park. He’s a man on a mission.

“You’re really taking this treasure hunt seriously,” you comment, unsure what you are supposed to be looking for.

Around you, the Aussie trees rise in a forest, acacia and eucalyptus and bottle.

Their shadows hulk over the paths and partially swallow the light.

Irrationally, you’re reminded of how wide open the park is, and the fact that, despite the ample hired security, someone could, technically, be hiding in the trees.

A day guest that concealed themselves to cause trouble, or someone even more nefarious.

You shiver, and it isn’t because the night is slightly chilly.

Kai is walking fast, and not even bothering to stay beside you.

The alcohol is catching up with you slightly.

“Can we slow down?” you ask, only to be ignored.

Kai is looking down as he stalks the path, peering at the base of shrubbery and the roots of trees.

It’s a little hilarious to see his 6’4” self playing hide-and-seek with mystery prizes, but that could just be the champagne.

You’re thinking that he looks hot and fantasizing about pushing him up against a tree, even as you are getting increasingly irritated by his cold shoulder.

It’s beginning to feel like you are just a tag-along for his own private mission when he abruptly kneels beside a park bench and feels gingerly around its feet.

“What makes you think that anything is that well-hidden?” you ask. “It’s a birthday party. It’s not that serious.”

Again, he doesn’t answer, which spikes your crankiness.

Your dress shoes are beginning to pinch from all the fast walking, and you aren’t really dressed warmly enough for the coolness of the evening as it gets closer to midnight.

You’ve got a slightly dizzy headache, and you really don’t care about whatever treats Arch and Christine have hidden.

“Are you going to just ignore me?” you demand, your raised voice cutting through the thick, deep silence of the garden. “This is a waste of time.”

He glances over at you. “This is peak white-people Bridgerton bullshit,” he agrees. “And, no, I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“Oh, god,” you groan. “Super fucking mature, Kai. I didn’t drink enough for this.”

“I’m sure you drank plenty,” he mutters, getting up and continuing down the path.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you demand, following him. His stride is longer than yours, so you have to step briskly just to follow in his wake.

“It means that I’m tired of rich billionaires’ stupid games,” he announces without looking back.

There’s a deeply hurt, deeply snarky part of you that wants to crab back that you’ve never heard of a poor billionaire , as that’s an oxymoron. Instead, you stop on the path.

“I’m not a billionaire,” you announce stiffly.

He shakes his head. “Excuse me,” he says. “ Hundred-millionaires’ games doesn’t ring the same bell.”

“When did this turn into an excuse to bitch me out?” you ask.

“It’s not,” he says shortly. “I told you that I don’t want to talk.”

Piqued and hurt, you dare to veer away from him at a fork in the path that takes you deep into a copse of tall trees that cross limbs overhead, making a natural cathedral at least a hundred feet tall.

The ground is scrubby and picked out with Little John and dianella, if the signs are to be believed.

You briefly contemplate what it would be like to sleep under one of these giants.

The nearby eucalyptus scents the air, and the only sound is the breeze stirring the leaves and bristles. It’s more than a little eerie.

You might have missed it if you weren’t deeply contemplating the scenery, but, at the far end of the walkway, there’s a little structure just off the path.

It looks like a lifesize dollhouse. Gray and white, with a little gable roof, and a tri-paned window on each side with slatted shutters. There’s a lit lamp on the outside.

Before you can really think about whether it’s a good idea or not, you are calling Kai. At first, you don’t know if he’ll respond. But he appears a few seconds later.

“What?”

“Look.” You point at the tiny building. “How about in there?”

He scoffs audibly. “That’s a shed. They didn’t hide anything in there.”

Embarrassment prickles the back of your neck. On second glance, how could it not be a shed? The way he says it makes you feel out-of-touch, which was probably the intention.

“You don’t know that,” you push, doubling down. “It’s got a light on the outside. How do you know there’s nothing in there?”

Kai frowns. “Every inch of this damn place is lit up. Doesn’t mean it’s meant to be bothered. Probably belongs to one of the gardeners. It’s not for visitors to mess with.”

Boldly, you hitch your thumb. “Well, do what you want. I’m going to check it out.”

You don’t look back, but, to your surprise, he’s following you. You are mentally sweating what he is going to say if the door turns out to be locked, but, happily, the handle turns, and you can open the door.

It is, as Kai said, a gardener’s shed. There’s a long table down the middle of it, which is dusted with soil from potting plants.

Against the back wall, there’s floor-to-ceiling shelving.

In the front right corner, opposite the swing of the door, a tiny desk and chair are situated.

There’s a khaki jacket on the back of the chair and the contents of what appears to be a first aid kit spread out on the desk, like someone was restocking it.

The light coming in the windows is thin, barely enough to illuminate the interior.

You look for a light switch and can’t find one.

Behind you, Kai sighs. “I told you; it’s just some storage.”

Maybe it’s your star sign, maybe it’s your personality, but stubbornness settles in your belly. “No,” you declare. “I’m going to check it out.”

“Oh, yeah,” he retorts. “Trespassing in a garden shed. Great idea.”

“Well, shut the door if you are worried about getting caught,” you fire back. “There’s some stuff on these shelves.”

You hear the scrape of the door closing, which makes the interior of the shed quite dark indeed. Somehow, you can feel Kai’s presence, like he’s radiating heat and irritation. His glowering eyes burn your back.

Exploring the bottom shelves at the back of the shed is something you have to do more by feel than anything else. You’re about to give up, when—

“Knew it!” you crow. Your fingers close on a small paper bag. When you lift it to the grayish, filtered light coming through the windows, you see that it’s a gift bag, sage green and stuffed with ivory tissue. A swirly monogram, “AR,” is embossed on the outside.

“Stupid place for a party favor,” Kai grumbles, instead of acknowledging that your hunch was, in fact, correct.

You pay him no mind, and rummage in the gift bag. There’s a certificate inside for a day of pampering for two at a boutique Japanese spa, including couple’s facials and acupuncture, a hinoki bath soak, and a private lunch with sushi and organic teas.

“That sounds nice,” you offer.

“Ain’t nobody has time for all that when they have a job,” Kai huffs.

You tense up. “Well, you found your party favor,” you snap. “Can we leave now?”

“Sounds great,” he snipes back. Except that, when Kai shoulders the door, it doesn’t open.

“What the hell?” he growls.

You push past him and try the door yourself. It shimmies slightly, but won’t budge. Almost like…

“It’s stuck,” you announce.

“No shit,” Kai says. He uses his big hand and bangs on the door a few times, as if to loosen whatever part is stuck, then jiggles the handle again. It doesn’t work.

“Put some force into it,” you suggest. “You can knock over 300-pound guys; you can clearly force open a door.”

Kai thumps it again. “This isn’t TV,” he says. “This thing is solid wood. Maybe I can hit it hard enough to force it, but it’s either gonna smash down the middle or I’m gonna hurt myself. Not risking either.”

“Who cares if you break it?” you say. “We can’t be stuck in here. I can pay for a new door.”

“We all know you can,” he retorts acidly. “But, again, I’m not fucking up my shoulder in the middle of a season. I missed enough time already.”

“I don’t have my phone,” you realize, instinctively reaching for your pocket before remembering that you checked it.

He groans, having been in the midst of the same action. “Goddammit.”

Irritated, you slap the door with your hand, as hard as you can. “Hello?” you call loudly. “Is anyone there?”

“You know that nobody’s there,” he says. “This place isn’t exactly on the main trail.”

Anxiety ladders its way up your back. “Are we just going to be trapped all night?”

“Doubt it,” he says laconically. “When the party’s over, they’ll sweep the park to make sure everyone is gone and find us then.”

“That could take more than an hour!” you exclaim. “Maybe even two!”