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TWENTY-FOUR

AUDREY

I wake to darkness and the taste of chemicals in my mouth. My head pounds with each heartbeat, a relentless throb that makes even opening my eyes an exercise in agony.

I try to swallow, but my tongue feels swollen, my throat raw.

Where am I?

I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light filtering through heavy curtains.

This isn’t Reign’s cabin. This isn’t anywhere I recognize.

Panic surges through me, but I push it down, focusing instead on gathering information.

The room is large and expensively furnished—a king-sized bed with silk sheets, antique furniture, original artwork on the walls. A prison disguised as luxury.

Memories flash back in disjointed fragments. Stopping for the checkpoint. A sound behind me. Strong hands grabbing me. A sharp pain in my neck. Then nothing.

“Reign,” I whisper, my voice cracking on his name.

I push myself to a sitting position, fighting a wave of nausea that threatens to overwhelm me.

The room spins as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. Whatever they injected me with is still coursing through my system, making my movements clumsy and slow. I reach for the bedside lamp, my fingers fumbling with the switch before soft light floods the immediate area.

I recognize this place now. The lakehouse. Gio’s private retreat where he brings fighters to train before big matches. I’ve only been here once, for a promotional photoshoot last summer, but the distinctive cedar paneling and decor are unmistakable.

Which means Gio has me.

I try to stand, but my legs buckle, sending me back onto the mattress. Don’t panic, I tell myself. Think. Reign will realize I’m missing. He’ll come for me. But how will he know where to look?

Whatever they drugged me with hasn’t fully cleared my system. I notice I’m still wearing the same clothes—jeans and the soft blue sweater I chose for traveling. At least no one changed me while I was unconscious.

I wiggle my toes. Where are my shoes? I scan the room but don’t see them. I stand carefully, steadying myself against the bedpost until the room stops spinning.

“Think, Audrey,” I mutter to myself. “Assess the situation.”

The bedroom is approximately two hundred square feet, decorated in cream and gold.

A sitting area with two armchairs and a small table occupies one corner.

Heavy curtains cover what I assume are windows along one wall.

A door that likely leads to a bathroom stands ajar on the opposite wall.

The main door is closed, and I’d bet everything it’s locked.

I move to the curtains first, pulling them back to reveal windows that stretch nearly from floor to ceiling.

The pristine waters of Lake Cooper stretch before me, reflecting the mountains beyond.

It would be beautiful if it weren’t my prison.

I try the window latch, unsurprised to find it sealed shut.

The glass is thick, probably bulletproof, knowing Gio’s paranoia about security.

The bathroom is next—marble and chrome, stocked with expensive toiletries bearing Gio’s preferred Italian brands. No window. No escape route. Just another beautiful cage.

I return to the bedroom and methodically begin searching for anything I can use as a weapon or tool.

The drawers of the bedside table contain nothing useful.

Just a Bible and a remote control for the television concealed in an armoire.

The closet holds women’s clothing in my size, tags still attached.

The sight sends a chill down my spine. Gio planned this. He prepared for my captivity.

The desk in the corner yields better results. In the bottom drawer, beneath a stack of monogrammed stationery, I find a silver letter opener. Not ideal, but better than nothing. I slip it into my back pocket, continuing my search.

A sound at the door freezes me in place. Keys jingling, then the distinct click of a lock turning. I retreat to the center of the room, positioning myself where I can see both the door and the windows. Fight or flight instincts surge, but there’s nowhere to flee. So I prepare to fight.

The door swings open, and Gio steps inside.

He’s immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, and blue tie that probably costs more than most people’s monthly rent.

His dark hair is perfectly styled, his expression composed.

He carries a silver tray with what appears to be dinner—a covered plate, a glass of wine, silverware wrapped in a linen napkin.

Like this is a romantic evening rather than a kidnapping.

“Ah, you’re awake.” His accent thickens slightly, the way it does when he’s pleased. “I was beginning to worry the sedative was too strong.”

“Where are my shoes?” It’s not the most pressing question, but it’s the one that makes it past my lips.

He smiles, setting the tray on the small table in the sitting area. “Is that really your first concern, cara ? Not ‘why am I here’ or ‘what do you want’?”

“I know why I’m here.” I keep my voice steady despite the fear churning in my stomach. “And I know what you want.”

“Do you?” He gestures to the chair opposite the one he’s standing behind. “Please, sit. You must be hungry.”

I don’t move. “I want to leave.”

“And I want my fiancée back.” He removes the silver cover from the plate, revealing what looks like risotto with truffle shavings. “It seems we both want things we cannot have at the moment.”

“I’m not your fiancée anymore. I made that clear this morning.”

“Did you?” He sits, smoothing his tie with manicured fingers. “I recall a conversation where you were confused and emotional. Hardly a binding decision.”

The casual dismissal of my choice ignites anger that burns through my fear. “I returned your ring. I ended our engagement. There was nothing confused about it.”

“A temporary setback.” He pours wine into the single glass on the tray. “You’ve been under considerable stress lately. Lucille and I agree you need time to...recalibrate.”

“Lucille?” The mention of her sends ice through my veins. “What does she have to do with this?”

Gio takes a sip of wine, watching me over the rim of the glass. “Lucille called me immediately after your...dramatic exit from her office. She was quite concerned about your mental state.”

The betrayal shouldn’t hurt. I’ve known for years that Lucille’s loyalty is to the Worthington name, not to me, but it does. A deep, twisting pain that momentarily steals my breath.

“So, this is, what? An intervention?” I gesture to the locked room. “Kidnapping me is for my own good?”

“Such dramatic language.” He sighs, setting down his glass. “You haven’t been kidnapped, Audrey. You’re simply taking a much-needed break before our wedding. In fact, Lucille has already informed the appropriate parties that you’re at a wellness retreat, focusing on pre-wedding self-care.”

The calculated nature of their plan makes my blood run cold. No one will look for me. No one will question my absence. No one except Reign.

“How long have you known?” I ask, though I suspect I already know the answer.

Gio’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “About your...dalliance with the security contractor? Longer than you might think.”

He reaches into his jacket and removes several photographs, placing them on the table beside the untouched food. I don’t need to look closely to know what they show. Reign and me. Together.

“My security team is quite thorough,” he continues, his voice conversational as if discussing the weather. “The cabin in the mountains. The art competition in San Diego. Even that charming diner on the edge of town where you thought no one would recognize you.”

Each location he names feels like a violation. Our private moments, our sanctuary, all under surveillance. I think of Reign’s cabin, of the studio he built for me, of the freedom I felt there. All an illusion.

“If you knew, why wait until now?” I ask, needing to understand his strategy.

“I was curious how far you would take this little rebellion.” He straightens the photographs, aligning their edges with precise movements. “I wanted to see if you would come to your senses on your own. When it became clear you wouldn’t, intervention became necessary.”

“Intervention,” I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue. “You mean abduction.”

“Call it what you will.” He stands, buttoning his jacket with practiced ease. “The result is the same. You’ll remain here until you’ve had time to reconsider your rash decisions. Once you’re thinking clearly again, we’ll proceed with our wedding as planned.”

“And if I never ‘reconsider’?” I challenge, meeting his gaze directly.

“You will.” His confidence chills me to the bone. “You’re a practical woman, Audrey. You understand what’s at stake. Your family’s company, Lucille’s security, your own future. All of it depends on our union.”

“I don’t love you.” The words burst from me, raw and honest.

“Love?” He laughs, the sound devoid of humor. “Is that what you think you feel for him? This contractor with his mountain cabin and rough hands?”

“His name is Reign,” I say, lifting my chin. “And yes, I love him. We’re getting married.”

The words hit their mark. Gio’s composed facade cracks, revealing something dark and dangerous beneath. His eyes narrow, his jaw tightens, his hands curl into fists at his sides.

“You belong to me,” he says, his voice dropping to a register I’ve never heard before. “The contract is signed. The merger is in progress. Lucille has accepted my investment. There is no scenario where you walk away from this engagement.”

“I’m not a business asset,” I counter, though my voice trembles slightly. “I’m a person. I make my own choices.”