Page 54 of The Billionaires' Gamble

“Left,” he says when I get to the top stair.

For half a heartbeat, I contemplate kicking him in the face and making a run for it. But I have no idea where to go or who I might run into. Nor do I know my way around this boat.

For all I know, he’s the nice kidnapper. And anyone could be behind this.

He guides me through a stainless steel galley kitchen and down an opulent hall with intricate marble tile floors. Brass sconces light our way. Definitely a yacht. Not one I’m familiar with, but it’s big, expensive, and luxurious. So it’s someone with connections. Money. Status.

Does Alex have enemies? Gabe?

Was Alex right? Is someone trying to hurt them or their business by taking me?

Or the kidnapper could straight-up ask for a ransom. It’s no secret that my parents are loaded.

My stomach turns at the thought. Between the two of them, someone could get away with millions. Tens of millions.

Not to mention Kingston, Alex, and Gabe. Each is wealthy in his own right and publicly connected to me now, even if tangentially.

Would they pay?

They did once, but?—

The boat dips again, and I lose my balance, bumping into the wall.

“This is you,” he says, pausing outside a door. Once again, my stomach does a somersault.

“I don’t understand.” I really don’t. This looks like a stateroom. Why tie me up in the engine room only to bring me upstairs?

“Like I said?—”

“Above your pay grade,” I cut in, losing my patience but too scared to fight back. “Is there a bathroom around?”

“Do I look like a tour guide?”

I lift my chin and give him my iciest stare. He’s not that much taller than me, and I’ve found it works on people of all shapes and sizes.

Gray eyes meet mine. There are stormy circles beneath. It looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately, and I take a tiny bit of satisfaction in that. There’s a terrible burn scar down the right side of his neck.

“If the boot fits,” I say, holding my ground. His lips twitch, and I’m not sure if it’s from amusement or condescension.

Without another word, he opens the door and waves me inside.

I cross the threshold sideways, not trusting him in the slightest. He closes the door, and I turn, looking for a phone. There’s not one in the sitting room. I check both sides of the bed. Nothing. There are matching doors on either side of the room, and I’ve been on board enough yachts to guess they’re double bathrooms. Please let there be a phone next to the vanity.

I race across the plush carpet, sling open the door, and slam into a body.

19

GABE

King and I follow our guards through the halls of Alex’s building, our footsteps echoing on the polished concrete. I have a feeling they’re not going to let us out of their sight until we get Katherine back. And probably for a long while after that.

I just keep telling myself we are getting her back, even though there’s been no ransom demand as of yet. Any alternative is unthinkable, and I’d never say the words aloud.

Alex came straight here from the airport and sent for us, which was probably a smart move. The sleek, charcoal colored skyscraper is one of the most secure buildings in the city. And until we know what’s going on, there’s a target on all our backs.

That’s partly thanks to the media, who are whipped into a frenzy and camped out in front of the townhouse. I’m not sure who opened their mouth, the police or the paramedics, but my PR team’s already fielding calls, and King’s been on the phone with Ford and his father for the last ten minutes. Roman’s in surgery, and we’re all eager for an update.

We pass a wall of TV screens, showing news from around the world, and turn a corner. Alex’s office is at the end, and I lengthen my stride.