Page 57 of The Billionaires' Gamble

Could my mother really be behind this?

I mean, who else could it be?

My mind races through names and faces. With the Montgomery last name, you’re bound to have enemies. And since my grandfather took the helm, that list has grown even bigger, I’m sure. I’ve been in plenty of meetings that have frosted over thanks to something he did.

And sure, I’m not privy to all the company secrets, but I know plenty. If Tyler weren’t here, I’d say maybe someone was fishing for insider details. Or even straight-up cash.

Which makes me wonder if Tyler’s lying. What if he’s in on this? Trying to play on my sympathies, get close?

The yacht rocks gently, and I press a hand to my stomach. I’ve never been seasick before, but this is not pleasant. And my head hurts like someone’s been using it as a snare drum.

“What do you remember?” he asks.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I never trust you again.”

He nods his head, looking regal. “That’s fair.” He moves toward the sofa in the sitting room. There’s a dark smudge on the side of his slacks, which is out of place for him. He’s always polished and put together.

He settles into the corner, legs crossed, hands folded neatly in his lap. Shon and I used to joke about him attending finishing school.

My knees beg me to have a seat, but I’m afraid to become too stationary. What if I need to run?

Okay, let’s not panic. Look for a way out. Some way to call for help. Yeah, that’s good.

Fighting the anxiety that has me vibrating like a leaf in a storm, I move to the bathroom. The space is just as luxurious as the rest of the boat. Polished marble, brushed brass accents, and plenty of glass and mirrors with soft lighting that makes the room sparkle.

No phone. No window I could squeeze out of. That must be why they put us here. No doubt the windows in the bedroom and sitting room don’t open. Which means these aren’t even the primary suites. This is a really big yacht. Expensive as it gets.

The closet is bare. A search of the bedroom once again turns up empty. Why couldn’t someone have dropped a cell phone by accident?

I guess there’s no service out here anyway, which means we have to get to the bridge.

“I think it’s also fair to say that I hope I never see your mother again,” Tyler says conversationally.

“You and me both,” I mutter as I stalk to the door and open it. My kidnapper stands in the middle of the hall as if he expected my appearance.

“Stay in your room.”

“Or what?” When did I get so brave?

His bored but alert expression doesn’t even flicker at my bravado. “Or you can go back down to the engine room to wait.”

Obviously, the stateroom is miles more comfortable, but I don’t trust Tyler as far as I can throw him.

“What are we waiting for?” I ask, glancing past him. Could I make a run for it?

I size him up. He’s got that whole ‘I train before breakfast’ thing going for him, but I’m a woman pumping with adrenaline.

He cuts a glance down the hallway, then back at me. My jaw clenches at his silence.

“Right. Above your pay grade.”

I shut the door, sealing myself inside with my ex.

There’s a faint buzzing sound, and I move back to the window. Is that an anchor? It looks like we’ve stopped moving.

“Helicopter?” Tyler asks.

The sound gets louder, and I lean against the window, practically pressing my nose against the cool glass. Still nothing but water. Little waves and an endless blue-green.