Page 4 of The Forgery Mate (Taken by His Alpha #6)
T he stolen Valenne rests in the hidden lockbox installed beneath my back seat, and I grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. Late-night streets blur past my windshield as I drive toward the last place on earth I want to return to.
Rockford Manor holds a cathedral of my regrets, and I’m walking back through its doors with nothing but a flimsy excuse and the hope that no one, especially not Ezra, will recognize the ghost who once warmed his bed.
My rational mind screams at me to turn around. Jade isn’t my problem. He’s an entitled rich kid who got himself in trouble. If I get involved, I risk losing my freedom and the quiet anonymity I’ve spent a lifetime building.
But his face haunts me, the sunken cheeks, the fear beneath his bravado. No one deserves that fate.
The mansion appears on the horizon, floodlights illuminating its stone facade against the night sky. My stomach twists as I approach the familiar iron gates, air bubbles of memory surfacing from the dark waters of my mind.
Ezra pulling me by the hand through those gates at midnight, both of us drunk on expensive wine and the thrill of sneaking out. His laughter bouncing off the wrought iron as we returned, dawn breaking behind us. His lips caressing my neck, whispering promises neither of us could keep.
Security cameras pivot toward me as I slow at the gate, and I drop my head so the long bangs of the wig hide my face.
The guard approaches, and I lower my window. “I need to speak with Aaiden Rockford. It’s regarding Jade Bustly. It’s urgent.”
He studies me with suspicion before he steps back to make a call.
I wait, fingers tapping the steering wheel.
The gates slide open with an electronic hum. “Park by the east entrance,” the guard instructs. “Someone will meet you there.”
I navigate the familiar curves of the driveway, the manicured gardens blurring past. The fountain in the center courtyard continues its endless cycle, water catching moonlight as it falls.
Thirty-one days I lived here, mapping its corridors and cataloging its treasures while pretending, or not so pretending, to be entranced by the youngest member of their generation.
I never expected to return.
I park where instructed and take a steadying breath before exiting the car. The manor’s east entrance is more subdued than the grand front doors, a practical concession to business visitors rather than social guests. Its efficiency suits my purpose.
A Beta in a tailored suit waits at the door, her posture rigid, expression unreadable. “This way, please.”
I follow her through the side entrance into a hallway lined with hidden security cameras. The still air holds the same traces of old books, polished wood, and the particular clean scent that speaks of money and power.
My body reacts before I can stop it, stomach tightening and breaths shortening, a shiver stroking up my spine as we pass the corridor to Ezra’s wing.
We ascend a flight of stairs, turn left, then right. The route is circuitous, designed to disorient visitors and provide multiple checkpoints for security. I pretend not to see the guards stationed at key junctions, tracking our progress.
“Wait here.” The Beta gestures to a bench outside a set of oak doors I recognize as Aaiden Rockford’s study.
She disappears inside, leaving me alone in the hushed corridor.
I remain standing, too wired to sit, and stuff my hands into my pockets to stop myself from fidgeting.
The doors open, and the Beta reappears. “Mr. Rockford will see you now.”
The study holds soaring bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes. A massive desk carved from a single piece of ancient oak sits at the center, with tall windows at the back that overlook the sprawl of manicured grounds behind the manor.
Aaiden stands at the window with his back to me, silhouetted by the night landscape, a tumbler of amber liquid in his hand.
“I understand you have information about Jade Bustly,” he says without turning, his tone cool.
“Yes.” I keep my distance, hovering by the door. “He’s being held captive at Halcyon Hall.”
Now Aaiden turns, his eyes sweeping over me with clinical detachment.
I see no flicker of recognition, no indication he remembers paying me fifty thousand dollars to disappear from his cousin’s life.
Either he’s an exceptional actor, or I was simply one of many such transactions, too insignificant to recall.
The thought burns. How many lovers has he paid to leave? How many hearts has he calculated the price of breaking?
He gestures to a chair across from his desk. “Explain.”
I remain standing. “I was at Halcyon Hall tonight, setting up for an event. I discovered a hidden room containing a cage. Jade Bustly was inside it.”
Aaiden’s expression doesn’t change, but he sets his glass down with deliberate care. “And how did you come to discover this hidden room?”
“I was exploring areas I shouldn’t have been in,” I admit, crafting truth into the shape of a lie. “I’ve always been fascinated by architecture.”
His eyes narrow. “You trespassed.”
“Yes.”
“Why come to me with this information? Why not the police?”
I offer the prepared explanation. “Jade mentioned the Rockfords when I spoke to him. He said he grew up here.” I pause, watching Aaiden’s face. “And the police would ask too many questions about why I was there.”
Aaiden moves around his desk, his movements controlled. “What else did Jade tell you?”
“He’s been there five days, and they’re selling him at their gallery event tomorrow.” I swallow, choosing my next words with care. “The kind of people who are attending the auctions at Halcyon Hall aren’t there to bid on legal merchandise.”
His fingers skim the polished wood of the desktop. “They’re trafficking humans?”
“I only saw Jade. He’s been beaten. They’re keeping him alive but weak.” I glance back toward the closed doorway, itching to get out of this place. “The auction is tomorrow night.”
Aaiden studies me with cold calculation, and I duck my head, blink quickly, and hunch my shoulders. Nothing but a Beta, intimidated by the billionaire Alpha standing in front of him.
“Why do you care what happens to Jade Bustly?”
The question catches me off guard. Why do I care? Because Jade is young and scared? Because helping him might balance the scales for the hurt I caused Ezra? Because his imprisonment is a crime I can’t ignore, even if my hands aren’t clean?
“No one deserves to be priced and sold like they’re nothing,” I say at last.
Aaiden regards me for a long moment. “I’ll need the exact location of Halcyon Hall.”
I provide the address, watching as he enters it into his phone.
“Wait here.” He strides toward the door. “I need to bring someone else in on this matter. You’ll need to give us directions on how to find Jade.”
My heart stutters, afraid of him bringing in more Rockfords. “I can write it down for you.”
But Aaiden is already gone, the heavy door closing behind him with the finality of a tomb being sealed.
I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The study stretches wide around me, but the weight of its history closes in.
I pace the perimeter of the room, my footsteps muffled by the thick Persian rug.
The walls are lined with books I know Aaiden has never read, the first editions and leather-bound classics selected for appearance rather than content.
The few I’d pulled down during my month here had pristine, uncracked spines.
Sebastian makes the most sense. As head of security, he’d have the resources to extract Jade from Halcyon Hall. Or Raphael, with his connections to legitimate business channels. Even Nolan, who owns half the real estate in the city, could leverage influence with Halcyon’s owner.
Anyone but Ezra will be fine.
My fingers trail across the edge of Aaiden’s desk, the wood cool and smooth beneath my touch. A silver letter opener catches my eye, its ornate handle belying the sharpness of its blade. I resist the urge to pocket it. Old habits.
What am I doing here? I delivered my message.
I’ve done more than most would in my position.
Jade’s fate is in the Rockfords’ hands now, where it belongs.
My continued presence only increases the risk of running into Ezra who, according to Jade, has been hunting for me.
Ezra, who went feral when I disappeared.
The thought sends a complicated shiver down my spine, equal parts fear and a darker, more primal emotion. I shouldn’t care how he reacted to my absence. It was never real between us, just a character I played, a mark I seduced.
The fact that I sometimes forgot I was acting is irrelevant.
I move to the window, staring out at the moonlit grounds. In the distance, I spot the silhouette of the old stables, where Ezra had pressed me against an empty stall with an intensity that made my knees weak. Where he mapped my body like my flesh was his to give form and life.
For thirty-one days, I lived in his orbit, slept in his bed, used his shower, and wore his clothes when mine were in the laundry.
I learned the way he drank his coffee black with no sugar, how he muttered fragments of poetry and art auction lot numbers in his sleep, and the exact pressure of his hands when he was trying to be gentle but failing, always too urgent, too hungry.
I’d gotten too close, forgotten the cardinal rule of my profession. Never believe your own lies.
The door could open at any minute. Aaiden could return with Ezra, and I’d be trapped in this room with the one person who might see through my disguise.
I need to leave. Now.
Crossing to the door, I press my ear to the wood. The corridor beyond is silent. No footsteps, no voices. This might be my only chance to escape before I’m forced to face whatever complicated emotions await me in Ezra’s presence.
I’ve done my duty. I’ve told the Rockfords about Jade. They’ll handle it from here. They have the resources, the connections, and the manpower to save him. My continued involvement is unnecessary.