Page 41 of Fallen Roses

I hate the pain that flares in her eyes as realization pushes aways the easy atmosphere between us.

“I see.”

If anything, she appears thoughtful and then nods, a determined glint in her eye.

“So, she is in town.”

“Unfortunately, yes. She flies in once a month to check on The Rose Foundation, among other things.”

“Other things?” She raises her eyes and I nod miserably.

“Meetings, gala events, generally networking and flogging me half to death makes for a pleasant trip.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.”

Ana’s eyes shine with the determination that I’ve grown to adore about her.

She leans forward. “I have a plan.”

“You do?”

I shift closer and the spark of mischief that lights her eyes causes me to grin.

As she whispers the details, I listen to every word because if we are going to be successful, I must play my part. It’s risky and could go extremely wrong, but right now I have nothing to lose and the rest of my life to gain.

When she finishes, I nod with a reluctance that causes her to say anxiously, “I’m sorry, James. If I could think of a better way, I would.”

“It’s fine. It’s a good plan.”

We finish our meal in silence, my appetite having somewhat deserted me, but I try my best to remain cool knowing the only way out of this nightmare is to play the woman at her own game.

The receptionist doesn’t even lookup when I grunt, “Nicole Francis.”

“Sure, room three two five.”

My heart is heavy as I head to the elevator and attempt to quash the fear that always accompanies these visits.

I used to count down the days until I could forget. To empty my mind as she dominated it. Now, more than anything, I wish I were anywhere else because the man who is walking in my shoes changed when Ana burst into my life.

I hold my breath as the door closes and I press the display for the third floor.

I am alone.

It always felt as if I was, but now this seems wrong. I am in a relationship now. At least that’s how I see it, and picturing Ana’s pretty face makes me hate myself more than I ever thought possible.

The door shudders open and my footsteps are silenced by the brown and tan carpet that stretches the length of the huge corridor. This hotel is not the best one in town. Not even close, more like in the middle, and it’s that way for a reason.

Anonymity.

Adele uses a different name every trip and texts it to me the day before she arrives. Today she is Nicole Francis, a fictitious woman for a reason, because if news got out that the governor’s wife was into shit like this, he could say goodbye to the Whitehouse.

That is Ana’s plan. To set Adele up and present her with the evidence. To blackmail her for my freedom.

Just the thought of what happens in that room being on camera makes me want to hurl, but I know it will never get out into the public domain. Adele will never let that happen and, as plans go, it’s basic but brilliant.

Ana told me to leave the surveillance to her. Mikhail would arrange it, along with the subsequent threat. I’m beginning to wonder if there is nothing this family can’t do and wonder if I’ve stepped from one hell into another.

I reach the room and my heart sinks as I rap loudly on the door, only a second passing before it’s opened and I’m ushered inside.

---