Page 63 of Stolen Love

We are running out of time. There are only three days left until Nicole realizes that I have no intention of doing what she wants and takes it out on Rogue. Which means we have three days to work out why she’s so determined to make me go through with marrying Nathaniel and how to stop her.

I have no idea how we’re going to do that.

My fingers close around the key at my throat. The presence of the warm bit of metal still makes no sense to me. The numbers from last night’s phone call could be for the Lotto as much as anything else. I’m having dreams where Dizzy and West are taunting me with things that I should know but don’t.

All I have are questions, when what we need are answers.

I glance out the window at the building that houses Nathaniel Croft’s law firm. I haven’t been here in years. Not since my dad was alive. But that deal he made… it doesn’t make sense… so there had to be a reason. Something that will help us understand the big picture. So we know what to do next.

He pulls the car up to the curb. “Let me get your door for you, Miss Love.”

“Thanks Jackson.” I unclip my seatbelt and take a few deep breaths to center myself while he hops out and walks around the outside.

Rogue was shut away with his lawyer when we left.

It was probably for the best. Not being around him is easier than having to shy away from his touch or watching him flinch like I’ve burned him.

Just like me, he is devastated because we were meant to have a lifetime of happiness. And instead all we have is tragedy.

The door opens and Jackson stands there. “Miss Love?”

“I’m ready.” A shiver runs down my neck as I step out of the car. The street is busy. The pavement is a river of moving bodies, filled with rips where people fight against the flow.

I feel eyes on me from every direction as Jackson cuts a path through the pedestrians for me. From the vehicle pulling up to the curb two cars down from ours. From the woman walking past who probably wonders why she recognizes my face but can’t pinpoint it yet. From the corner of the building, just out of sight.

“Not Alec,” I murmur to myself. We checked. Not fifteen minutes ago he was across town, eating breakfast at his favorite restaurant. Even if he knew this was where I was coming, he couldn’t have made it here yet.

I swipe clammy palms over the front of the lace dress I’m wearing. White like a wedding dress, chosen for that very reason. I’m hoping Nathaniel will read my wardrobe choice as a subtle hint that I’m preparing myself to be his wife and that he’ll drop his guard.

His office is on the fifth floor. It’s a short elevator ride, but the entire time I’m counting the numbers and scratching the pads of my thumbs with my nails.

We walk down a short hallway before glass doors open into an expansive reception area. I cross the honey wood floors ahead of Jackson. Abstract art and a curved white desk give the space a modern feel while tinted floor to ceiling windows let in the mid-morning sun.

The twenty-something woman at the desk has red pin curls and several phone calls on hold. She gives me the once-over as I approach her, then raises her hand when I open my mouth. “One moment.”

She finishes her conversation before looking at me again. Her gaze scuttles to Jackson, who is, as usual, making note of everything he sees. “How can I help you?”

“I want to see Nathaniel,” I demand.

Her eyes round in the corner. “Do you have an appointment?”

“He’ll want to see me.” I glance over my shoulder. I still feel like I’m being watched. Jackson doesn’t make me less aware of the danger, but he does make me feel safer.

There was no one in the elevator with us. And there is no one behind me now. Paranoia? Of course I’m paranoid. Rogue was right when he said this was a risky move. Even with Jackson here it feels like I’m sticking my fingers to the fire, knowing full well that I might get burned.

But I would rather fight for my freedom than have my fate dictated to me and not try to stop it.

The receptionist puts a call through to her boss, and before I can take a seat the door to his office opens. He fills the space in a black Tom Ford suit and gelled back hair. His eyes light up and a tentative smile flips up the corners of his mouth. “Ivy, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Bile threatens to rise in my throat. I almost put a hand to my belly to calm the nerves as I walk toward him. If I’m going to get anything from him I’m going to need to act like I’m at least planning on keeping my word.

“I want to see the contract.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ivy

His lips thin as his smile widens. His gaze narrows on the bodyguard trailing me. “Of course. Come into my office.”

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