Page 15 of Peyton's Price

“I can’t think of anything I’d rather do less than have a big wedding,” he groused.

Used to his usual taciturn disposition, she ignored his grouchiness. “And that’s why I will soldier on with the wedding planners on my own.”

“You can?” Liam sat up, hope lightening his mood.

Her smile was tinged with amused condescension. “Yes, darling. That way you can focus on the details of the hotel merger. Father is understandably eager to have everything settled.”

He got to his feet with a smile. This was what Trick didn’t understand about his relationship with Caroline. As a hostess, she was unsurpassed. She always knew what to say and do in the rarified circles they moved in. Plus, she was self-contained. Caroline didn’t need him. Her most appealing trait was that she would never make demands or set standards that would be difficult to meet.

Caroline understood their hotels came first. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she shied away, patting him on the arm.

“Don’t mess up my makeup dear. I’m meeting the Grove sisters for lunch in a few minutes.”

He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for taking over the wedding prep,” he said, feeling particularly grateful.

He’d have to ask his secretary to pick up something special for Caroline, maybe a necklace or some earrings. Tina always knew what Caroline liked.

His fiancée’s laugh was light and frothy, like chilled champagne. “Don’t thank me yet. If you find anything objectionable in the proceedings or the reception, I don’t want to hear any complaints. In fact, I expect you to be very vocal in your compliments.”

He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Even if I end up hating the flowers?”

“Especially if you end up hating the flowers.” On that note, she departed with an airy wave.

Liam watched the door, wondering if he should have mentioned he was heading back out to the West Coast.

His stomach felt a bit unsettled over the omission, but Liam dismissed the idea the feeling might be guilt.

He was only going to check on a friend. He’d go tonight, and he’d use the charm bracelet as an excuse. Liam knew Peyton would want it back.

Chapter 9

Peyton’s head lolled as she fought the effects of the drug.

The atmosphere was making it difficult. If only there was some sort of breeze or something to shift this stale air, but there were no windows in this damn dungeon. Metallic and heavy, the air in the cell settled over her like a dirty blanket.

She had no idea what day it was. It felt like she’d been in this hole for a week, but she knew it hadn’t been that long—it had been two days at the most.

Maybe it’s more. Her memories were hazy. She remembered voices and movement. Someone had tried to question her, but she wasn’t able to recall any of the conversation. And despite her isolation, it wasn’t quiet. It seemed like there was always someone talking or crying in the background.

Hands had touched her.

Peyton didn’t think she had been raped, but she still felt violated.

I could be wrong about that, too.

She had been given something to make her weak, but her awareness seemed intact. An ultra-light sleep was either a side effect of the crap they’d injected her with, or her stress had kept her on edge enough to keep her in this zombified, but mostly conscious, state.

A few hours later, she had worked herself up to a seated position. Her vision was clearer, enabling her to make out details of her location. Then she wished she couldn’t.

It was a cell. The walls were painted metal. A bare toilet was positioned in the corner, but it appeared rough, the bolts shiny and half stripped as if someone had forced it into position—an afterthought in a makeshift prison.

Forcing her feeble muscles to obey her, Peyton dragged herself to that toilet to make use of it, but judging by the state and smell of her clothing, it was too late. She did her best to clean up with the water she found in a bucket, but she cut her ablutions short. This might be all they were going to give her to drink. There was no sink in the room.

Drinking from a tap would have been safer. Did she even dare drink the bucket water? What if that was how they’d been administering the drug? She only remembered that first shot. Surely that single injection hadn’t lasted till now?

She glanced at the remaining water. How long could a person go without? A few days at most. People could survive much longer without food.

They won’t starve you.That wasn’t the point. She had to stay attractive. Dylan had traded her to pay off his debt, which meant she was worth something to these people. Letting her die of starvation would be counterproductive.

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