Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
He shoots me a glance, and I see the worry etched into his face. I force a smile, even though my heart’s pounding.
“So much for our weekend getaway, huh?”
His smile is strained. “Not exactly what I had planned, but we’ll figure it out once we’re off this damn boat.”
I nod, starting to pack up. If this were a normal trip, my clothes would still be in my suitcase, but in the world of the one percenters, someone’s already unpacked for me. “It’s fine, Damien. Maybe this is a sign it was a bad idea to begin with.”
“It wasn’t. Last night was perfect. You were perfect.” He grabs my arms, his grip tight, his expression fierce. “Whoever did this, I’ll find them. And I’ll make them pay.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but honestly, getting off this ship sounds great right now.”
“Next time we’ll charter a private yacht, just for us.” His lips brush softly across my own. “That’s a promise.” A knock at the door interrupts us, and the phone rings at the same time. “I’ll get the phone. You grab the door.”
He nods, hesitating before finally pulling away from me.
I answer the phone. The doctor confirms it—benzos in my blood. Someone drugged me. Intentionally. But why? The doctor has no answers for that, so I thank him and hang up.
Damien closes the door behind the valet and turns to me. “The helicopter’s here. Ready to go?”
I nod before doing one final sweep of the suite to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind and then grab my bags.
“I got them,” Damien says in a soft voice like he’s talking to a scared kitten.
“I can carry my bags, Damien.”
“I know you can,” he growls, “but let me do this.”
I throw my hands up. “Fine.”
The helicopter ride is silent, except for the steady thwack-thwack of the blades. I stare out at the ocean, my mind racing.
This case. These murders. The cameras in my home. Everything’s spinning out of control, and now I’ve been drugged.
It has to be this killer.
When we land, I turn to Damien. “I think I’m going home tonight.”
He looks at me, his face hard to read. “You blame me for this.”
“No. I just need some space to think. I need to focus on the case. Whoever did this—whoever’s behind these murders—I have to figure out what the hell is going on before another body drops.”
“You still think I’m in that photo, don’t you?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what the killer thinks. And I need to get ahead of him. Take me home.”
“No.”
“Fine. I’m more than capable of getting there myself.” I knew he wouldn’t like it. Hell, I don’t like it. Living with him has been amazing, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve been too distracted to see the danger right in front of me. “This isn’t about you, Damien. It’s about me.”
“But I’m the one you want to leave.” His voice is tight, but there’s a pleading look in his eyes. “Stay. Go back to the guest room if you need to, but at least let me know you’re close. Please.”
I hate how much his vulnerability gets to me. “We both know if I stay, it won’t be in the guest room.”
His lips curve into a slight smile. “That’s not a problem for me.”
“Damien,” I sigh.
“You were drugged, Frankie. I need to keep an eye on you.” He steps closer, threading his fingers through my hair. “If you won’t stay, I’ll have my security team follow you.”
I don’t want to argue. “Fine. I’ll go home with you.”
He smiles, a mix of relief and satisfaction, before kissing me.
And despite everything, I kiss him back.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Damien
“I’m fine Damien. I promise.” Frankie’s tone is patient but insistent. “I went back to the doctor, and he said there are no traces of the drug in my system and since I have new memories in the seventy-two hours since I was drugged, the risk of long-term amnesia is as close to zero as the doctor will say. I’m good.”
“If you say so. Have you heard anything about the investigation?”
“Not yet. The ship’s security is investigating what happened, but nothing meaningful has come out of it. I wish I could dig deeper into it, but with this case—and you—keeping me busy, it’s hard to focus on anything else. I still can’t believe I was drugged. Thank God I’m okay.”
“That’s exactly how I feel too. Thank God my precious pet is okay.”
I won the battle to keep Frankie at the penthouse, though it wasn’t easy. No need to smother her now. We’ve become closer in ways I never thought possible since our hasty exit from cruise liner. My brilliance shone through when I slipped that little cocktail into her water glass. Perfect timing, really. The drug took effect as she drifted off, satiated and unsuspecting. Who knew such a tiny vial could rewrite the entire story?