Chapter 7 - OUR HONEYMOON WAS A TRAP
Adrian did not speak on the drive home.
Neither did I.
The silver key was gone.
Margaret was gone.
Three armed men were in police custody, but the account number was still burned into my memory.
At four in the morning, Adrian finally broke the silence.
“We leave Chicago tomorrow.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“You are.”
“I have a business here.”
“I bought your business.”
I turned toward him.
“You did what?”
“The bank sold the debt. I paid it.”
“Adrian.”
“It is still operating.”
“You cannot buy my life every time I refuse to follow you.”
“I can if buying it keeps you alive.”
“That is not the same thing as protecting me.”
He stared out the window.
“Then tell me what you call it.”
“Control.”
His jaw tightened.
“You are right.”
The admission surprised me.
I softened.
“Why do we have to leave?”
“The board is holding the investor retreat in Bermuda. The vote moved forward.”
“Why?”
“Someone leaked the marriage contract.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then someone close to you has it.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
His answer was quiet.
“Everyone.”
The private jet landed on a small island two days later.
The hotel was beautiful enough to feel unreal.
Ocean on both sides.
White stone buildings.
Private villas.
Staff who never asked questions.
Our public-relations team called it a honeymoon.
The investors called it a retreat.
I called it a trap.
The first night, we had dinner with six board members.
One of them, Gerald Price, smiled at me.
“So, Claire, how does it feel to marry the most difficult man in finance?”
I glanced at Adrian.
“Exhausting.”
Gerald laughed.
Adrian did not.
Another investor raised his glass.
“Rumor says the marriage is temporary.”
I smiled.
“Rumor is usually cheaper than truth.”
Adrian’s hand settled beneath the table against mine.
The touch was brief.
But everyone noticed.
Later that night, I found him standing on the balcony.
“You lied at dinner.”
He turned.
“About what?”
“You held my hand.”
“That happened.”
“You did not have to.”
“No.”
The ocean moved beneath the moonlight.
“Why did you?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Because you were nervous.”
“I was not.”
“You pressed your thumbnail into your palm.”
I stared at him.
“You notice everything.”
“Not everything.”
“What do you miss?”
“Sometimes I miss the things I am afraid to see.”
My heart skipped.
“Like what?”
He stepped closer.
“Like how much I want this to be real.”
I forgot how to breathe.
He almost kissed me.
A knock interrupted us.
Marcus stood outside.
“Sorry. We have a problem.”
“What kind?” Adrian asked.
“Someone cut the security cameras.”
We followed him downstairs.
The security room was empty.
Three monitors were black.
A fourth displayed a live feed from the dock.
A boat was approaching.
Adrian’s face hardened.
“Who authorized that vessel?”
“No one.”
The hotel lights went out.
Then the emergency alarms screamed.
“Claire!” Adrian shouted.
I heard glass breaking.
Someone grabbed me from behind.
I fought, kicked, and screamed.
A hand covered my mouth.
Then Adrian appeared.
He moved so quickly that the attacker dropped me and ran.
I stumbled into Adrian’s arms.
He wrapped both arms around me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“You’re bleeding.”
I looked at my hand.
A thin cut ran across my palm.
He took my wrist.
His voice shook.
“Claire.”
“I’m fine.”
He pressed a cloth against the cut.
“I thought I lost you.”
The words came out before he could stop them.
I looked up.
He looked away.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“Say it again.”
He exhaled.
“I thought I lost you.”
Then he kissed me.
It was not careful.
It was desperate.
For a few seconds, I forgot the danger, the contract, the dead mothers, the missing key.
Then the alarm stopped.
Marcus entered.
“Everyone is secure.”
Adrian stepped away from me.
“Who was it?”
“We found a boat abandoned near the reef.”
“Any identification?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Yes.”
He handed Adrian a wallet.
Inside was an employee badge from Vale Industries.
The photograph belonged to Adrian’s chief legal counsel.
Adrian stared at it.
“No.”
Marcus looked at him.
“He was on the island.”
Adrian’s expression turned cold.
“He disappeared three hours ago.”
I looked at the black ocean.
Someone inside Adrian’s company had tried to take me.
And the person who had planned it knew enough about us to wait until the night Adrian finally stopped pretending he did not care.
That night, neither of us slept.
At three in the morning, Adrian knocked on my door.
“I need to tell you something.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“Before I met you, I thought I knew exactly what I wanted.”
“And now?”
“Now I am not sure anything I believed about my life was mine.”
I opened the door.
He stood there barefoot, tie gone, sleeves rolled up.
“You can come in,” I said.
He did.
We sat on opposite sides of the room.
“No touching,” I whispered.
“Understood.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Because this is the first time you have invited me into your room.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Do not ruin it.”
“I will try.”
For ten minutes, we talked about ordinary things.
Favorite movies.
Worst vacations.
The food he secretly hated.
The fact that he could not swim.
I laughed.
“You cannot swim?”
“I grew up with indoor pools.”
“That is not an excuse.”
“It is an explanation.”
The laughter faded.
He looked at me.
“I like hearing you laugh.”
I swallowed.
“I am beginning to like hearing you say things that are not about money.”
He smiled.
“Then I am learning.”The retreat schedule changed after the attack.
Adrian canceled every public event.
The board complained.
He ignored them.
At breakfast, I asked, “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Only when my wife is in danger.”
I almost choked on my coffee.
He smiled.
“Too soon?”
May you like
“Much too soon.”
“Noted.” The ocean was calm again by morning, but none of us believed the danger was over. Marcus doubled the guards, and Adrian refused to leave my side. I pretended to complain. Secretly, I was grateful. The island had taught me one thing: fear was easier to carry when I did not carry it alone.
