Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Oscar shakes his head.
Before I can say another word, Melanie catches up, lips curled in a false smile. She’s determined to milk the moment—like an arsonist returning to watch her own flames devour the place.
“Melanie,” Oscar says stiffly.
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Kellan,” Melanie says, seamlessly picking up where we left off. “Makayla thought she was special, but she’s not. No big deal—everyone learns that lesson eventually.”
“Makayla is special!” I shout before I can stop myself.
The last thing I want is Melanie sensing how deep my feelings run; she’d only weaponize them. But damn, she drags my reckless side to the surface.
“Aw,” Melanie croons, clasping her hands together to mock me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I guess things have changed a lot. Maybe now you’ll consider paying me what you owe me.”
“How much are we talking?” Oscar asks.
I shake my head and let the silence answer. Oscar knows me better than anyone—he also knows I won’t pay another cent to keep this monster quiet.
“We’re not paying anything, Oscar,” I cut Melanie off before she can whip out a figure.
Alex jogs up, clearly empty-handed. I step aside so he can see Melanie lurking behind me. He skids to a stop, surprise curdling into contempt.
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Alex grumbles.
“She was just leaving,” I say pointedly.
“You guys are no fun.” Melanie saunters up to Oscar and loops her arms around his neck.
She pulls him in, whispers something, then breaks away with a throaty laugh. A finger wag at all three of us, and she strolls back into the spa like she owns it. On anyone else that swagger might be impressive—on Melanie, it’s just more proof of her bottomless entitlement.
“What did she tell you?” I ask Oscar.
“She named a dollar amount,” he says. “Exactly what she wants.”
“No, you don’t get it—she already reached Makayla,” I say. “She wouldn’t tell me what she said, but Makayla knows.”
Oscar blows out a harsh breath. “Shit,” he mutters, lowering his gaze. “She was asking for too much, anyway…”
“And she would’ve kept asking,” Alex says, slowly shaking his head. “Fuck. What do we do now?”
I give them a dark, tired look. “Kay’s nowhere to be found, huh?”
They both shake their heads.
“She was at the spa not long ago; Melanie cornered her here,” I reply.
“Then things really went sideways,” Alex says, pressing his forehead into his palm. “We still need to find Kay, though. Talk to her. Explain. Hell, I’ll show her a copy of the settlement, if that’s what it takes. Screw the non-disclosure agreement...”
“Where else can we search?” I demand, throwing my hands up in frustration.
“There’s got to be somewhere we haven’t checked,” Alex says. “She didn’t just vanish into thin air.”
“We should ask at the front desk,” Oscar says. “If she panicked, she might’ve gone straight to reception to check out of our suite. That’s what I’d do after hearing whatever lie Melanie spun.”
“She’s not picking up either,” Alex adds, frowning. “You’d think she’d at least confront us—give us a chance to explain.”
Oscar gives a helpless shrug. “Depends on how polished Melanie’s lie was. We all know she’s a pro at lying, manipulating—twisting the truth.”
Of all the honest mistakes we’ve made, this is the worst. Bitterness and anger flood me as I search for our next move.
It doesn’t take much to ruin something good.
Melanie spotted an opening and played her hand to the hilt. While we scramble to contain the fallout, retaliation will have to wait. But she will pay—one way or another.
First, we have to find Makayla.
27
ALEX
Oscar all but sprints down the hallway. The three of us cram into the elevator, descending to the lobby in taut silence. This is our last, best shot at finding the woman we’ve fallen for before she vanishes for good.
As the elevator doors slide open, Kellan murmurs, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Don’t,” I say sharply. “Just… don’t.”
A young man with a neatly trimmed mustache and slicked-back hair greets us from behind the reception desk. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. How may I help you?”
“We’re looking for a guest,” Oscar says. “Makayla Dwyer. We share a suite, but we can’t find her, and she isn’t answering her phone.”
“Truth be told, we’re worried something’s happened,” I add—a harmless lie if it gets us answers. “She’s not exactly an experienced skier, if you know what I mean.”
“Ah, I see. Of course,” he says, moving to his computer and typing in her name. Before he can reach for the house phone, he shakes his head. “It looks like she checked out a few minutes ago.”
“She… checked out?” I ask, my stomach dropping.
“When was that?” Kellan demands.
“She’s probably headed to the airport,” Oscar says.
“Madam did request a car to the airport,” the clerk replies. “We arranged transportation to Stockholm at 12:35 p.m.”
And just like that, the universe proves me wrong—again. I step back, shaking my head as I try to process.