Even as the bodyguards dragged me out and slammed the car door, his expression remained stone.
"Forgive me, Madam," the bodyguard muttered.
Just before he confiscated my phone, a text message flashed on the screen.
Alistair, I'm back.
For the next week, Victor took Georgia to Western Europe, but Grace's parting words circled his mind like vultures.
He felt irritable, constantly on edge. Yet whenever he thought of Grace, dark satisfaction mingled with his anger. She needed to be humbled.
When they were young, she was the heiress bestowing charity on him, the poor boy. Now the tables had turned. Time she tasted what it felt like to survive on someone else's mercy.
I'll bring her back once Georgia gives birth, he told himself. Those arrogant habits need breaking.
He maintained this delusion until the call came.
"Mr. Weston... it's Ms. Sullivan. She escaped. She's missing."
