Gardner didn't ask where she was. He didn't ask what happened. He simply said, "Check your phone," and hung up.
Three minutes later, a text message arrived with a first-class e-ticket to Boston Logan International Airport. A second text followed: I'll be at the end.
Eloise packed her laptop, used her loose change to buy a subway ticket, and rode the train to JFK. She kept her head down, dodging the security cameras, terrified Bronson's men were already swarming the terminals.
She boarded the red-eye flight. As the plane accelerated down the runway and lifted into the air, the sudden G-force made her stomach drop. A sharp ache bloomed in her lower abdomen. She crossed her arms tightly over her stomach, praying the baby would hold on.
The plane landed in Boston at 2:00 AM. A brutal blizzard was burying the city in snow.
Eloise walked out of the terminal, shivering violently in her thin sweater.
A massive, black, armored Cadillac Escalade was idling at the curb. Two men in black suits stepped out into the freezing snow. One of them took her battered suitcase.
"Ms. Mendoza," the other bodyguard said, opening the heavy rear door. "The boss is waiting."
Eloise climbed into the heated leather interior. The moment the door shut, a distinct scent enveloped her. Cedarwood and cold rain. It was a scent she remembered from five years ago. Gardner's scent.
The SUV drove for an hour, leaving the city behind and winding along the dark, icy coastline. Finally, towering wrought-iron gates swung open.
The vehicle pulled up to a sprawling, centuries-old stone mansion. It screamed generational wealth-quiet, imposing, and indestructible.
A bodyguard held a massive black umbrella over her as she walked up the stone steps.
Eloise stepped into the grand foyer. The heat from a roaring fireplace washed over her frozen skin.
Heavy footsteps sounded on the grand oak staircase.
Eloise looked up. Her breath caught in her throat.
Gardner Whitfield walked down the stairs. He wore a dark grey dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the corded muscles of his arms. The boyish indie actor was gone. In his place was a lethal, apex predator of the corporate world. His eyes were dark, sharp, and intensely focused on her.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, towering over her. His gaze swept over her pale, exhausted face, then dropped to her left hand.
He stared at her bare ring finger. A slow, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
He didn't ask if she was okay. He took off his heavy wool overcoat and draped it over her trembling shoulders. The weight of the coat, saturated with his cedarwood scent, grounded her instantly.
Gardner looked down into her eyes, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in her chest.
"Welcome back to the real world, Eloise."
