The security guard at the main entrance took one look at her and his expression hardened. "Invitation?"
Kristy's heart sank. "I'm meeting someone inside."
"Name?"
She froze, her mind blank. He just shook his head, his gaze dismissive, and turned to the next guest. Defeated, she retreated from the opulent lobby and circled around to the hotel's back alley.
The air here was thick with the smell of garbage and exhaust fumes. A group of drivers in black uniforms were smoking and talking near a service entrance.
She moved closer, staying in the shadows, and listened.
"Mr. Sharpe is getting weirder," one of them said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "They say he won't live past thirty, some rare genetic disease."
Another driver snorted. "Yeah, heard he's always in a wheelchair. Temperamental as hell. Pity his driver, Leo. That guy has it tough."
Leo. Fount Sharpe's driver. Maybe a direct line to him.
Just then, a sleek Bentley pulled into the alley. The back door opened and Caden stepped out, followed by Felice. They were heading for a private VIP entrance.
Kristy's blood turned to ice. She ducked into a dark, recessed doorway, pressing herself against a pile of discarded laundry bins. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
A strange, sweet fragrance filled the small space, thick and cloying. She barely noticed the scent, her entire focus on avoiding being seen.
After Caden and Felice disappeared inside, Kristy stumbled out of the alcove. A wave of dizziness washed over her. Her body felt strangely hot, her heart racing as her vision blurred at the edges. Only then did she realize she had inhaled some kind of aphrodisiac.
She needed to get out of there. Now.
She staggered towards the mouth of the alley, right into the path of a tall, solid figure. She couldn't make out his face, only the clean, simple scent of soap. Instinct took over. She grabbed onto his arm, her legs giving way.
"Help... me..."
Fount Sharpe had just stepped out of his private exit for a moment of quiet. He hadn't expected to find a woman collapsing into his arms.
He looked down. The face was flushed, the eyes unfocused but familiar. Kristy Hill. The girl from that messy affair three years ago.
His first instinct was to push her away. But then he saw the sheer panic in her eyes and caught the faint, sweet scent of the drug in the air. He recognized it. It was connected to another matter he was investigating.
"Please... take me away from here..." she mumbled, her consciousness fading fast.
A complex, calculating look passed through Fount's eyes. He shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her, then lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
He headed for a nondescript, used Ford parked among the other drivers' cars. It belonged to his driver, Leo Price. He pulled a spare key from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Through a haze, Kristy saw the humble logo on the steering wheel. She saw the man's simple, dark clothing-a uniform. Her drug-addled mind made the connection. This was him. This was Leo.
He drove away from the glittering lights of Manhattan, not towards a hospital, but across the bridge to a simple, anonymous apartment building in Queens. It was one of his many private, secure residences.
The rest of the night was a fever dream, a chaotic blur of sensations fueled by the drug. She remembered only heat, and a man's low, controlled breathing.
The next morning, she woke to a sliver of sunlight cutting through the blinds. Her head throbbed. Fragments of the night before crashed into her mind.
A man was asleep in the bed beside her, his back to her. He was tall, with broad shoulders that strained the fabric of his t-shirt.
Her sudden movement woke him. He rolled over.
He had a strikingly handsome face, with sharp, defined features and a strong jaw. His eyes were dark and deep, watching her with a calm, unnerving intensity.
"You!" she gasped, clutching the sheet to her chest. "Who are you? What did you do to me?"
His expression didn't change. His voice was a low, steady rumble. "You begged me to help you."
He sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist. "My name is Leo Price. I'm Mr. Sharpe's driver."
Kristy's mind went blank. Her grand plan to get to Fount Sharpe had ended with her sleeping with his driver.
He watched the wave of despair and regret wash over her face. He swung his legs out of bed and started to pull on a shirt. As he fastened the cuffs, he spoke without looking at her, dropping the words into the silent room like stones.
"I'll take responsibility."
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
He finally turned to face her, his gaze direct. "You need a place to stay, a legal identity that isn't just a parolee. I need a wife to deal with some personal issues."
He held her gaze.
"Marry me."
