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The Wedding Rescue, Book Four

By:Alexa Wilder



I’ll be there.

The text I’d just sent glared up at me like an accusation. I was out of time to debate right vs. wrong. I’d set things in motion. Now I had to act. It was two thirty-seven in the morning. I had until three am to get to my house or Steven would send out the video he’d taken of Dylan and me in the hallway at the Delecta, Dylan’s hand up my dress in the act of making me come, complete with my ecstatic moans.

My stomach rolled at the thought of that video on phones and computers across the world. I wouldn’t attract that kind of attention on my own, but Dylan would. He was Dylan Kane. Plenty of people would love to see such a successful, attractive man brought low. More important, his board of directors would not be happy. If this spun out of control, he could lose the business he’d worked so hard for.

I stood, peeling myself off the cold bathroom floor, and looked in the mirror. My eyes were red, my skin pale, and my hair a dark tangle still caught in the pins from my formal up-do. Frantic, I yanked at the pins, and pulled a brush through my hair.

I had to get out of here without being noticed. Severe bedhead was not going to help. No makeup and a ponytail were a start. The gleam of gold at my throat caught my eye. I’d forgotten the jewelry Dylan had bought me. I couldn’t take it with me. My eyes closed in despair, I unfastened the necklace and removed the earrings, setting them on the counter beside the sink. The bracelet was a little trickier, especially with my sight blurred by tears.

I shut off the bathroom light and cracked the door open. Dylan slept on his stomach, head turned to the side, away from the bathroom and closet. Trying to keep absolutely silent, I crept across the carpet and sneaked into the closet. The drawers holding my underwear opened on smooth bearings, making no sound.

I pulled a pair of jeans from a hangar and hoped they fit. They did. With a dressy blouse, I’d fit in with the casino crowd. I didn’t have my purse or my wallet. Ditto on house keys. My phone, with its payment app for some of the local taxis, would get me home. The hidden key beneath my back deck would get me in. That would have to be good enough.

I needed to know how much time I had left, but I wasn’t foolish enough to turn on my phone in the dark room. It was going to be enough of a challenge to get out without Dylan hearing. I felt for a pair of shoes on the closet floor, hoping I grabbed something I could walk in. Still in my bare feet, I sneaked out of the bedroom, every nerve alert for the sound of Dylan moving. All I heard were his quiet breaths.

My heart hurt at what I was doing. He’d hate me for this. I knew it. But I wouldn’t let Steven ruin him. Steven had done enough to me. I couldn’t allow his ugliness to take anything away from Dylan. As hard as Dylan worked, and as much as he loved his company, he didn’t deserve to have Steven jeopardize it all.

At the door to the penthouse, I paused. Dylan used a pass-card to access the penthouse floor. Would I need it to leave? I guessed I’d find out soon enough. The heavy front door was too well built to creak, but I was careful with the handle, afraid it would click into place loudly enough to wake Dylan. I waited until I was in the elevator, moving to the first floor without needing the key, before I put on my shoes. I’d grabbed high heeled sandals. Not the best match for my jeans and blouse, but they’d do.

Security wasn’t watching me as far as I knew. I wasn’t a prisoner at the Delecta despite Dylan commandeering my keys and purse. But he might pull up the security cameras to see where I went when I left. I thought about catching a cab from a different casino, but Dylan had my driver’s license. He wouldn’t have to work very hard to find me. And I was running out of time to meet Steven. I made my way to the front doors and pulled up the app on my phone to pay for the taxi. Fortunately, one of the taxis that accepted electronic payments was waiting for a passenger. I slid into the back and gave him my address, checking the time. Seven minutes.

I’m on my way, I typed. A few seconds later my phone pinged with a reply.

I said not to be late. My head was twisted with fear and my heart heavy at the decision I’d made. But now that I was committed to leaving, anger was taking the front seat. I’d moved as quickly as I could. Why did Steven have to be such an asshole about it? Hadn’t he taken enough from me? Now he was getting ready to take more and he couldn’t give me an extra five minutes.

I reminded myself that losing my temper would not help. Steven had that video of Dylan and me. He was probably looking for an excuse to use it. Pissing him off wouldn’t help me. The whole point of leaving Dylan was to protect him from Steven. If I couldn’t control myself, not only would I be losing Dylan, Dylan might lose his company.