Chapter 3 3

Blinding morning sunlight sliced through the gap in the heavy blackout curtains.

Abraham Bush opened his eyes. There was no confusion. Only the cold, calculated stare of an apex predator waking up.

He pushed himself up on one arm. A dull headache pounded behind his eyes, and his muscles felt unnaturally tight. He looked down at his bare chest. Deep, angry red scratch marks tracked across his skin.

The fragmented memories of last night crashed into his brain.

He threw the heavy duvet back. His eyes instantly locked onto a dark, dried smear of blood on the pristine white sheets.

His pupils dilated. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his bare feet sinking into the carpet. The room was empty, but the air was thick with her. It was a cheap, floral perfume mixed with the undeniable scent of salt and fear.

He walked toward the entryway. Near a toppled floor vase, a small, white object caught the light.

Abraham bent down and picked it up. It was a cheap pearl earring. He rolled his thumb slowly over his index knuckle, trapping the pearl in his palm. A dark, dangerous smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

He walked into the marble bathroom and turned the shower handle all the way to cold.

The freezing water hit his broad shoulders, washing away the lingering heat of the drug. By the time he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, his mind was a steel trap again.

The doorbell chimed.

His executive assistant, Avery Shaw, stood in the hallway holding a garment bag.

Avery stepped inside. His sharp eyes immediately caught the shattered vase, the smell of sex, and the blood on the bed. Avery's face remained perfectly blank.

"Sir," Avery said, keeping his eyes on the wall. "Hotel security reported an anomaly. The cameras on this floor were hit with a localized signal jammer for exactly ten minutes last night."

Abraham pulled a crisp white shirt from the garment bag. He shoved his arms into the sleeves.

"Pull the street cameras," Abraham ordered, his voice like grinding stones. "Every traffic light, every ATM within a five-mile radius. Find the woman who ran out of this building."

The suite door suddenly swung open.

Gwendolyn Vasquez rushed in, flanked by two massive bodyguards. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless.

She gasped when she saw Abraham. She put a trembling hand over her mouth and ran toward him, throwing her arms out to hug his waist.

Abraham took a smooth half-step back.

Gwendolyn stumbled, her hands grasping empty air. She caught her balance, her face flushing with embarrassment. The bodyguards quickly backed out of the room and shut the door.

"Abraham," Gwendolyn cried, her voice trembling perfectly. "I was so worried. I got so drunk last night, someone took me to the wrong room. I woke up alone."

Abraham slowly buttoned his cuffs. He didn't say a word. He just stared at her. The crushing, suffocating weight of his gaze made Gwendolyn's breath hitch.

He walked over to the wet bar. He picked up the crystal whiskey glass from last night. A tiny amount of amber liquid remained at the bottom.

He swirled the glass. He let out a low, terrifying laugh.

He slammed the glass down on the marble counter. The crystal shattered into a hundred pieces. Gwendolyn jumped, letting out a real scream this time.

"Rohypnol," Abraham said softly. "You put it in my drink."

Gwendolyn's face turned the color of chalk. She touched her perfect manicured nails, a nervous tell she could never hide.

"How dare you!" she yelled, trying to use her Vasquez family pride as a shield. "You think I would drug my own fiancé?"

Abraham closed the distance between them in two massive strides. He backed her into the wall.

"You thought you could force the marriage," he whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "You thought you could trap me with a pregnancy."

Gwendolyn's defensive wall crumbled. Tears ruined her mascara. "You never touch me! We've been engaged for a year and you look at me like I'm a piece of furniture! I just wanted to be your real wife!"

Disgust flashed in Abraham's dark eyes.

"This engagement is a business merger," he stated coldly. "If you ever try a pathetic stunt like this again, I will dismantle the Vasquez empire piece by piece."

Gwendolyn bit her lip so hard it bled. She looked away, humiliated.

Her eyes landed on the bed. She saw the dark red bloodstain on the sheets.

Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. The drug had worked. But she wasn't the one in his bed. Some random bitch had walked in and taken the one thing Gwendolyn had been begging for. Toxic, burning jealousy clawed at her throat.

Abraham saw where she was looking. He stepped sideways, blocking her view of the bed with his massive frame.

"Avery," Abraham said without looking away from her. "Escort my fiancée out."

Avery stepped forward, gesturing to the door. Gwendolyn practically ran out of the room.

Standing in the hallway, Gwendolyn dug her nails so hard into her palms that the skin broke. She was going to find the bitch who stole her night. And she was going to destroy her.

Inside the room, Abraham walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. He looked down at the Manhattan traffic, rolling the pearl earring between his fingers.

Avery walked back in. He handed Abraham a tablet.

"Sir, the morning gossip alerts. There's a scandal trending."

Abraham glanced at the screen. The headline read: Aspiring Actress Caught in Hotel Sex Trade.

He didn't care about Hollywood trash. He tossed the tablet onto the sofa, completely missing the blurry photo of Christal's back.

He looked at Avery. "Use every resource we have. Tear Manhattan apart if you have to. Find her."

Miles away, sitting in the back of a stretch limo, Gwendolyn's phone rang. It was her mother.

"Darling," her mother said. "I'm having the chef make those European pastries you loved so much as a little girl."

Gwendolyn touched her nails again. A flash of panic crossed her face. "I hate those pastries, Mother. I've always hated them. Stop making them."

She hung up, her chest heaving. She stared out the window, terrified of the secret she carried.