Illicit Temptation (Astoria Royals #3)

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Trace

T he sun is just now peeking through the windows when I wake up to find Shea pacing in front of the bed. She’s scrolling on her phone and wearing a robe she snagged from the bathroom.

Swinging my feet onto the floor, toes sinking into the plush carpet, I say, “What’s wrong, love?”

We’ve gone completely off the cyber radar. If anyone was looking for us, our phones would have rung. Mine especially. It’s cold and quiet. No missed calls or texts.

“I have a client who works for Prada here in the city. I’m hoping she can help me out with a dress or a suit and a pair of shoes. It’s early and she has young kids, so I’m looking for her number to send her a text.” Shea sighs and puts down the phone for a minute. “I didn’t think this through when I said yes to coming here. I can’t wear that bridesmaid dress to the interview with Mrs. Lagerfeld.”

Smiling, I push the covers away to get out of bed. I grip her phone, kiss the hand holding it, and throw it on the bed. “Come with me.”

I lead her to a walk-in closet. The primary bedroom has two. Mine is furnished with dark woods and stainless-steel finishes.

Shea’s jaw drops when I hit the light switch and the overhead crystal chandelier in the other closet reveals wall-to-wall white built-ins with gold finishes. Each are filled with every imaginable item of clothing a woman could want.

Covering her mouth, she says, “Whose are these? Some old girlfriend?”

I stop her tantrum with my lips, and my hands grab her ass. “I can’t have a girlfriend. I have a wife. You. You, you crazy, wonderful, wife. These clothes are brand new and all for you. I never lied to you. I’ve not been with anyone but you since our wedding night.”

“How,” she whimpers. “How are these for me?”

“The lawyer who completed the transaction to make this place mine asked me if I wanted someone to refurnish it.” Kai Powers has come in handy.

“Where did the clothes come from?”

“The designer who refurnished it asked me if I needed to fill the closets. Having a ton of money, I said sure. And when they asked about the ladies’ closet, I gave them your sizes.”

She frowns. “How do you know my size?”

“I went into your closet at home.” I spin her around. “I can’t guarantee you’ll love everything. But I’m sure there’s something you can wear to meet Mrs. Lagerfeld.”

Shea steps inside. “Thank you. These are actually very nice designers.” Spinning back, she chokes up. “God! You’re so good to me.”

I hug her. “Whatever the hell I’m doing is working, I guess. I’m figuring it all out as I go, Shea.”

She picks out a blue blazer, cream pants, and a black lace tank underneath. From a wall of shoes, she picks out black stilettos with gold-tipped heels that make her almost as tall as me.

There isn’t anything but canned foods in my apartment, so we grab coffee and a small bite to eat in the lobby café. Outside, I hail a cab and bring Shea to Lagerfeld Events’ main office on Lexington Ave.

Swallowing nervously, she says, “I can’t pitch myself as a prospective owner with a bodyguard hovering. It could hurt my chances.”

I bristle at first, but I’ll have to figure out a protection plan for her once she’s formally mine and we live here, even if it’s just part-time.

Nodding, I kiss her on the forehead and say, “I’ll be right here in front of the building.”

“It’s a pretty day. Take a walk. Do some window shopping.”

I smile and consider looking for engagement rings. Christ, we got this backward. “Good luck, love.”

She chuckles. “Look at us. Like a real married couple.”

My throat tightens. “Imagine that.”

With one more hug, she says, “Thank you.”

But she doesn’t kiss me. And I don’t claim her mouth. Looking great and confident, she slips into the pre-war building with carved molding trim and fucking gargoyles on the roof.

I forgo the long walk, planting myself in a coffee shop across the street to check in with Griffin about his decision to storm that Morningside building to find Ava. I decide against the engagement ring until I do more research to make sure I’m not buying a filthy Crest diamond.

Two hours later, I get a text from Shea with a dancing bear GIF that she nailed the appointment.

I wrap up my call and hoof it across the street to pick her up. Outside the building, I nod to the doorman who doesn’t ask me any questions. After looking up the floor, I take the elevator up right into Lagerfeld Events’ reception area. Something I wasn’t expecting. A woman sits behind a long counter, the company logo over her head.

“Can I help you?” she asks, her jaw quivering at my height and dark shades.

“I’m here to pick up Shea O’Rourke. She’s meeting with Mrs. Lagerfeld.”

She points over my shoulder. “Oh, you just missed her.”

I spin around and see a second elevator bank. For fuck’s sake.

“Thank you.” I hop back into the elevator I took up here since the doors remained open.

I check Shea’s tracker on her phone, but it’s not finding her. What the hell?

Panicking, I quickly consider my choices if she isn’t in the lobby.

Call Balor, who will find her in a matter of seconds using a stronger satellite. But he and Ella just got married yesterday.

I could call Lachlan, but that will end up with my head being ripped from my body. Guards are punished severely, but she’s thirty-seven, not eighteen. They won’t overlook it as an act of a rebellious youth. They give her the freedom she has because she’s smart.

This will get her into as much trouble as me.

Fuck, I won’t risk what we have. She’s my wife, I’ll fucking find her. Even if I have to do it the old-fashioned way. She couldn’t have gone far if she just left.

In the lobby, the tracking dot comes back to life, and I nearly shit myself in relief. I rush outside, following it, figuring the cement walls and solid steel construction of the old elevator in an even older building blocked the signal.

Looking in the direction the dot went, my heart stops.

Shea is being forced into a car.