The Awakening Aidan - By Abby Niles Page 0,32
your weaknesses and I used them against you.”
“I don’t have any weaknesses!”
“But you do.” He lowered his phone and looked at her. “Shifters in pain get to you even if you don’t want them to. Liam being a prime example. You didn’t have to help that first night, but you did. Besides, you’ve proven you’d go back on a vow if given the right amount of money.”
She recoiled from his words, hating the way it made her sound. “I-is that how you think of me? As someone who can be bought?”
His face softened for a fraction of a second before the hardness returned. “You weren’t bought. You needed the money. I knew this and I used your circumstances against you for my gain. I don’t apologize for that. I got what I wanted.”
“From this moment forward, getting me on this plane will be all you ever get,” she spat. “And don’t worry, you will get your bribe money back. I don’t want anything of yours and I don’t want anything to do with you.”
She closed her eyes, realizing she’d already split the money with Pam. She couldn’t take that back from her, not when she knew how badly her friend needed it. Jaylin would repay it, out of her own pocket. Somehow.
“Don’t worry about the money. Let’s just call it an investment in my future. Besides, I’d have never made my fortune if I caved every time someone threw an obstacle in my way.” Aidan leaned forward. “Let me be extremely clear, no previous takeover will have given me the wealth this one will. Failure is not an option.”
His words hit her right in the chest, squeezing her heart. He was so dead serious, she worried he might actually be able to change her mind, make her forget everything she’d witnessed. Make her believe she could be happy—until he died, and she was left with nothing.
She couldn’t chance it. She’d have to find a way to leave. He might believe he’d closed every avenue of escape, but no one was that good. There had to be a loophole somewhere. If there was, she was going to find it.
…
He was that good.
Six hours later, Jaylin watched the helicopter take off from the private tarmac, leaving her stranded. She sighed. They weren’t in Cancun. She didn’t even know where “here” was. It was tropical. A small island. With one luxurious thatched-roof house sitting before a sandy white beach and turquoise waters. She’d be in awe, if she weren’t so pissed off. She grabbed her bag and stalked toward a gravel path that led to the house from the tarmac. Her heels clicked on the asphalt.
Even when they’d switched to the helicopter, she hadn’t been able to escape. As her hair whipped around from the spinning blades, Aidan had gripped her upper arm and ushered her across the tarmac straight into the aircraft. The transition had lasted one minute max. She’d felt like some important person under CIA protection.
Aidan hadn’t said a word to her since they’d taken off, seemingly indifferent to her anger, which only made her angrier. As she wobbled down the path, her heels sinking awkwardly into the loose rock, she dragged her bag behind her. He didn’t offer to help like the old Aidan might have, and she refused to ask. When she reached the clearing, she climbed a long, stone staircase that led to a wraparound sundeck made of the same light stone. Then she hurried to the door and grabbed the handle, wanting to get as far away from him as possible. Of course, the damn thing was locked.
Why? There wasn’t another blasted soul on the godforsaken island to rob it.
Aidan dug in his pocket and withdrew a set of keys. Without a word, he unlocked the door. She shoved past him and into the house. She blinked, then set her face to not show any reaction. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d impressed her. But, damn it, she was impressed. The door led into a huge gourmet kitchen with cherry cabinets and granite countertops. The walls were painted a calming beige—which did absolutely nothing to calm her shredded nerves.
Keep walking. Don’t stop to gawk.
She opened the first door she encountered, not giving two wits if it was a closet. She slammed the door behind her, then gasped.
It wasn’t a closet.
A king-size bed with a white plush bedspread surrounded by the same-colored mosquito netting sat in the middle of the room against the far