Suddenly His - Jessa Kane Page 0,46

to live here, there’s a real possibility she’ll be coming here to visit. And it’s not like she’s dangerous or something, just because she was deceptive.

“I won’t stay long, Maisy. Please? Without your contribution from last week and no money coming in from Mr. Lincoln, I’m flat broke.”

It occurs to me that I’m the proud new owner of two million bucks.

“Oh, I have an idea. I can transfer you some funds—”

“Then I’d have to withdraw that big amount from the bank.” She makes a gagging sound. “I’d rather not. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” I say weakly, the phone dropping to my side when it goes dead.

I didn’t even get a chance to tell her I’m pregnant.

Because it didn’t feel right.

Something didn’t feel right.

Struggling against the urge to call Jack, possibly interrupting an important meeting, I pace the room for fifteen minutes, then pick up the envelope of money and airline ticket to Belize. I try to ignore the churning sensation in my stomach when I hear the familiar sound of her car pulling up out front. There doesn’t seem to be anyone downstairs in the house, not Bonnie or Charles. It’s so silent.

I clutch the envelope to my chest, shifting in front of the door a moment before I open it. Just a few inches. And there’s my mother smiling back at me.

All at once, I feel utterly ridiculous.

This is my mother, the woman who raised me. I’ve lived with her for eighteen years. We’ve had our ups and downs but there is no reason to feel so nervous. Maybe it’s the pregnancy already causing my stomach to act up?

I push the door open wider and step outside.

Her smile disappears.

There’s a second car. One I didn’t see before. A silver Rolls Royce parked farther down the driveway, the engine still running.

Something cold presses to the side of my head. “Don’t make a sound,” says a man’s familiar voice.

Oh God. My mother…she’s not alone. There’s a tall imposing figure that was standing just out of view. Without turning my head, I swing my eyes in that direction. And I find Winston Creed smiling at me, smug and collected. Well used to aiming guns.

“Why…what do you want?” I whisper, my entire body beginning to tremble. “Mom, why are you with him?”

To her credit—I guess?—my mother does seem kind of sheepish. But not sheepish enough, apparently, since she has no issue grabbing the money and plane ticket out of my hands, her mouth moving as she flips through the bills, counting it. “I’m sorry, Maisy. He offered me money if I could bring you to him. He’s been camped outside the apartment for days, but you never showed. So when you called, I had to take the opportunity.”

My mind struggles to play catch up. “I…I don’t understand,” I say, trying my best to remain calm. “What do you want with me, Mr. Creed?”

I hear rather than see him lick his lips. “The men are demanding a repeat performance. They’re willing to pay through the nose for a chance to be your leading man this time. Seven figures a pop.” My skin crawls and I know he’s checking me out, right there in front of my mother. My mother who just sold me out. “You made quite an impression, little lady.”

“What’s he talking about, Maisy?” my mother asks, fanning herself with the plane ticket.

Indignation clogs my vocal passages, making my words sound strangled. “You brought him here without even knowing what he wanted from me?”

“He offered a lot of money,” my mother explains, though she looks nervous now. “What does he mean…repeat performance?”

I close my eyes. “I accidentally ended up at one of his sex parties last Friday and…I had no choice to participate. It’s a long story. One I thought was going to end happy.” When I open my eyes, the image of my mother is blurred through an onslaught of tears. “I can’t believe you would do this to me. How can you be so greedy?”

My mother opens her mouth to respond, but Winston interrupts. “Get in the car, Miss Whitaker. The men are so worked up for a taste, they’re willing to break protocol and have a meeting in the middle of a weekday. Hasn’t happened in decades.” He trails the gun down the side of my face. “I plan to test the goods myself once I’ve made my money on it.”

Acid fires up my throat and I almost hurl on the steps.

“You can’t just kidnap me,” I