Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
And then all thought was gone. The hoard surrounded us and the car before breaking off into two groups. Vice had told me they would next break into four, and then eight, and then split again and again until there was no one to follow, and they all went home.
I said a silent thanks to all their wives and girlfriends for burning the midnight oil. For risking their men. For saving us.
Because there was no way in hell my father’s men could find us now.
It was a very long night. We didn’t speak or stop. I held on tight and let my mind wander. I didn’t know what was coming next, but I knew we had backup. I knew I had Vice.
By the time we reached our destination, we were with only a handful of riders. Our escorts all turned in unison to a gently sweeping driveway that led up into the hills. It was well manicured, fancy, and discrete. A sign read ‘Seawell Hotel’.
When we reached the top of the drive, it was morning. The sun was bright but not overly so. I was stunned by the beauty I saw.
The hotel sat on the top of a cliff overlooking the ocean. It was an older prewar building, gorgeously preserved, with a wraparound porch on all three levels, and several smaller cottages scattered in either direction. Everything was so well maintained, it looked like a grand estate in Europe, other than the shingles and white trim, which were distinctly American. The gardens were stunning, and there were little gazebos and seating areas as far as the eye could see. I could only imagine how the rest of the place looked.
“Welcome, I assume you are here for the wedding,” someone said as we climbed off the bike.
“Wedding?” I asked, assuming Vice would say no. He didn’t.
Vice gave an odd look to the uniformed attendant and turned to me. He gave me a tender little smile.
“Where are we, Vice?”
“The Seawell Hotel.”
“I know that, but why? This couldn’t possibly be our next safe house.”
“It’s a surprise,” he said, removing my helmet, gently tucking my hair behind my ears.
“I don’t like surprises.”
“I know,” he countered simply, offering no other explanation. As if he could know me that well already. But perhaps, I mused to myself, too exhausted to think clearly, perhaps he did…
Vice put his hand behind my lower back and led me forward. All the other bikers hung back. I looked over my shoulders at them.
“I want to thank them.”
“Later.”
He took my backpack from me as we walked through the lobby, bypassing the check in. The other bikers were nowhere to be seen. We followed the attendant up a grand, sweeping staircase to the second floor, then a slightly less grand staircase to the third.
“It’s a good thing we have been training,” I joked. Vice gave me a tight smile. The attendant used a key to unlock a door and then gestured into the room.
I ‘oo’d’ aloud at the stunning view. I could see the ocean through mullioned glass windows from the moment I walked into the room. The suite had a comfortably and elegantly furnished living room, and presumably a bedroom. But I had eyes only for the view.
“Sir, Madame. The bridal suite.”
I stopped in my tracks, slowing turning to see Vice hand the attendant some cash and usher him none too gently through the door. He shut it, locked it, then looked at me sheepishly.
“Bridal suite?”
He shrugged.
“It was the nicest.”
I gave him a suspicious look then shrugged. I walked through the suite, drawn again to the windows, which continued into the bedroom, with a massive California King overlooking the ocean. There was a small terrace here, with a larger one in the living room. The doors and windows were open, letting in the sea air.
Even the bathroom had a view, complete with an oversized clawfoot tub overlooking the ocean.
It even had a chandelier.
It was beautiful.
As was the enormous gift basket and oversized bottle of Champagne sitting in a bucket of ice I found when I walked back to the living room.
I lifted up the card and read it.
‘Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials!’ was the chirpy text.
I turned to stare at the man who was watching me warily, like I was a dog that might bite. And if I was honest, I felt that way too!
“What the hell is going on here, Vice?”
“We are getting married. Tomorrow,” he said. He cleared his throat. “If you will have me,” he added.
“Married? We just met?”
“None the less, it is happening.”
“I don’t even know your real name!”
He smiled ruefully and stepped closer.
“Believe it or not, it’s Smith.”
I stared at him blankly.
“What?”
“My last name is Smith. Hope that is alright with you.”
I blinked.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s good,” he said, sliding his hands up my forearms. His touch was soothing. But I didn’t want to be soothed. I wanted to be mad!