Prince's Son of Scandal
Not a kidnapping? Damned right it wasn’t.
* * *
“I’m sure she’ll come around,” Xavier told Gunter. He hadn’t lied when he had threatened to hold her down, but he didn’t want to. It wasn’t his habit to manhandle any woman, pregnant or otherwise. “Did she look six months to you?”
Gunter shook his head. “It’s difficult to say. Every woman carries differently. The fact she was able to hide it so long leads me to wonder, but...”
They needed a blood test.
“And this?” Xavier waved to where she had disappeared to use the toilet.
“Extremely common. Although...” He glanced at his watch.
That’s what Xavier had thought. He hadn’t taken his eyes from the closed door and she was still in there. He didn’t want to be indelicate, but he moved to knock.
Silence.
Fainted? His heart swerved.
“Trella.” He tried the handle, found it locked and rattled it. “She wouldn’t have—” The window dropped about thirty-two feet to the ground. That’s why he hadn’t bothered assigning someone to watch that side of the chalet.
“I’ll send someone to check.” Gunter hurried away, moving through the kitchen as Inga appeared with keys and a concerned expression.
Xavier gave the key a hard twist and walked into an empty powder room. A fresh breeze came through the open window. He glanced out to see Gunter below, holding Trella’s clutch, a grim expression on his face as he tracked the distance to the nearest balcony.
At least she wasn’t lying in the dirt below. Tramping through the alps in trendy heels wasn’t much better. Damn it, this woman was turning into a nightmare.
“Alert security,” he told Inga, and he strode outside to join the search.
* * *
Crammed beneath the sink was a little too much like the horrid cellar she’d been locked in during her first kidnapping. The shelf had easily moved to the bottom of the vanity, making room for her to curl herself on top of it, but she’d had to cover herself with the towels and was overheating.
Panicking.
No. One minute at a time. Uno naranjo, dos naranjos... She counted the seconds, counted the oranges, a scent she always associated with family since they had a grove of them at Sus Brazos. She would get through this. It was another test of her ability to move on from her past.
She did her breathing exercises while she listened for footsteps. When she was confident everyone had moved outside, she carefully opened the cupboard door and groped her way out of the small space, thankful for her yoga practice.
Carrying her shoes, she paused at the door. There were security cameras. She had noted one in the foyer as they’d entered. Someone would be watching the screens. She had to move fast, but—thank you, Killian—she had what amounted to an SOS flare in her phone. It was supposed to be for signaling help, but she hoped it could have another use.
She took the device from her bra, turned on the blinding white light, and walked into the hall, aiming the beam directly at the first camera she came to. It sat like a brilliant spotlight on the dark orb. She prayed it blinded the lens as she hurried through the house to the garage.
There was no one in the kitchen and keys hung neatly on the hook beside the door. She tucked her phone back into her bra and took all the keys, deducing from a keychain which one belonged to the top-down cobalt blue Audi.
Outside the garage doors, she heard footsteps jogging across gravel.
Her entire body trembled, but she fought to keep a focused mind. She wasn’t helpless. She would get away.
She set all the keys on the passenger seat and climbed behind the wheel of the Audi, then hit the button on the visor to open the garage door, ready to start the car as soon as the door climbed high enough.
There was a click, the hum of a motor and a rattle of effort, but the door didn’t budge. She jabbed her finger onto the button again, glancing at the jumble of keys. Should she take a different car?
The door to the interior of the chalet opened and Xavier came into the shadowed garage.
Nooooo! She jabbed again and again at the stupid button, then started the car with a roar of its high-performance engine.
“The house is locked down. Don’t try to drive through the door. It’s reinforced. You’ll hurt yourself. And my car.” He moved past the other three vehicles with smooth steps, pausing beside her to lean in and turn off the engine, pocketing the key. “But that was a very good try. I’m impressed.”
She gripped the steering wheel, staring straight ahead, concentrating on not revealing the tears gathering hotly behind her eyes.
“Come back into the house.”
“No.”
“We’ll talk here then.” He moved to flick a switch on the wall. A fan came to life with a low drone, quickly sucking away the lingering exhaust.