Two Can Play (Celeste and Dominic) novel Chapter 362

SCARLETT

I ran until my lungs caught fire and my heels screamed against the polished floor, and when the glass doors of the Beaumont finally rose out of the dark in front of me, I stopped dead with one hand braced against the frame, my chest heaving, my ears ringing with the rush of blood through my skull.

Jasmine and Maya caught up a heartbeat later, both of them pale and breathless, their eyes wide in the low golden light of the lobby, and I let out a long shaky sigh, trying to call my mind back from the edge, but my heart was still racing like a caged thing.

Julian's two guards were out there somewhere, parked in the dark beyond the hotel's glow, waiting to escort Tasha and me back to their master like cargo. I had no phone, no laptop, nothing but my clothes and the memory of Julian's body crumpled on his living room floor, and the hundred million dollars sitting in an account he knew nothing about, and the best way off this street ran straight through those two men.

"Wait here," I told Jasmine and Maya, keeping my voice low and steady. "At the door. Do not move, do not talk to anyone, and the second you hear three honks, you run out to the car I'll be driving and you get in. No questions, no hesitation."

Jasmine's jaw was set, her eyes hard and watchful. "What are you going to do?"

"Borrow a car." I let the smile come, thin and sharp. "And lie to a couple of men who are about to have a very bad night."

I stepped out of the hotel before either of them could argue.

The night air hit me like a wall, cool and damp, carrying the faint mineral bite of the sea, and I walked toward the black sedan parked under the awning at the curb with the unhurried stride of a woman who had every right to be exactly where she was.

"That's strange," he muttered, staring at the screen. "Julian always answers."

"Maybe he's busy." I kept my voice light, almost playful. "Maybe he's got his hands full."

He ignored me, scrolling through his contacts, and pressed another number. That one rang too, long and hollow, and the silence that followed seemed to unsettle him more than the ringing had. "Something's wrong. I have to call the rest of the team, find out what is going on."

I took a slow look around the street while he dialed again. No one was watching. The few people within sight had their backs turned or their heads buried in their phones, and the traffic had thinned to the occasional sweep of headlights that washed over us and moved on. The second guard was leaning against the front fender with his arms crossed, watching me with the flat dead-eyed patience of a man paid to stand exactly where he was and do exactly nothing.