Chapter 539

Nathan

A cold gust of wind blew across the tarmac as I strode toward Dan’s private jet, my suitcase swinging at my side. I could see Dan’s tall and imposing form up ahead, waiting.

He had been waiting all morning; or so he had said.

“Nathan,” he said, stretching his arms out to the sides as I approached. “How kind of you to finally show.”

I managed a stiff smile. “Apologies for the delay,” I said as a nearby attendant took my bag. “Thank you for waiting.”

Dan smirked, but said nothing. Together, we walked up the steps to the airplane and took our places in the soft leather seats. Between us sat a tray containing two champagne flutes and a bottle of champagne, despite the early hour.

“Drink?” Dan asked, holding up the bottle.

For a moment, I considered saying no; it was barely even eight o’clock in the morning, and I needed my senses to be sharp for the day that was ahead of me.

And yet, I knew that Dan would likely pour me a glass anyway. So I nodded. “Sure. Thanks.”

As Dan popped the bottle of champagne and poured the bubbly liquid into the flutes, I took a chance to look around at our surroundings—specifically at the lavishness of it all.

It was clear that Dan had spared no expense in purchasing his private jet, and the fine leather seating, the impeccably dressed flight attendants—all extremely attractive women, of course—and the state-of-the-art construction made it all the more clear.

It disgusted me; not only because of the fact that we were pumping chemicals and jet fuel into the air for a trip that could have been accomplished on a boat, but also because I knew that the money Dan had poured into this plane was acquired through less than savory means.

When Dan handed me my glass, however, I kept a smile on my face and accepted it graciously. “Thank you,” I said.

Dan grinned and raised his glass. I did the same, and then we both drank. The bubbles tickled the back of my nose, further discomforting me at such an early hour when the only thing I really wanted to consume was a good cup of coffee.

But it did help to have the alcohol to steel my frazzled nerves.

Before I knew it, the plan was making its way down the runway. A rush of air and a twisted stomach later, we were in the sky. It was quite beautiful, I would say that much; the morning sun was particularly golden that morning, and a fine mist had settled over the land below.

As we began making our way toward the strait of ocean that would lead us to the southern territories, I couldn’t help but look out at the landscape below in awe of the deep green color of the trees and the grass.

“Now then.” Dan’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. I tore my head away from the window to meet his steely gaze across the table, and instantly I felt my stomach drop—even if only a little.

Dan regarded me for a moment, then sighed and set his glass down. “You never answered my text earlier,” he said, tenting his fingers in front of himself and leaning back in his chair. “Where were you last night?”

Somehow, I managed not to swallow. Instead, I leaned back as well and took on as much of an air of nonchalance as I possibly could.

“Last night?” I shrugged. “I was with a woman.”

Dan quirked an eyebrow at me. “Mira? The escort who’s been missing?”

I shook my head. “I haven’t heard from her. No, I met a woman at the bar,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “I don’t remember her name.”

“Ah.” Dan smirked at me in that way that never failed to make my blood simmer just below the surface. “What did she look like?”

Admittedly, I hadn’t thought about the specifics—I had just hoped to get Dan off my trail, keep him in the woods regarding my actual whereabouts. In actuality, I had, of course, been with Olivia; one last night together before she took the boat to the southern territories, where we would rendezvous and set our plan into action.

“Blonde,” I said flippantly. “Blue eyes, tall, slim.”

Dan chuckled. “I didn’t think that was your type. Your ex-wife is so… short. And rather squat, I must say.”

I felt my blood begin to boil. How dare he speak so poorly of Olivia, who was the most beautiful woman I had ever laid eyes on; she wasn’t tall, yes, but she was athletic and healthy, and had carried two beautiful twins in her belly.

But, still, I managed to force a wry smile.

…

I stepped out of my hotel room, feeling bolstered after the phone conversation I had just had.

Everything was set in place. My envoy had confirmed that Olivia and the escorts had made it to the safehouse without a hitch. Tomorrow, at the ball, Olivia and the escorts would pair up with agents and then infiltrate the ball.

And then, we would trap Dan, publicly expose him for his shady dealings, and he would be arrested.

It was all so simple. But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive about it; after all of the work and preparation we had done, after all of the sleuthing and close calls and training, some part of me wondered if things would go entirely differently than we had planned.

Which was why I needed a drink.

With a sigh, I slid onto the barstool at the hotel bar and ordered my usual: whiskey, neat. The bartender, a stout older man with a gray handlebar mustache that was curled up at the ends, filled my glass and slid it over to me.

I quietly thanked him and took a sip, letting the warmth of the alcohol slide down my throat.

I wasn’t sitting there for long, though, before a firm hand was clapped on my shoulder. Jumping slightly, I looked up to see none other than Dan taking a seat beside me.

“Dan,” I said, forcing another wry smile. “I thought you were resting in your room.”

Dan chuckled and ordered his usual: a scotch. As always. “I can rest when I’m dead,” he replied. “What sort of an Alpha would I be if I took mid-afternoon naps after such a short plane ride?”

I felt my upper lip curl back in the smallest of sneers. You can rest in prison, I thought to myself, although I’d never say it out loud. I wondered, for a moment, if he might be cellmates with my father. Somehow, that thought brought a smile to my lips.

“Something funny?” Dan asked, noticing my smile.

I quickly shook my head. “No, nothing,” I lied.

For a few moments, Dan simply looked at me. He didn’t sip his scotch, which was out of character for him; and maybe that was why, precisely, I felt my smile fade.

It wasn’t the piercing gaze he shot me, or the way he leaned in. It was the change in character, that subtle deviation from the norm that told me that maybe, just maybe, my earlier apprehension about my plans wasn’t completely unfounded.

And the words he whispered next, so close that I could feel his warm breath on my ear, only served to solidify that thought.

“I know you’ve been smuggling escorts out.”