The Billionaire's Debt Bride

Chapter 5

I didn't sleep. How could I? Between the marriage contract, the threats, and that photo of the briefcase, my brain wouldn't shut off.

By morning, I'd made a decision. I needed that briefcase. Whatever Dad had stolen, it was valuable enough to kill for. Valuable enough that someone was willing to threaten Mom.

Which meant it was valuable enough to trade. For answers. For freedom. For my life back.

I just had to find it first.

The photo showed it under Dad's car seat. But the car was at the bottom of a canyon, and even if I could get to it, the police had already processed the scene. If the briefcase was there, they would have found it.

Unless Dad moved it before he died.

I grabbed my jacket and headed out. Mom was still asleep, or pretending to be. Either way, I couldn't face her yet. Couldn't explain what I was about to do.

My phone rang as I reached my car. Not an unknown number this time. A name I hadn't seen in six months.

Tyler.

I almost didn't answer. My ex-boyfriend wasn't someone I wanted to deal with right now. But something made me pick up.

"Sam! Finally. I've been trying to reach you for days."

His voice was too loud. Too cheerful. Everything about Tyler was too much. That's why I'd ended things.

"What do you want, Tyler?"

"I heard about your dad. I'm so sorry, babe. I wanted to check on you."

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine. Look, I'm in town. Let me take you to breakfast. We can talk."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Come on. Just as friends. You shouldn't be alone right now."

I was about to refuse when I saw the black SUV parked across the street. Tinted windows. Engine running. One of Dante's people, probably. Watching me like he'd promised.

Suddenly breakfast with Tyler sounded perfect. Let Dante's guard follow me on a date. Let him report back that I wasn't just sitting around waiting for orders.

"Fine. Where?"

"That cafe you used to love. Downtown. Meet you in twenty?"

I hung up and got in my car. The SUV pulled out behind me immediately. Good. I wanted them to follow.

The cafe was busy with morning rush. I spotted Tyler right away. Blond hair styled perfectly, designer sunglasses pushed up on his head, smile that probably charmed every woman in a ten-foot radius.

He stood when he saw me, arms open. "Sam!"

I let him hug me. He smelled like expensive cologne and hair product. Nothing like Dante's subtle, dangerous scent.

Stop it. I wasn't comparing them.

"You look tired," Tyler said, pulling back to study my face. "Are you sleeping okay?"

"Not really."

We sat. He ordered us both coffee without asking what I wanted. That used to annoy me. Now it barely registered.

"So talk to me." He reached across the table, taking my hand. "What's going on? And don't say you're fine. I know you better than that."

Did he? We'd dated for eight months, but I wasn't sure Tyler had ever really known me. He'd liked the idea of me. The smart girl he could show off to his country club friends.

"It's complicated."

"Try me."

Where would I even start? My father had gambling debts or worse. A billionaire claimed to own me via contract. Someone was threatening my family. Oh, and I might have to get married in two weeks.

"Just family stuff," I said finally. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"But I do worry. I still care about you, Sam." His thumb rubbed circles on my hand. "I know we didn't end well, but that doesn't mean I stopped caring."

We'd ended because I caught him making out with someone at a party. He'd cried, apologized, blamed the alcohol. I'd walked away and never looked back.

"Tyler, why did you really call?"

His smile faltered. "I told you. I heard about your dad and wanted to help."

"Help how?"

"However you need. Money, a place to stay, whatever." He leaned forward. "I made some bad investments recently, but I've still got resources. You don't have to do this alone."

Something about the way he said investments made my stomach twist. "What kind of investments?"

"Just business stuff. Nothing you'd be interested in." He squeezed my hand. "The point is, I'm here for you. Like I should have been before."

I pulled my hand back. "I need to go."

"Already? We just sat down."

"I have things to handle."

"At least let me drive you. Your car looks like it's about to fall apart."

"No thanks."

I stood. Tyler stood too, reaching for my arm. "Sam, wait. Just give me another chance. We were good together."

"No, we weren't."

"We could be. I've changed. I'm more mature now."

I doubted that. Tyler was the same charming, shallow guy he'd always been. All flash and no substance. The kind of man who made promises he'd never keep.

The kind of man I used to think I wanted.

I left the cafe. The SUV was still parked across the street. I walked toward my car, then stopped.

If Dante's people were following me, they knew where I'd been. What I'd done. Which meant Dante would know I'd met with an ex-boyfriend.

Good. Let him know I wasn't his obedient little possession.

I drove to Carver Tower. Stupid, probably. But I couldn't shake the feeling that if anyone knew where Dad's briefcase was, it would be Dante. He'd known about the contract. Known about the debt. Maybe he knew about the briefcase too.

The same security guard from yesterday barely looked up when I walked in. "Forty-third floor."

"He's expecting me?"

"Mr. Carver said you'd be back."

Of course he did. Arrogant bastard.

The elevator ride felt longer this time. My hands were sweating. Not from fear, I told myself. From anger.

But that was a lie. I was terrified of Dante Carver. Terrified of the cold way he looked at me. The absolute control he seemed to have over everything. The way my body reacted when he got close, even when my brain screamed danger.

The reception area was empty. No assistant waiting. Just silence and those massive windows overlooking the city.

I walked down the hallway to his office. The doors were closed.

I should knock. Should wait for permission.

Instead, I pushed them open.

Dante sat behind his desk, on the phone. His eyes flicked to me, then away. He held up one finger. Wait.

I didn't wait. I walked in, closing the doors behind me.

He ended the call. Set the phone down. Then leaned back in his chair, watching me.

"Samantha." The way he said my name made something flip in my stomach. Soft. Almost gentle. Completely at odds with everything else about him. "I wasn't expecting you until tonight."

"Where's my father's briefcase?"

His expression didn't change. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie. You know everything else. You have to know about the briefcase."

"I don't."

I moved closer to his desk. "Someone sent me a photo. They want what's in it. They're threatening my mom."

Now his expression shifted. Darkened. "Show me."

I pulled out my phone, found the message, handed it over. Dante studied it, his jaw tight.

"When did you get this?"

"Last night. After you left."

He stood, moving to the window. Thinking. I watched the way he moved, all controlled power and dangerous grace. Nothing like Tyler's flashy confidence. Dante didn't need to prove anything. He just was.

"Did your father mention a briefcase to you?" he asked. "Anything about keeping something safe?"

"No. He didn't tell me anything."

"Then we need to find it before they do."

"We?"

He turned. "You think I'm going to let you run around the city with a target on your back? You're mine to protect, remember?"

"I'm not yours."

"For the next twenty-three hours, that's debatable. After that, you'll give me your answer, and we'll know for certain."

I hated him. Hated the way he talked about me like property. Hated that he was right about needing protection. Hated that part of me felt safer in his presence than anywhere else.

"I'm going to find that briefcase," I said. "With or without your help."

"Then with." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Where do we start?"

I hadn't expected him to agree so easily. It threw me off balance. "I don't know. The car is at a police impound."

"Then we'll start there."

He moved toward the door. I followed, my mind racing. This was my chance. If Dante had Dad's briefcase, he'd keep it somewhere secure. Somewhere in this office, maybe.

"Actually," I said, "I need to use your bathroom first."

He paused. Looked at me. Something flickered in his eyes. Suspicion, maybe.

"Down the hall. Second door on the left."

"Thanks."

I left his office. Counted to ten. Then doubled back, slipping through the doors as quietly as possible.

The office was empty. Dante's desk stood like a fortress. I moved quickly, opening drawers. Nothing. Just papers and pens and normal office supplies.

The filing cabinets were locked. I tried the desk again, looking for a key. Found one taped under the bottom drawer.

My hands shook as I unlocked the first cabinet. Files. Contracts. Nothing that looked like a briefcase.

Second cabinet. More files. A locked box that rattled when I shook it. I grabbed it, trying to pry it open.

"Looking for something?"

I spun around. Dante stood in the doorway, arms crossed. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were cold as winter.

My heart stopped.

"I can explain," I started.

"No need." He walked toward me. Slow. Deliberate. Each step making my pulse race faster. "You think I have your father's briefcase. You thought you could steal it while I wasn't looking."

"I wasn't stealing. I was just—"

"Lying." He was right in front of me now. "Breaking into my private files. Going through my things without permission."

"You won't help me. What choice do I have?"

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough that I couldn't pull away. The locked box fell from my other hand, hitting the floor with a thud.

"You have the choice to trust me," he said quietly. His dark eyes held mine. "But you won't. Because you'd rather believe I'm the villain."

"Aren't you?"

Something flickered across his face. Almost like pain. Then it was gone, replaced by that cold mask.

"Maybe I am." His grip tightened slightly. "But I'm the villain trying to keep you alive, Samantha. Remember that."

The door burst open. Marcus rushed in, another guard behind him.

"Sir, we have a problem. Vincent's men just pulled up downstairs. They're asking for Ms. Montgomery."

Dante's eyes never left mine.

"Tell them she's not here."

"They're not leaving, sir. They say they have proof the contract is forged. They're demanding you hand her over, or they're coming up to take her."