Page 122 of Redemption
“I hate seeing her so unhappy. I just don’t get what’s going on with Logan.”
“Me either.” He gave my thigh a quick squeeze before returning his hand to the steering wheel.
After we returned to the Huxley Grand, Jackson went for a workout. Hotel security was stationed outside in the hall. I ordered some room service for lunch then directed my attention to my inbox until there was a knock at the door.
“Room service.”
I was in the middle of washing my hands, so I called out, “Come in.”
The door opened, and a cart was rolled in, the gentle clanking of dishes accompanying it. When I entered the dining room, the woman turned. I tilted my head, studying her. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. At least, not until she started talking.
She pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down. Don’t scream. Don’t call for help. Or I will shoot.” The words rang out in a posh English accent.
“Amelia.” I didn’t bother to hide my annoyance. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” I scanned the room for my phone, inching toward the coffee table where it was resting.
“Don’t even think about it.” She removed a gun from beneath one of the silver domes. “And it’s Lady Amelia.”
I sat down, considering my options. She had a gun with a silencer. And I knew she was a good shot. Hell, she had a silver medal to prove it.
“Hands on the table. I want to see them at all times.”
I did as she asked. “What now, Amelia?” I intentionally didn’t use her title just to piss her off.
She shoved my shoulder. “You will address me as Lady Amelia.”
I said nothing, adrenaline pumping through me. I wondered what she wanted. How long she’d been planning this. If Edward was in on it.
And where the hell was security?
“What can I do for you, Lady Amelia?” I sneered. I needed to keep her talking until I could devise a plan.
“I want you to transfer fifty million dollars into this bank account.” She slid a piece of paper in front of me. It contained the number of an offshore account.
I scoffed. “And why would I do that?”
She moved to stand before me. “Because if you don’t wire the money within the next twenty-four hours, I will release these…” She dropped a handful of photos on the table, and a few cascaded to the floor.
My eyes widened at an image of Jackson sitting on the edge of the hot tub in Turks and Caicos, naked. Another of my front, the sheer material of the swimsuit leaving nothing to the imagination. Another of us touching. Kissing.
“What the hell?” Someone had been watching us? Photographing us? I clenched my fists. “You have no right…”
She threw down another—a blurry photograph of us in the outdoor shower, though it was clear what we were doing.
“Shall I keep going?” She tossed a few more on the table.
Photographs of him shirtless and straddling me. Others of us dry humping. I covered my mouth with my hand. Jesus.
I wanted to cover them all. Remove them from her view. These were our private moments.
“Mm.” She scanned the photos, and my blood boiled. “He’s hot. I get why you’d want to fuck your bodyguard.”
I gnashed my teeth. There was so much wrong with that statement, but I figured she was trying to bait me. I needed to rely on my logic, not emotions, if I was going to survive this. “Did Edward put you up to this?”
She cackled. “Put me up to this. That’s cute.” She shook her head and paced, waving the gun in the air. I needed to find a way to disarm her. Maybe if I kept her talking, she’d get distracted.
“No,” she continued. “He was definitely in on it, but this was my idea.”
I tried not to show that her words stung. In on it, how? What did that mean?