Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
The arrangements are in place. I booked a private jet to fly us to Marseille in France. Private jets aren’t good for the environment, but I don’t want to share our first moments as husband and wife with four hundred strangers in a commercial plane. Those hours are sacred. I’m selfish like that.
From Marseille, we’ll take the yacht. The skipper will pilot it. I’ll have seven hours to ravish her body, but I will only come inside her when my seed can spill on the sheets of my bed. That doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her until then. There are many ways to please her without using my cock.
At the hotel, I have breakfast in the courtyard before taking a shower. I check my phone as I dry myself off. Sabella hasn’t seen the gown I left in the villa yet. She didn’t have a chance. Instead, she went home to Great Brak River, no doubt to confront Ryan about the truth. The men I hired to keep her safe informed me she’s on her way back to Cape Town. She should arrive any minute.
I dress in the bespoke suit I had tailored for the occasion and round the outfit off with a black silk tie. I’m not supposed to see the bride before the ceremony. My mother will turn in her grave. But I can’t trust Sabella to make it to the Home Affairs office on her own. She won’t get into a car with a chauffeur unless she’s being held at gunpoint. Between driving her myself and having her dragged in front of an official with a gun pushed against her head, the first option is my choice.
I cast a critical glance in the mirror, taming my hair by combing it through with my fingers. Then I grab my overnight bag and check out. The security guards I hired wait in the street. Ryan and I have an agreement, but I trust an Edwards just as far as I can throw him.
Four men with firearms concealed under their jackets get into a bullet-proof Mercedes. Two more wait for me at my rental. One takes my bag and loads it in the trunk when I unlock the doors. The other shifts behind the wheel. I make myself at home on the backseat and fire off a quick text message to the pilot. He replies immediately, assuring me that everything is ready. I’m about to put the phone away when it rings.
It’s the man I hired to keep an eye on Sabella.
My gut tightens as I take the call.
“Mr. Russo.” He sounds out of breath. “We have a problem. Ms. Edwards hasn’t arrived home yet.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I grip the phone hard, adding with menace, “Tell me you have a visual on her.”
“That’s the thing. She was on her way back from her mother’s house, but I lost her in the city. She went to great lengths to shake me off.”
“Where in the city?” I bite out.
“Near Greenmarket Square.”
I gnash my teeth. “Has she been home at all?”
“No, sir. Her sister-in-law went into the villa an hour ago. My colleague said she exited with a suitcase.”
“Why the fuck wasn’t I informed?”
“We didn’t think it strange. We assumed her sister-in-law helped her pack for her trip.”
“Where did the sister-in-law go?”
He hesitates before continuing. “We lost her too.”
I’m bristling with anger. “You what?”
“She entered the underground parking lot of a shopping mall. The lot has five levels. By the time we located her car, she was nowhere to be found. We’re looking for her on the security cameras of the mall as we speak.”
I pull up the app that tracks Sabella’s location via her phone. The signal is dead. She must’ve destroyed the phone. The localization tracker is useless.
Fuck.
“Go faster,” I tell the driver. “Don’t worry about the speed limit.”
He puts his foot down on the accelerator. The driver behind us follows his example.
“Put out an alert with your contacts and give them Miss Edwards’s number plate,” I instruct the man on the other end of the line. “Involve the traffic department if you must. Pay anyone who can be bought. Money isn’t an issue.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do a fucking better job this time,” I say before ending the call and dialing the head of the security company.
When he picks up, I say, “I need the street video surveillance for the last hour in a ten-kilometer radius of Greenmarket Square.”
“My men just brought me up to speed.” His tone is apologetic. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
“You better hope so.” He won’t like the consequences if they don’t.
When I hang up, I check Margaret Edwards’s and Ryan’s phones. They’re both dead. So are Matilde’s and her husband’s. The whole family is in on this. Even the housekeeper’s phone is off the grid.