Page 58 of Masked Secrets
“No one is here,” the second guy says.
I hold my breath, hoping they will leave.
Whoosh! The door pulls away from me, and a bright light shines in my terror-filled eyes. I’m staring at the shadowed outlines of the killers.
I start to scream, but a hand quickly covers my mouth.
The first guy says, “I knew I heard someone listening. Give me your pocket square. We can use it as a gag.”
No. I have to be able to scream, so I open my mouth, biting the hand covering it.
“Ouch!” He pulls his hand away as I try to move.
The second guy grabs my arm, gripping it with excessive force. I start to scream, but he shoves a silky fabric into my mouth, muffling the sound.
Panic and adrenaline course through my body. I kick and thrash as the men attempt to capture my arms and legs. I canonly hope that I hit them where it hurts, or someone hears the commotion and comes to check on the source of the noise.
The second guy whisper-yells, “We need something to tie her up with. What can we use?”
Guy one hisses, “Our bow ties. Thankfully, they aren’t the pre-tied ones. Undo yours and hand it to me.”
Within a minute, my arms are bound with one tie and my ankles with another.
“That should keep her here until after the ball. Then we’ll find a more permanent solution,” the second guy says.
“Not another death. There must be a better option.”
“It’s too late. That’s our only choice. Let’s lock her in here for now and return to the party before we’re missed.”
“Also, alert the security guys. If anyone looks for her, they need to have a cover story. They can say she’s already left.”
I can’t believe they plan to kill me. At least I have until the end of the evening to find a way out of here.
Or so I thought until a glancing blow hits the back of my head.
As I’m losing consciousness, I have unexpected clarity about one thing. I love Stuart, but I’ll never be able to tell him.
The world goes dark.
28
STUART
I’ve put my plan for a grand gesture into motion, and so far, so good. Step one is done.
For step two to work, I need to find Brooke. I had the PR team send her an extravagant red gown with feathers to make it easier to spot her tonight. Of course, she thinks it came from the PR firm. Otherwise, I was afraid she wouldn’t accept it.
She must be here somewhere. I thought I saw her across the ballroom. But when I looked again, she was gone.
I have the whole PR team, security, and valets looking for her. The valets assured me that they saw her arrive, and she hasn’t left.
I’m hoping to spot her red dress as I wander through the various rooms and outdoor areas. But with hundreds of guests and dozens of rooms in this mansion, it won’t be easy to find her.
As I walk along the poolside patio, two women approach. One is wearing a royal-blue gown. The other is in emerald green. Both are fit and attractive—the type that would usually capture my attention. Tonight, however, I’m fully focused on finding Brooke.
The one in blue says, “Excuse me, you’re Lord Sandridge, correct?”
“I am.”
