“Yeah,” she answered, pushing her suitcase toward the exit.
The phone line stayed silent; neither side hung up.
It wasn’t until she spotted the staff member holding a sign with her name that the man on the other end seemed to sense something.
His voice, clear and calm as a mountain spring, flowed through the speaker. “Mamie, don’t worry.”
She replied softly, “With you around, I never do.”
“Keep your phone on,” he reminded her, tone even.
“I will.”
She handed the phone back to Caleb.
The airport greeter stepped forward, hanging a “Blanche” sign on the polished silver railing.
Her assistant hurried after her. “He’s made you mad again, hasn’t he? Always so stiff–you have to tell me, why did you ever agree to marry him? I’ll never understand it!”
“Gossip,” Blanche chided lightly, her fingers absently tracing the smooth silver ring on her left hand as she followed the staffer to the waiting town car.
“Ms. Griffiths, would you like to head to the hotel first, or…?”
“I’d like to meet with Mr. Jordan before checking in.”
“Mr. Jordan is eager to host you,” the man in the front seat said with a smile. He turned to the driver. “Take us to the Royal Feast Pavilion.”
Just then, a group of sharply dressed men strode out of the arrivals gate. Leading them was a man nearly six–foot–three, broad–shouldered, with chiseled features and piercing dark eyes that lent him an air of intimidating authority. His white shirt and black slacks were immaculate; his expression, unreadable.
“Eddy!” A sweet, flirtatious voice rang out as a woman–stunning, with flawless makeup and a daring dress–hurried to his side. “I’ve been waiting for you forever! Come on, let’s eat.” Rebekah McCarthy smiled, reaching for his arm.
Eddy shot her a cold, warning look and she froze, hand hovering awkwardly in. midair. She’d forgotten–he hated being touched.
1/2
“Miss McCarthy, our boss is in a hurry to see Mr. Jordan. There’ll be plenty of time for dinner after their meeting,” the head of security said diplomatically.
“Mr. Jordan is an old family friend. I can arrange a meeting with a single call!” Rebekah chirped, dialing her phone and murmuring into it, “Royal Feast Pavilion, private room 808. See you soon.”
Inside Room 808, Mr. Jordan rose to greet his guests, unable to hide his relief. “Ms. Griffiths, at last! You have no idea what those Internet renegades have put us through. Please, we need your help.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Jordan. We’ll do everything we can to catch the culprits,” Blanche assured him, her tone serious. “I’m planning to set up a bait system-”
The door swung open abruptly.
“What sort of VIP makes Mr. Jordan greet them personally–and keeps me waiting? Well, I’m done waiting.” Rebekah’s voice was honey–sweet and petulant as she swept into the room.
Eddy followed, tall and silent, his presence filling the doorway.
Noting that Mr. Jordan needed to host his other guests, Blanche rose with Caleb. “We’ll wait for you next door.”
She hadn’t expected to return home–had only planned to finish her work and leave. again, avoiding unnecessary entanglements and unfamiliar faces.
Eddy entered the room, his gaze sweeping over the guests. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of someone in a white shirt and jeans slipping through the other door. His expression remained impassive as he listened to Rebekah fawn. Xover Mr. Jordan and introduce him.
“Mr. Jordan, what kind of guest could possibly be more important than me? Eddy here is the real VIP!”
“From the famed Novandria…”
Eddy’s dark eyes narrowed, a sudden flash of crimson fury in their depths. In a heartbeat, he strode from the room, but the hallway outside was deserted.
Behind him, the head of security called out, “Sir, we’ve just spotted your wife at the airport!”
