Entering, she got only a few steps before a shrill noise assaulted her ears, the screech making her jerk to a halt. She remained still for a moment, her heart thudding against her ribs. But she quickly realized it was the winter wind, gustily whistling into the openings of the structure, rushing through to burst forth from the other side. Stop jumping at shadows.
She laughed at herself. The noise had been startling, even eerie. But certainly not supernatural, and nothing to be frightened of. Though she did wish the air had remained calm. As strong as the gusts were down here, they had to be much worse high above.
“He wouldn’t bring you up there if they were,” she whispered.
She proceeded carefully, alone and nearly blind in a world of bare steel and hard concrete. Nails strewn on the ground, sharp scraps of metal with jagged edges, piles of debris and broken drywall, heavy equipment to maneuver past. She walked a gauntlet of construction material, constantly reminding herself the price was worth it for the payoff coming after it.
When she saw the cagelike elevator, she picked up her pace, the glow from within beckoning like a lighthouse from a rocky shore. She breathed a deep sigh of relief the moment she stepped inside, even though it was one of those open-construction types, like none she’d ever ridden in before, not exactly the picture of safety.
And then she laughed. “You charmer.” Because the light he’d mentioned was provided by two tall candles in glass holders. Despite the wind drifting through the grating and making the flames dance, they remained lit, casting soft illumination and banishing the shadows. What a romantic gesture.
It wasn’t the only one. Wendy stared down at the floor, watching thin streams of red wax drip down the candles to land on the bouquet of red roses lying at their base. No one had ever given her roses.
“You’re wonderful,” she whispered. And when she saw the fluffy stuffed teddy bear beside the flowers, tears of joy spilled onto her cheeks.
She wanted to hurry, but wasn’t entirely sure how to operate the elevator. Fortunately, he seemed to have anticipated that. Taped to the handle was a handwritten note with instructions. At the bottom of it, in a postscript, he had written, Please enjoy a glass of champagne before you begin this journey up to my world. I already have one and will be drinking to you the moment I hear the elevator start to ascend. We will toast to our lives together on your arrival.
Had there ever been a more romantic man?
Wendy quickly looked around. She hadn’t even noticed the open champagne bottle, wrapped in a towel, standing in an ice bucket. It had been nearly hidden by the flowers, which had taken up all her attention. Behind it was a tapered glass.
Though not much of a drinker, she wouldn’t refuse the offer. Not only so she could toast to him, but also because she needed to calm her nerves. So she poured. And she sipped. She had never liked champagne, and she liked this dry, bitter stuff even less. Still, she drank again, swallowing until she’d downed the glass, feeling the bubbles tickle her nose and the effervescent alcohol hit her stomach.
Feeling fortified, she closed the grated door with a clang of metal, screwed her courage tight, and followed Rafe’s operating instructions. Nothing happened at first; then the steel enclosure finally creaked to life. With a grinding of gears, the elevator began to move.
Funny, the world already seemed to be lighter, somehow. As she slowly began to rise, she began to feel light, weightless. As if she were floating. Which was as it should be. She was being released from the darkness of her dreary, average life. Unencumbered, free.
Up she went. Higher. Toward the heavens. And toward her destiny.
Almost as if she were flying.
His little bird was unconscious before she reached the fifteenth floor.
Wanting to ensure Wendy Cramer’s arrival would go exactly the way he’d planned it, Darwin had watched her every move from the nanny-cam teddy bear he’d left for her. So he witnessed the precise moment of the woman’s collapse. Perfect timing.
So far, she had not disappointed him, reacting exactly as he’d expected her to. From her accepting his urgent invitation, to her nervousness building as he kept her waiting, to her downing a glass of champagne to combat her fear, everything had gone as planned.
“You are so shockingly predictable,” he said when the elevator finally came to a stop on his level. She might have thought she’d started its ascent, using his directions, but she hadn’t. Wanting to delay her after she’d consumed the champagne, to give the ketamine a few extra moments to do its job, he had lied in the note, and used the landing call station on this level to get the elevator moving. “You had so many chances to avoid this fate and squandered them all.”
She could have refused to come, of course. Only an utter fool would believe the nonsense he’d been spoon-feeding her for weeks. A member of an anonymous royal family in hiding? A prince falling passionately in love with a timid operator he’d never even seen? God, it was a wonder the idiotic woman had survived to adulthood.
“How foolish you were to not even question the name on the phone.” He’d intentionally called her with that telephone, for a number of reasons. Not least of which was to give her another chance to defy his opinion of her, develop some modicum of good sense, and back away.
She’d blazed forward instead. Despite the name. Despite the sound of his voice-not an accented word. Right past a sign identifying the under-construction building as the new headquarters for a major local shipping company.
No penthouse. No condos. No royal investment.
“And any teenage girl knows better than to drink from an unattended bottle someone else opened. You stupid, awful woman. Didn’t you notice the taste?”
She moaned. Though he had allowed adequate time, he moved quickly. The drug was very fast-acting, but he hadn’t wanted her out for long. And despite the bitter taste, he hadn’t been sure the twit would drink only one glass, so he couldn’t lace the champagne too heavily.
Good thing he had expected her to fib about her weight. He’d dosed her for a woman twenty pounds heavier than she portrayed herself to be. By his calculations, one glass would keep her down for about an hour.
One hour should suffice for what he had to do. Ten or fifteen minutes at most here, leaving plenty of time to get out of the area. He would take up his position at the vantage point he’d selected earlier, a perfect spot to watch what happened.
“I kept my promise, didn’t I?” he told her as he dragged her outside. “No walls, no doors. You can be seen by anyone looking in the right direction, as long as they’re at the appropriate height.”
He was counting on it.
As he had told her on the phone, he had been busy preparing for her arrival. He had severed the security netting and covered the safety lights. The tape was brand-new, the knife sharpened. He had only to get her ready and depart.
The steely blade of the knife glittered in the darkness. Cutting off her clothes, he took care not to let it nick her plump flesh, not wanting to hurt her.
He didn’t want to do anything to her. He just wanted her to stop polluting his world with her presence. Having no godlike delusions, he couldn’t make the choice between life or death. He could only put her in the position of having to do it herself. She could adapt, or she could die.
So far, she was on a direct course for death. But she might surprise him yet.
Once he’d stripped her bare, he rolled her onto her stomach. Grabbing the duct tape with one gloved hand, he wrapped it around her wrists, securing them together behind her back. More tape for her eyes-he wound it around her head several times, so it stuck to itself, to her hair, to her skin.