Chapter 9

Luke sped off toward Stephanie’s house. Stepping inside, he found her waiting right at the doorway. She pulled him into a fierce, demanding kiss, guiding him back toward the bedroom.

“There's something you need to know,” Luke said, breaking away slightly.

“Can't it wait? I'm already wet,” Stephanie pouted, straddling his lap with her legs spread wide.

“It's about our plan,” Luke replied.

“What about it?” Stephanie asked, herr expression changing when she noticed how serious he looked.

“We won't be using the hotel on Riggs Road anymore,” Luke said, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Why?” Stephanie's face fell into a sharp frown. She couldn't imagine a more ideal location to execute their scheme. “Why change it? That place was perfect.”

“Arden did. She said her doctor told her not to travel far, so she had Kate book a different hotel instead.”

“That bitch is always getting in my way,” Stephanie fumed.

“Don't worry. I asked her to send me the details so we can check it out first,” Luke reassured her.

“What if the new place isn't suitable?”

“Let's confirm first. She already sent me the info.” Luke reached for his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to her.

“Whitmore Hotels and Resorts?” Stephanie read aloud, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“What's wrong?” Luke asked, furrowing his brow.

“That's Arden's ex-fiancé's hotel. Why on earth would she go *there*?”

“Her ex? Let me call her—”

“No, don't call her,” Stephanie snapped, intercepting his hand.

“Why not?”

“She never told you about her ex. I don't want her getting suspicious—not now, when we're so close,” Stephanie reasoned.

“You're right. But what do we do then?” Luke asked, troubled.

“Whitmore Hotels and Resorts has notoriously tight security, but it also features ultra-luxury soundproof suites. That could actually work to our advantage,” Stephanie said, a wicked smile spreading across her face. “You won't have to worry about a thing.”

“You're brilliant, you know that? Come here,” Luke murmured, his hesitation vanishing as he pulled her back into a hungry kiss.

Meanwhile, back at Kate's apartment, Luke's taillights had barely faded into the night when Arden pulled out her phone and made a quick call.

“You can come now,” she said into the receiver before stepping back inside.

“He's gone already?” Kate asked, sitting comfortably on the couch with a glass of juice, her legs crossed.

“Yes. I told him I'd be staying here until the wedding, and he promised not to look for me... though I suspect he might send Stephanie to check.”

“Let him try. You know Stephanie and I detest each other; she wouldn't set foot near here,” Kate said dismissively, taking a sip.

“I hope so. I can't wait for all of this to be over.”

“Me too. Sooo, what's our next move?” Kate asked, leaning forward.

“Ethan said I need to install hidden cameras all over the house so we can gather evidence against them,” Arden replied, sinking onto the sofa and massaging her throbbing temples.

“Smart idea, but how do you plan on pulling that off without anyone noticing? At this point, you can't trust anyone—not even the domestic staff.”

“I'll handle it. You just need to come with me,” Arden said, her eyes drifting toward the wall clock. “I also need to stop by the office tomorrow to pick up some crucial documents.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Not for the moment. Ethan's driver should be here any minute now.” A sudden wave of nausea hit her, and she frowned. “I'm starving.”

“What would you like?”

“Pot roast and apple juice,” Arden replied, her eyes briefly lighting up at the thought.

Just then, a crisp knock sounded at the front door.

“That must be the driver,” Arden said, making to stand.

“I'll get it,” Kate offered, walking over and pulling the door open. Her breath hitched. “Ethan Whitmore?”

Arden scrambled to her feet in utter disbelief.

“Good evening, Ms. I'm here for Ms. Johnson,” Ethan said, his voice deep, heavy, and undeniably professional.

“Oh my—where are my manners? Please, come inside,” Kate stammered, stepping aside.

“Ethan? You didn't have to come yourself,” Arden said. She was standing right behind Kate, having rushed to the entryway the moment she heard his name.

“I wanted to make sure you arrived safely, seeing as this is your first time staying at my estate,” Ethan replied smoothly, his dark gaze locking onto hers.

Arden suddenly realized that he was right—she had never actually been to his home before. Their past relationship had been transactional. They had only ever met in hotels and at galas, never in each other's homes.

“That's incredibly thoughtful of you. Please, take good care of my best friend,” Kate said, bridging the heavy atmosphere.

“You have my word. I'll make sure not a single hair on her head is harmed,” Ethan promised. Kate couldn't help but wonder why he sounded so dangerous when he was only making a promise.

“By the way, this is Kate, my best friend,” Arden added, feeling a formal introduction was necessary despite having mentioned her earlier.

“Nice to meet you,” Ethan said, offering a firm handshake.

“The honor is mine,” Kate replied, secretly struck by the sheer size of his palm.

“Are you ready?” Ethan asked, his attention immediately snapping back to Arden.

“Yes, let's go,” Arden replied, sharply than she had intended.

 “Bye, Kate. I'll call you as soon as I arrive.”

“Take care,” Kate called out, walking them to the threshold as Ethan offered a polite nod of farewell.

Waiting at the curb was a custom, limited-edition matte-black Lamborghini, leaving Kate staring in quiet awe. A uniformed driver bowed respectfully, opening the rear door for them. Once Arden and Ethan settled inside, the door sealed shut with a heavy thud.

The ride to Ethan's estate was entirely silent. Ethan occupied himself with a financial magazine, while Arden scrolled absentmindedly on her phone. Even with the climate control humming softly, a cold sweat clung to Arden's skin, fueled by the palpable tension radiating between them.

When the car finally slowed, they entered through towering wrought-iron gates that opened into a sprawling, ultra-modern private estate nestled against the hills. The mansion was a masterclass in brutalist luxury—massive panes of floor-to-ceiling glass, polished dark stone, and warm ambient lighting that cut through the night.

A security guard held the door as they stepped out, and a pristine head housekeeper was waiting at the grand entryway.

“Good evening, Sir. Good evening, Ma'am,” the housekeeper greeted gracefully, relieving them of their bags while another attendant knelt to slip a pair of plush, custom-fitted velvet slippers onto Arden's feet. Arden blinked in quiet amazement—they fit her exact shoe size down to the millimeter.

“Thank you,” Arden murmured, following closely behind Ethan's commanding stride.

He paused briefly in the vast, double-height living room. The space was breathtaking: a sunken conversation pit anchored by a roaring minimalist fireplace, walls lined with museum-quality contemporary art, and massive glass sliding doors overlooking a glowing infinity pool that seemed to spill into the horizon.

A steward materialized seamlessly from the shadows.

“Welcome back, Sir.” The steward greeted Ethan, who didn't respond.

“Ma'am, please follow me,” the steward said.

Arden cast a glance at Ethan, but his broad back was already turned as he tapped briskly on his phone, sparing her not a single glance.

She followed the steward up a sweeping floating staircase carved from white marble. He stopped at a heavy, brushed-metal door, pressed a security pad, and the door glided open to reveal an expansive, breathtaking suite designed in calming tones of ivory, slate, and brushed gold.

“This will be your room, Ma'am,” the steward announced, gesturing inside. “The walk-in closet is fully stocked with essentials and seasonal wear for you to use until your personal belongings arrive.” He pointed to a sleek landline on the bedside table. “Should you require anything at all, simply pick up the phone and someone will attend to you. Dinner will be served shortly.”

“Thank you so much,” Arden said, hesitation clipping her words. “Um... whose room is this?”

“No one has ever used it, Ma'am. The Master gave strict instructions to have it prepared exclusively for you earlier today. The wardrobe was curated and delivered directly from boutiques in Prescott this afternoon. A stylist will be available tomorrow should you wish to make any changes.”

Arden nodded speechlessly. “Thank you. That will be all.”

With a polite bow, the steward withdrew, sealing the door quietly behind him.

Exhaling a long, shuddering breath, Arden turned and crossed the room toward the massive walk-in wardrobe. She pushed the glass doors open and stared, her jaw dropping. Row upon row of designer garments, shoes, and accessories lined the racks, perfectly organized by color and season. The sheer scale of the preparation—done in just a few hours—left her completely bewildered.

A sharp knock suddenly rapped against her bedroom door.