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THIRTY
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2025-06-03 13:29:26
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His Heartbroken Surrogate THIRTY - THREE
CARA's POVBy the time I got back to my room, the weight of the entire day was pulsing behind my eyes. I had taken off my shoes, pulled my hair into a halfhearted knot, and started brushing it out with automatic strokes—more for the rhythm than for the result. My fingers still twitched every now and then, remembering the heat in David’s stare, the feel of that card against my skin.And worse—remembering the way Wesley’s body had caught mine that morning. How close we’d been. How stupidly short the distance had felt.I was halfway through smoothing the hem of my blouse when I heard the knock.Three soft, measured taps.I knew who it was before I even turned.“Come in,” I called out, careful to keep my voice neutral.The door creaked open. Wesley stepped in—dressed down now, no blazer, shirt rolled at the sleeves, all quiet control and unreadable calm.His eyes scanned the room like it was a chessboard. Then landed on me.“I wanted to say…” he started, then paused. “About this morning.
His Heartbroken Surrogate THIRTY - TWO
CARA's POVThe lights weren’t too harsh, but I still felt like I was under a spotlight.A small group of elite buyers, all dressed in silk ties and sharp heels, sat in folding gallery chairs with calm, unreadable expressions. The Faulkner paintings lined the wall behind me—six of them, glimmering in their minimalist frames. One brushstroke out of place and the whole thing would feel amateur. I swallowed hard.Mia gave me a thumbs up from the corner.I took one last breath.And then I spoke.“Thank you all for coming today. We’re honored to showcase the late Faulkner estate—six original pieces, each with distinct provenance and historical importance.”The second I started talking, something shifted. My nerves didn’t vanish completely, but they slid into the background. My voice steadied. My palms stopped sweating.I stepped closer to Monarch at Dusk, the oldest in the collection. “This particular piece was originally part of the Edgarton Collection in Scotland before being acquired by
His Heartbroken Surrogate THIRTY-ONE
CARA's POVI was halfway through curling my hair when my phone rang. Again.Selina.Of course it was.The screen barely lit before her voice was already echoing through my AirPods—sharp, clipped, and jet-lagged but somehow still commanding from across the world.“Cara. Tell me you’ve gone over the Faulkner file.”I straightened with the curling iron still mid-air. “Good morning to you too, Selina.”“I’ll skip the small talk. Have you gone over the provenance history on Rothschild’s Estate, 1914?”I closed my eyes. “Yes. It was once part of a German private collection, later seized during World War II, then returned after restitution negotiations in ’98.”A beat of silence. “All right. That’s decent. Don’t fumble under pressure. These buyers are billionaires, not tourists on a gallery crawl.”I inhaled slowly. “I won’t.”“I need more than that, Cara. This is the kind of presentation that determines if we ever get these clients again. Juliet was supposed to handle this. You’re the backu
His Heartbroken Surrogate THIRTY
CARA's POVMy phone buzzed violently on the nightstand, jolting me from a restless sleep.For a second, I blinked into the soft morning light filtering through the curtains, half-dreaming, half-recovering from another wave of nausea I’d battled hours earlier. But the moment I saw Selina Peters’ name flashing across the screen, my stomach twisted all over again—and not from pregnancy hormones this time.I sighed and picked it up.“Cara,” Selina’s crisp, no-nonsense voice filled my ear. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”She always said that, knowing full well she had.“No,” I lied, dragging myself up against the pillows. “Good morning.”“I need you to get to the gallery early tomorrow,” she said, already steamrolling past niceties. “You’ll be presenting the Faulkner collection to a group of buyers.”I sat up straighter. “Wait—me?”“Yes, you,” she said, already sounding exasperated. “Juliet was supposed to do it, but she’s suddenly… indisposed. Something about a stomach bug. I need someone com
His Heartbroken Surrogate TWENTY - NINE
CARA's POV“Behind you!”He didn’t hesitate.The second my voice cracked the air, he spun—just in time.The first attacker lunged, knife flashing under the swinging bulb. Juan sidestepped it cleanly, grabbing the man by the wrist and twisting hard. There was a sickening snap—then a gunshot. One clean round to the chest. The man crumpled, legs folding like paper.The other two didn’t pause. They came at him fast—screaming, fists flying.Juan ducked the first punch, drove his elbow into one man’s ribs, then grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him headfirst into the concrete wall. Blood sprayed.The third tackled him. They hit the floor hard, scuffling inches from where I was still crouched, useless and breathless.Juan’s gun skidded across the room.They rolled, fists landing heavy. The attacker got on top, tried to strangle him.Juan gritted out a growl, reached into his boot—and pulled a blade.Flash of silver. A quick jerk of his arm.The man froze.Then bled.A crimson line ope
His Heartbroken Surrogate TWENTY - EIGHT
CARA's POVThe first thing I felt was the cold.It seeped through the floor, up my back, into my bones like ice water. My head throbbed, each pulse sharp and angry at the base of my skull. My wrists were tied—ropes, rough and tight, cutting into my skin every time I shifted.I blinked against the dim light, the bare bulb overhead swinging slightly on a chain, casting long, distorted shadows along the cracked cement walls.The smell hit me next—rust, damp concrete, and something metallic.Blood.Not a lot. Just enough to make my stomach churn.Voices murmured in the distance. Male. Low and harsh. They echoed off the walls, making it impossible to tell how many there were.I turned my head slowly.Three of them.Men in sweat-stained tank tops, combat boots, arms roped with muscle and something darker—something coiled and ready to strike. One leaned against the far wall smoking, another sat on an overturned crate playing with a pocketknife.And the third paced.He was the only one who no
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