Closing In

Closing In
~James Pov

I drove to Elena's estate at 12 AM, not caring about the inappropriate hour. The security guards recognized my car and waved me through without question—still playing the role of devoted fiance, even at this ungodly hour.

The mansion was lit up like a monument to excess, every window glowing gold against the darkness. Elena never did sleep much. Too busy plotting her next move, her next acquisition, her next victory.

I found her in her father's study, surrounded by three men in expensive suits. They glanced up when I entered, their expressions ranging from annoyed to amused. Elena, however, didn't even flinch.

"Gentlemen," she said smoothly, "if you'll excuse us. My fiance requires attention."

They filed out like well-trained soldiers, though not before I caught the knowing looks they exchanged. Everyone knew this engagement was a business arrangement, but we all pretended otherwise.

When we were alone, Elena poured herself a glass of wine.

"James." She didn't turn around. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

"Someone tried to grab Anna tonight."

Now she turned, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised. "How unfortunate. Is she hurt?"

"Your cousin was there. Jamal."

Something flickered in her eyes—surprise? Calculation? It was gone before I could identify it.

"Jamal? He's in New York?"

"You didn't know?"

Elena laughed. "James, darling, I haven't spoken to Jamal in three years. We had a... disagreement about family business. If he's dating your little actress, that's his concern, not mine."

"This isn't a coincidence—"

"Of course it's not, maybe all the Santos family is plotting against you or what do you think. See "I'm focused on our wedding. The merger. My father's approval. I don't have time to orchestrate elaborate schemes involving my estranged cousin."

"If I find out you're lying—"

"You'll what?" Her voice turned cold. "Call off the engagement? We both know you can't. You need me more than I need you."

She was right, and we both knew it. I turned to leave.

"James?" she called after me. "You might need to be careful, next time I might not let you off easily."

I left without responding, her laughter following me into the night.

\---

My phone rang as I sat in my car, trying to process the evening's chaos. Unknown number.

"James Reynolds?"

"Who is this?"

"Jennifer Hayes, Entertainment Weekly. We need to talk."

My grip tightened on the phone. Jennifer Hayes was notorious for her exposés on powerful men. She'd taken down senators, CEOs, anyone with secrets worth selling papers.

"I have nothing to say to the press—"

"Not even about your three calls to Anna Chen tonight? While your fiancée was hosting a business meeting?"

My blood went cold. "How do you—"

"I make it my business to know things, Mr. Reynolds. Especially about powerful men with... complicated issues." Her voice was soft. "I've been trying to interview Anna for days. She won't return my calls. But tonight, something interesting happened. She was nearly kidnapped. And you knew it was going to happen."

"I didn't—"

"You called to warn her. Three times. Which means you knew she was in danger. The question is: how did you know?"

"This is none of your business."

"Oh, but it is. You see, I specialize in exposing the dark secrets of wealthy men. And you, Mr. Reynolds, are a goldmine. The billionaire who raised his stepdaughter, only to fall in love with her? And now you're marrying Elena Santos to, what, protect Anna? Or protect yourself?"

"What do you want?"

"The truth. All of it. Because I'm going to write this story with or without your cooperation. And depending on how you play this, it could be about a man trying to protect someone he loves... or about a predator who groomed his ward."

The threat was clear. Play ball, or be destroyed.

"Stay away from Anna."

"Then give me something better. The Santos family, for instance. They have their own secrets, don't they? Wouldn't it be delicious to take down two corrupt dynasties with one story?" She paused. "I'm actually glad you're marrying Elena. Two birds, one stone, as they say."

"You don't know what you're dealing with."

"Don't I? Think about it, James. You have 24 hours. Then I publish what I have. And trust me, what I have will destroy that sweet little actress's career before it even begins."

She hung up.

I sat there, mind racing. Jennifer Hayes didn't make idle threats. If she was circling, she smelled blood in the water. And she wouldn't stop until she had her story.

My phone buzzed. A text from Jennifer.

PS - Ask yourself why someone would want to kidnap Anna. What does she have that's worth that risk? Or what does someone think she has? Sweet dreams, Mr. Reynolds.

She was right about one thing. None of this made sense unless Anna had something valuable. Or someone thought she did.

Maybe Vanessa would have answers. She'd been sniffing around for money since the engagement announcement—maybe she knew more than she'd let on.

I called her number. It rang once, then went to voicemail.

"Vanessa, it's James. Call me back. It's about Anna."

I tried again. This time it went straight to voicemail. That was odd. Vanessa never turned off her phone—she was always available for the right price.

Something felt wrong.

I called Marcus.

"It's late, James," he answered on the second ring, but his voice was alert. He never really slept either.

"I need you to find Vanessa Chen."

"Vanessa? Why?"

"Someone tried to kidnap Anna tonight. Maybe Vanessa knows why."

"On it. Last known location?"

"She was staying at the Marriott downtown, Four Seasons. Room 1247."

"Give me twenty minutes."

It only took him fifteen.

"James, this is strange. Vanessa checked out two days ago, but here's the thing—the hotel says she left in a hurry. Left half her belongings behind."

"What kind of belongings?"

"Clothes, toiletries, jewelry... and a laptop. Still in the room safe."

"Get it."

"That's not exactly legal—"

"I don't care. Something's wrong, Marcus. Vanessa doesn't leave without her things. And she definitely doesn't leave without getting paid what she thinks she's owed."

"You think something happened to her?"

"I think she was either running from something... or someone made her run."