Chapter 186
Julie's POV
I was about to leave the office when I glimpsed Andrew through the crack of his private office door, on the phone, adjusting his tie with that particular satisfied expression he wore when he thought he was being clever. His demeanor set off alarm bells in my mind.
The conversation I overheard made my blood run cold. Grace. NaturaLuxe. Some kind of setup involving Richard and Laura.
I have to warn her, I thought frantically, but then I heard footsteps in the hallway. Andrew was coming out.
When he saw me, his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Julie? What are you doing here so late?"
"Just... passing by on my way out," I managed to say, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt. "Working late again?"
He studied my face for a long moment, and I forced myself to meet his gaze without flinching.
"Something like that." His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it that made my skin crawl.
My heart was still racing as Andrew walked me to the underground garage. The casual way he'd suggested giving me a ride home made my skin crawl, especially after what I'd overheard.
"So," Andrew said, his voice echoing in the concrete space, "heading straight home?"
I forced a smile, fumbling for my keys. "Actually, I was wondering... do you have any plans tonight? Business dinners or anything?"
His response was typically Andrew—brief and evasive. "Hmm." A pause. "Yes." Another pause. "Something like that."
Something like that. I needed more information, but pushing too hard would raise suspicion. Grace had to know what was coming.
"Well, I won't keep you then," I said, moving toward my car.
"Actually," Andrew's voice stopped me cold, "I'll give you a ride. It's on my way."
---
Andrew's POV
I watched Julie's expression carefully. The slight tension around her eyes, the way her grip on her car keys shifted—she was nervous. Good. If she'd been eavesdropping, this would flush her out.
The ride started quietly. Julie sat rigidly in the passenger seat, occasionally glancing at me with what she probably thought was subtle curiosity. I kept my responses brief, watching her grow more agitated with each non-committal answer.
When we reached the intersection, I made my move.
"Actually," I said, jerking the wheel hard left, "I have some urgent business to handle. You're coming with me."
"What?" Julie's voice pitched higher. "Andrew, just let me out here. I can walk—"
"Don't be ridiculous." I activated the central locking system with a soft click. "Just ten minutes."
She pulled at the door handle, panic creeping into her movements. "Andrew, stop the car. Let me out."
I pressed harder on the accelerator, watching her struggle with the locked door in my peripheral vision.
Her phone appeared in her hands—probably trying to send some urgent warning to Grace. Not happening.
I snatched the device before she could react.
"You can't just—"
"Can't I?" I drove faster, enjoying the growing fear in her voice. "Because it seems your loyalties lie elsewhere."
"What are you going to do?"
I let the question hang in the air. Fear was a powerful motivator, and right now, I needed her afraid.
"That depends," I said finally, "on how cooperative you're feeling."
---
The Crown Hotel's underground garage was dimly lit and eerily quiet. I parked in a secluded corner where two men in black suits were already waiting.
"Ms. Brown," one of them said politely as Julie's door opened, "please come with us."
"Andrew," she turned to me desperately, "what are you doing?"
I stepped out of the car, adjusting my tie. "You're going to be our guest for a while, Julie. Just until we sort out this little misunderstanding."
"Guest?" She struggled against the men's grip. "This is kidnapping! You can't just—"
"Actually, I can." The words felt satisfying on my tongue. "This hotel belongs to Wilson Holdings. You could scream until your throat bleeds, and no one would lift a finger to help you."
I watched her face crumble as reality hit her.
As they led her toward the service elevator, she looked at me one last time.
"She'll figure it out," she said with surprising steadiness. "Grace is smarter than you think."
I smiled. "We'll see."
---
Half an hour later, I was adjusting my cufflinks in the Crown Hotel's top-floor revolving restaurant. The private dining room offered a spectacular view of the city, and my dinner companions had already arrived.
Laura sat elegantly across from me in a navy blue dress. Beside her, Richard looked like a man barely holding himself together—which, considering recent events, was probably accurate.
"Mr. and Mrs. Harrison," I said, extending my hand with practiced charm. "Andrew Wilson, Vice President of Wilson Holdings Group."
Richard's expression shifted slightly at the title. Good. Let him understand exactly who he was dealing with. This wasn't Grace making personal investments—this was Wilson Holdings corporate strategy, with me at the helm.
"I must say," I continued, settling into my chair, "it's refreshing to meet business partners who understand that commerce is like warfare, and fortune favors the bold."
"Mr. Wilson, is it just us tonight?" Richard asked.
"Yes, my apologies for the modest reception. After we sign the contract tomorrow, we'll have a proper celebration."
Laura smiled politely, but I could see the calculation in her eyes.
"We're grateful for Wilson Holdings' interest in our project," she said carefully.
The conversation flowed smoothly—Laura discussing market penetration strategies, Richard occasionally contributing insights about consumer psychology—when my phone buzzed.
The caller ID made my stomach drop.
"Excuse me," I said to my dinner companions, "just a moment."
I stepped away from the table, noting how both Richard and Laura watched me with curious eyes.
"This better be important," I said into the phone.
"Sir, Miss Brown has been rescued."
Damn. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, alarm bells were screaming.