Page 125 of Scandal
He groans. “How long is that flight?”
I let out a laugh. “Not that long.” It’s really long.
Just when I’m about to tell him about the benefits of flying first class, the door to the sitting room opens, and I turn around, expecting Asher.
But instead, I’m greeted by a security guard.
“Pardon, miss,” he says formally. It takes me a moment to recognize him. He’s blond, with fair hair and freckles. And he’s super tall, with long limbs and?—
“You’ve got really big hands.”
He seems a little taken aback by my strange observation, his eyes flicking to the phone held to my ear. Instead of acknowledging what I said, he simply ignores it altogether, which appears to be the staff’s usual response whenever I do something out of the ordinary.
Which is often…
“Lord Blackstone instructed me to come fetch you for a private afternoon on the grounds.”
“Sounds like I should let you go,” Cash says. “Go be romantic and shit.”
I smirk at the deadpan way he delivers it. “Love you. Bye,” I say and end the call. I stand, smoothing out my skirt, and turn toward the security guard.
“If you’ll follow me?”
I nod, but he’s already walking out the door.
“Okay…”
He moves quickly, and I’m almost panting by the time we exit the foyer, walk down the front stairs, and reach the black sedan parked near the side of the house instead of the usual front, where the driver waits.
That’s odd.
No Land Rover today?
“Did he tell you where he’s meeting us?” I ask. Then I turn to find him right behind me. He opens the car door without a word.
“Oh!” I nervously chuckle. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.”
I give the inside of the car a hesitant gaze. “It’s all right.”
“No, not for that,” he says, a second before he brings a cloth to cover my face. “For this.”
I barely have a chance to fight him before everything goes black.
Chapter Thirty
ASHER
I’ve wasted so much time…
Standing by my father’s bedside, I chastise myself for waiting so long to visit him. I’ve walked past this room more times than I can count, yet this is the first time I’ve managed to walk through those double doors.
“I’m sorry, Da,” I say, not sure if he can hear me, but I need to say it anyway.
The nurse who was here when I arrived told me that he sleeps more than he’s awake. The pain meds he’s on make him drowsy, and at this late stage, it’s more about keeping him comfortable than anything else.
Late stage…
