"Hello, brother," Iris said casually.

"What the hell is going on here?" Sean asked.

​​

Catherine felt his arms tighten protectively around her as he spoke, and she leaned into him—relaxing against the support of his chest.

"And what the fuck is wrong with my wife?" he asked. "She's covered in blood and barely conscious. Look at her!"

"Sean, take a deep breath," Iris said, her voice calm and even. "And please, remember, don't shoot the messenger."

"Out with it," he shouted.

"Catherine and Marco were trying to elope," she said. She turned and pointed to Marco, who collapsed on the tarmac. "See, he's over there."

Sean's arm tightened again, pulling her painfully close. His entire body was rigid with tension and anger, and his chest heaved against her.

"No," he said, taking a deep breath. "That can't be true. She's handcuffed, and I saw her running from Glen."

"Well, it's a complicated story," Iris said.

"Shut up," Sean snapped.

He adjusted his hands and scooped Catherine into his arms, cradling her against his chest bridal style. He began to walk toward Marco, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. The collar of his shirt rubbed against her cheek, and his unique smell filled her nose. She took a deep breath—he smelled clean and masculine—it was strangely comforting.

Suddenly he stopped moving, and she opened her eyes and looked down. Marco was at his feet and scrambled into a sitting position with his face twisted full of fear.

"She's lying," Marco said. "I swear to God. I was not eloping with her. She was brought here after I was here, and she was wearing handcuffs. She told me she'd been kidnapped. At first, I thought she was fucking with me, but then I saw how they treated her. They're framing us, I swear! Please have mercy."

"You're lying," Iris said.

"No, I swear, I'm not," Marco groaned. "Listen, she told me her sister-in-law had kidnapped her. If this woman is her sister-in-law, that proves my story, right? I swear I've never seen her before in my life, so the only way I could—"

"Shut up," Iris said. "Sean, you have to listen to me because there's a perfectly logical explanation."

"You never knew when to give up, Iris," Sean said. "Now I won't ask again, tell me the truth."

Iris's eyes flickered with indecision, and then her lip curled into a sneer. She reached into her bag and pulled out Catherine's ring. She thrust it into the air, and the diamond sparkled and glittered in the bright, golden sun.

"You want the truth?" she said. "Okay. I was trying to spare your feelings, but here it is. Here's the truth. I met her for tea so we could talk and so I could try to understand her better—you know I've always had a bad feeling about her. Well, anyway, as we were chatting, she confessed that she's miserable with you. She even took the ring off and threw it on the ground."

"She's lying," Catherine whispered. "I didn't take it off."

"Think about it, Sean," Iris said. "She took it off once before. Don't you think she could do it again?"

Sean's body tensed, and Catherine winced as his arm crushed her injured ankle. He looked down at her in concern and loosened his grip.

"I'm okay," she whispered.

"Give me the ring, Iris," he said. "And give me the keys to these handcuffs."

"Mr. Blair, please, you have to believe me," Marco said. "I have nothing to do with this. One minute I was in the car with Levi on the way here, and the next, she was walking into the airport lounge, like something out of my worst nightmares. I'm innocent, I swear."

"You're not innocent," Iris said. "You planned this."

"How could I plan this?" Marco groaned. "From the day they caught me, they had my phone. How could I have contacted Catherine?"

Catherine blinked in surprise. Something about Marco's words sounded strange, but her sluggish, drugged mind couldn't figure it out. She closed her eyes to concentrate, and it hit her—right after the failed elopement, Marco had called her and tried to convince her to run away with him again. But he said that Sean's men had taken his phone. Her mind struggled to make the connection, and she gasped as she finally understood. Marco's call had been a test. Sean must have given him the phone and ordered him to make the call—he'd probably been listening to the whole thing.

Her stomach twisted, and she wished Sean would put her down. She'd always known he was jealous and controlling, but she couldn't believe he'd been that manipulative.

"Where the hell is Levi?" he asked. "He has some explaining to do."

Moments later, a figure appeared jogging toward them—Levi. He looked at Sean and his face registered shock and fear before he blinked and frowned.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"That's exactly what I want to know," Sean said.

"I saw an issue with the jet, and I—" Levi began.

"Cut the crap," Sean said. "I'm not interested in your story right now. Just bring my sister and Marco back to my house, and I swear, if anything strange happens along the way—you'll pay twice the price."

With that, Sean turned his back on them all and carried her across the tarmac. They finally arrived at his car, and he gently lowered her into the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt across her chest. Taking the key he'd gotten from Iris, he unlocked the handcuffs and examined her bruised, chafed wrists. His eyes darkened, but he didn't say a word. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the window as he drove. She only opened her eyes as she felt his arms lift her from the seat.

He carried her into a hospital, and a nurse in neatly pressed scrubs was waiting for them at the door. She led them down a maze of bright hallways into an examination room where a doctor with wire-rimmed glasses organized a tray of instruments.

"What seems to be the matter with her?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," Sean said, his voice strained. "She's covered in blood and cuts, and she can barely stay conscious. I couldn't get her to tell me what happened."

"Well, let's take a look," the doctor said.

Sean placed her on the examination table, and she blinked and tried to smile at the doctor.

"There was an accident," she whispered.

"An accident?" Sean repeated, sounding strangled.

"Car," Catherine murmured.

"Shh," the doctor said. "Don't strain yourself. Let me take a look at your wounds, and then you can explain, okay?"

Catherine nodded. The doctor began to dab and wipe at her skin with a cold, wet gauze that smelled strongly antiseptic. The cuts on her skin stung and burned, and she tried not to flinch. When he got to her cut hand, she couldn't help herself and pulled it away from him with a jerk.

"Hmm," he said. "Most of the cuts are very superficial, but this one is much worse."

"Does it need stitches?" Sean asked.

"Hmm," the doctor said. "Listen, dear, I know it hurts, but give me your hand so I can clean it."