Accidentally Crossing the Tycoon Chapter 159

Audrey's POV:

"Emma." My voice dropped to a serious tone as I reached across the table and gently pushed her hand down.

"This isn't a joke. I need you to promise me you won't get involved in this situation. "

"No following Caspar, no threatening Amelia, no disappearing acts."

Emma rolled her eyes dramatically.

"You're no fun anymore, Audrey. Remember when we used to—"

"That's exactly what I'm trying to forget," I cut her off, my voice dropping to a whisper. "That life is behind us now."

Emma leaned back against the seat, studying me with those perceptive eyes.

"Fine," she conceded with a theatrical sigh.

"I'll be on my best behavior. Scout's honor." She raised three fingers in a mock salute.

"Then which hotel are we heading to?" Emma asked, a hint of mischief already creeping back into her voice.

I sighed, looking out the window. "The one you're dying to stay at."

Emma's face immediately lit up with a knowing grin.

"The Plaza? Oh, this is going to be fun."

---

The doorman greeted us with practiced politeness as we entered the opulent lobby of The Plaza.

After checking in, we took the elevator to our room on the twelfth floor.

The moment we stepped inside, I began my routine—checking the windows, the bathroom, the closets, even under the beds.

"Jesus, Audrey, you haven't changed that much after all," Emma remarked, throwing herself onto one of the queen beds.

"The room is clean. If it wasn't, I'd know."

I ignored her comment and pulled the curtains closed.

Emma propped herself up on her elbows.

"Did Amelia mention a specific time?"

"Eight o'clock," I replied automatically, then caught myself too late.

Emma's lips curved into a triumphant smile.

"Look at you, claiming not to care while having every detail memorized. You're not fooling anyone, Audrey Lane."

"I'm just being thorough," I replied, checking my phone for any messages from Caspar.

There were none.

"And I meant what I said earlier—stay out of this. "

"Yes, yes, I'll be a perfect angel," she said with exaggerated innocence, then rolled onto her stomach, chin propped on her hands.

"So when do I get to meet this mysterious Caspar Thornton? I'm dying to see what kind of man could possibly tame our Audrey Lane. "

"Is he gorgeous? Brilliant? Devastatingly charming? He must be something extraordinary to have you so..." she waved her hand vaguely, "invested."

I felt my defenses rise. "You'd better not see him."

"Why not?" Emma sat up, suddenly serious.

"Are you ashamed of me? Or are you ashamed of who you were when you were with me?"

I sat down on the edge of the other bed, facing her.

"Neither. Our world is dangerous. I don't want him anywhere near it."

A slow smile spread across Emma's face.

"You *love* him," she said, the realization dawning in her eyes. "You actually love this man."

"That's not relevant," I replied, but I could feel heat rising to my cheeks.

"It's completely relevant," Emma insisted.

"Does he know? About you, about London, about Jasper's medication?"

I shook my head. "I haven't told him yet."

Emma's eyes widened.

"Why not?" She leaned forward, studying my face. "Are you afraid he'll walk away once he knows the truth about you?"

I stared down at my hands, unable to meet her gaze.

"Audrey," she said softly, "if he'd abandon you over your past, over London and everything that happened with Jasper's medication... then he doesn't really love you. Not in the way you deserve."

I felt a knot tighten in my chest.

"I can't risk it, Emma. You know how dangerous our situation is."

"But—"

"No," I cut her off. "Some secrets are better left buried."

After a moment of tense silence, Emma sighed in resignation.

"Fine. Have it your way. But when this blows up in your face don't say I didn't warn you."

I didn't respond, instead turning my attention back to the window.

My eyes methodically scanned the street below, checking each parked car, each person lingering near the hotel entrance.

"I still don't like you staying here alone," I said, letting the curtain fall back into place. "It's too exposed."

Emma crossed her arms.

"I've managed to take care of myself for years, Audrey."

"That was before—" I stopped myself, an idea suddenly taking shape.

I dug through my bag, pushing aside my wallet and phone until my fingers closed around a small silver key I hadn't used in months.

"Here," I said, pressing the key into Emma's palm.

"This is my apartment."

Emma examined the key with raised eyebrows. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"If you notice anything off, or if you just get tired of staying in this hotel—go there," I said, writing the address on a slip of paper and tucking it beneath the key in her hand.

Emma's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"A safe house? In New York? "

"Just a precaution," I said quietly.

Emma followed me to the door but paused with her hand on the knob.

"You're really not going to stay and see if Caspar actually shows up to meet Amelia?"

I shook my head. "No."

"But aren't you curious? After everything Sienna implied..."

"I trust him, Emma."

I adjusted my bag on my shoulder.

"Even if they do meet today, I believe nothing will happen between them."

Emma studied my face. "That's... surprisingly confident, coming from you."

"I know." A small smile tugged at my lips.

"Well," Emma said, crossing her arms, "I hope your King C doesn't disappoint. Because if he betrays that trust you're putting in him..."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "I promise you, I'll make him regret it."

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Down, tiger. I appreciate the sentiment."

As I walked down the hotel corridor after saying goodbye, something about the pattern of the carpet caught my eye.

I faltered mid-step, my hand instinctively reaching for the wall to steady myself as a rush of memory blindsided me.

This hotel. This exact hotel.

*Five years ago.*

The plush carpet beneath unsteady feet.

A drink that tasted strange, but I finished, anyway.

The room spun.

A voice I couldn't quite place. A room key. Darkness punctuated by fragmented moments of awareness.

And then... nothing concrete until the next morning.

Waking up alone, disoriented, with only the vaguest recollection of what had happened. Of whom had happened.

Two weeks later, the pregnancy test. Positive.

I stood frozen in the corridor, my breathing shallow.

The child I had carried, had lost, had been conceived in this very building. With a man whose face I couldn't remember, whose name I never knew.

"Ma'am? Are you alright?"

A hotel staff member was watching me with concern.