Heiress in Disguise

ALEX’s POV

I was woken by a loud metallic slam, the kind that rattled through my bones. My head jerked up from my knee, stiff neck protesting, and I blinked blearily at the bars.

I guess I was too exhausted from the chase that I managed to sleep soundly even in a stupid position. But I pushed myself off the wall, stretched, and tried to clear my vision.

One of the cops stood by the opened cell door, clipboard in hand. “Carter!” he called out and my eyes wandered toward him. “Ivy Alexandria Carter.”

My stomach flipped at the sound of the name. That was my full name. Government-use-only name.

“You made bail.”

I blinked again, trying to shake off the sleep fog. “I—what? Bail? Me?”

The other detainees looked at me like I’d just won the lottery. And in a way, I guess I had. The only problem? I didn’t have a ticket. So, I don’t know how the hell that happened.

As I got to my feet, my brain spun in a dozen directions. Bail? Who the hell would pay for me? The people I knew barely scraped enough to put food on the table, let alone buy my dumb ass out of jail.

The cop didn’t care about my confusion though. He opened the cell, shoved me toward the exit, and the next thing I knew, I was out in the blinding, too-clean lobby.

That’s when I froze.

Waiting for me were three men in identical black suits, crisp white shirts, matching black ties, and sunglasses so shiny I could see my bedraggled reflection in them. They were all lined up like guards from a spy movie.

But it was the man standing in front of them that made my stomach sink further. He was older, maybe late fifties, with graying hair slicked back so neatly it didn’t dare move. His suit wasn’t just expensive, it screamed money. The kind of suit that could pay rent for half the year.

He looked me over, expression unreadable. Then he spoke.

“You’re Ivy Alexandria Carter?”

I turned my head slowly, eyes darting toward the cops behind me. For one wild second, I was sure they’d sold me off. Mafia, human trafficking, rich-guy cult, take your pick.

I swallowed. “Depends who’s asking.”

His lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “We need you to come with us.”

Every instinct in me screamed run. But I guess even the guards could read through my expression what I had been planning on doing.

Almost immediately, the men in suits closed in on me. One on each side, one at my back, like I was some VIP who’d accidentally wandered out of the limo and into the gutter. Except instead of escorting me politely, they practically frog-marched me toward a sleek black car waiting at the curb.

“Hey!” I twisted in their grip, stumbling as my sneakers dragged against the pavement. “This is kidnapping! Actual, felony-level kidnapping!”

“Calm down,” the older man said smoothly, as if I were making a fuss over a spilled drink instead of being abducted in broad daylight. And in front of a police station at that.

“Calm down?” I barked as soon as I was in the car with him. “I can’t calm down! I still have things to do. A bag to pack. A life to—oh, I don’t know—live? Plus, I’ve got to find myself some work later.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t scold me. Instead, he reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a thick wad of cash, and peeled off bills like it was nothing. He held it out to me. “Ten thousand. Would that be enough?”

My mouth went dry. I’d never seen that kind of money outside of a TV show. Ten grand. In my hand. For a second, my brain short-circuited. Pack my bag? Work? Who was I kidding? Screw the bag. Screw the job. Screw everything. I clutched the money, rolled it, and tucked it inside my pocket like it might vanish if I blinked.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to sit still in the car seat, hands pressed tightly over the stack of bills. “Yeah. This could be enough.”

The engine to the Rolls Royce hummed to life, and the city rolled away behind us. My heart hammered, not sure if I’d just been bribed, adopted, or enrolled into some cult. But doesn’t matter. I’ll just escape if it’s some shady ass deal. It’s not like I haven’t done that before.

“So,” I said, trying to sound casual even though my voice cracked, “where are we going again?”

The man smoothed his tie, eyes flicking toward me. “Back to Manhattan.”

I frowned. “What’s that?”

His head turned sharply, eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “New York City.”

“Oh.” I sank back in the leather seat, gripping the cash tighter. “Yeah. Sure. Totally knew that. Definitely not geography-challenged.”

The man didn’t respond, but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch. If it was into a frown or a smile, I don’t know.

But wait. Hold on. Rewind.

Did he just say New York City?

I sat up straighter. “Uh—sorry, I must’ve misheard. Did you say Manhattan? As in the place where the series Friends was shot?”

“Yes.” His tone was clipped, like the word was carved out of granite.

“Funny thing,” I said, my voice going high and thin. “Because unless I missed a memo, we’re in Chicago. Windy City. Deep dish. Bean statue. Definitely not the same state, let alone the same time zone.”

The suited guy in the front passenger seat didn’t turn around, but I swore I saw his shoulders shake like he was trying not to laugh.

My heart rate spiked, full-blown panic simmering under my skin. “You can’t just take me across the country. That’s called human trafficking, and I’m not interested in becoming a Dateline episode, thanks.”

The man beside me didn’t flinch. “You’re not being trafficked. You’re being escorted.”

“Oh, great. That makes it sound so much better,” I snapped. “Escorted where? To your evil lair? Secret underground lab? Am I getting dissected? Because if so, fair warning, I eat way too much junk food for my organs to be useful.”

Finally, he turned his head, calm and steady. “You’ll find out soon enough. Until then, sit still.”

I opened my mouth, closed it, then leaned back against the leather seat, muttering under my breath. “Yeah. Sure. Just gonna sit here quietly while I’m illegally kidnapped across state lines. Totally normal Tuesday.”

After twenty or so minutes, the car made a sharp turn to the right. I squinted at the sign at the end of the road. It seems to me that we’re in a private airstrip. I turned to the guy beside me. He didn’t even looked concerned.

Wow. They really must be rich.

Two men in collared uniforms opened the gates and the car rolled past them. Two more minutes later and a plane was already visible from where I sat. And it wasn’t just any plane.

The plane was massive, the kind you only ever saw in one of those Hollywood movies. Sleek navy stretched across its body, the word ‘Harrington’ painted in crisp gold letters along the side, a crest gleaming on the tail.

I furrowed my eyebrows at this. “Harrington?” I asked as I was instructed to get out of the car.

The man with me gave me a curt nod. “I assume you are familiar with the name?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, I may be dirt poor but we get some cable at our orphanage, too.” I glanced up at the word again. “Isn’t that a family name?”

“Yes.”

“Billionaires?”

“Yes.”

I gulped. “What would a billionaire want from me?”

He stopped midway from entering the plane and looked down at me. I stopped on my tracks too, staring back at him from several steps behind.

“You sure do have a lot of questions.”

“You at least owe me that for the kidnapping.”

He seemed to not like the sound of ‘kidnapping’, his face pulling into a slight frown as he entered the cabin. I was ushered in, too.

But if the outside of the plane was already impressive, the inside was near jaw-dropping.

Stepping in felt like walking into another world. Cream leather seats faced each other across polished walnut tables, thick rugs cushioning my every step. Toward the center was a polished bar stocked with crystal bottles and trays of food, a crew member stationed behind it.

I quickly tailed the old man, sitting across from him once he’s chosen his seat. He just gave me a blank look, fished out his phone, and dialed a number. It didn’t even finish ringing when someone already answered.

I couldn’t hear what the other person was saying but the old man, his eyes still on me, just said, “She’s here.”

Now, I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed but I’m fairly sure that he was talking about me. That thought made me uneasy. But I guess I’m easy to please because after thirty minutes, with all the attention and food I’m getting, that feeling vanished like it never came.

I stuffed the third serving of fillet mignon that was given to me into my mouth and nodded in satisfaction, not even paying any mind to the old man who was staring at me with mild disgust and embarrassment.

He pushed a glass of water toward me and cleared his throat. “You better slow down. It’d be a shame if you die before we get there.”

I drank the water and gobbled down the next set of food just as fast that by the time we finally landed, my head was swirling. They gave me some time to vomit in the bathroom, wash my face, and change my clothes.

As we drove through the streets of New York, I kept my eyes peeled on the view. I’ve never been here before. I’ve only ever seen this place in magazines and movies. Now, I may not survive from whatever this business is, but hey, at least I got my fair share of heaven. It may have been quick but—

“We’re here.”

The old man’s voice cut through my thoughts as a tall building rolled into view. I pressed my face against the car’s window but still couldn’t see the top.

“What is this place?”

“This, Miss Carter, is the Harrington Group.”

My eyebrows creased. “Group of what?”

“Group of Companies.”