“I- I have a bad feeling,” I admit, knowing it sounds stupid.
“You never have feelings.”
“Lori, please. Can you go there now? Take off a few hours early to make up for it, I don’t care.”
“Okay, okay. I’m getting dressed.”
A small part of me eases. “Call me back on this number. My phone’s not working. And ask her if she’ll talk to me. Wake her if you have to. Please.” I still can’t rule out the possibility that she’s just mad.
“Aye aye, captain.”
I chuckle and hang up, catching Connor’s widened eyes.
“You begged her. I’ve never heard you beg.”
I make the mistake of looking out the window, a motorcycle dangerously close to us weaving in and out of traffic. “This is important.”
“She means that much to you?”
“Yes.” The word comes instinctively, an absolute certainty within me.
“Why didn’t you tell me? The last time you talked about her, you just said you were getting along well.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “Sorry I don’t talk to everyone about my feelings.” Talking about them with one person has been a revelation enough.
“I’m sure everything is fine. Maybe it’s a glitch in the service.”
I nod, knowing in my gut it isn’t. I could understand her phone being off if she was upset with our relationship, though that seems extreme. But that doesn’t explain why mine is too. Or why the message says they’re disconnected. She has zero control over our phone plan.
But I know someone who does.
“Have you heard anything about the buyout of Montague Media recently?” I ask, that unsettled sensation in my stomach growing stronger.
He scratches at his jaw. “Not any new developments. It’s still on track as far as I know. Why?”
I’m silent, mulling it over in my head.
“You think this is related to the buyout?” he asks, making the connection.
My fists clench reflexively. I have no proof other than a gut feeling, but I’d bet anything that private investigator found questionable activity from Montague Media.
“I don’t know.” I tap my leg with my thumb, my insides crawling with worry, even knowing it will take a bit for Lori to make her way over to my apartment. “Can I trust you with something?” I murmur, not wanting the driver to overhear.
“Of course,” he says without hesitation.
“This stays between the two of us.”
He swallows but nods. “I understand.”
We pull up to the hotel and I indicate for Connor to follow me to my room.
“I feel like I’m in a spy movie,” he comments as I stick my key card into the slot, the green light flashing.
A part of me feels that way too. Except this is real life. I bolt the door behind us and take a seat on the bed, still holding his phone in case Lori calls.
He pulls the single chair from the corner of the room over by me, settling in. “What is it?”
“I think Dad might be the one doing all this.”
“Dad cut your phones off? Why?”
“Remember how I told you last week about the department at Montague Media I suspected is fake and Dad hired a private investigator to look into it? That he wanted me to distance myself from Serena until we find out the truth?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I didn’t distance myself. I basically told him I wouldn’t ignore her. That my marriage isn’t only business anymore. That was my first mistake. Then he got mad when some gossip site posted another pic of us.” I mean, admittedly, we were making out on the street, but still. “That’s when he sent me over here.”
“I thought you were here to help with the bribing case.”
I throw my arms out. “What am I actually accomplishing by being here?” I swear Dad’s been throwing busywork at me to keep me occupied the last couple days. “You’re more than capable of handling this.”
His lips twist, acknowledging my point.
I take a deep breath, heading into conspiracy territory. “What if he really told me to come here to separate us?”
I have to give Connor credit because he connects the dots fast. “He wants to cut off communication between you two. Not in close proximity, opposite schedules, now no phone. Why’s he so serious about it?”
“He must be considering killing the deal.” It’s the only explanation I can come up with. “Why go to these lengths, though?”
“You’ll have to ask him.”
“Ask him? No. If he was the one who shut my phone off… he can’t know I’m on to him.”
“What, does he think you won’t notice your phone doesn’t work? Come on.”
“I’m keeping my cards close for now. If he’s going this far, I don’t know if I can trust him.” Did I ever, though?
Connor’s phone rings in my hand and I answer it.
“She’s not here,” Lori says.
My stomach drops. “You checked the whole apartment?”
“Yeah.”
No, she was supposed to be there. She should be sleeping in my bed right now.
Thoughts compete for space in my head, but the biggest thing isn’t that my dad’s involved. It’s that I was the one who ruined things. I should have explained to her the idea of love is hard for me. That I haven’t told anyone I loved them since Mom died. That we could go to that therapy she suggested together. That I could work through this.
It’s six-twenty in the morning there. Too early for her to have gone somewhere, especially if she normally sleeps in. “Does it look like she left? Packed a bag?”
“No. All her stuff is here. Her clothes, toothbrush, phone charger. You’d pack those things if you left.”
If she didn’t pack a bag and leave, then where the hell is she?
“Go downstairs. Ask the lobby attendant when was the last time he saw her. Have him call the night attendant if they’ve already switched shifts. Look at the camera footage. Something. I want to know where she is.”
“Archer, what’s going on? Why don’t you call her or something?”
“I can’t. Her phone’s off.”
“Listen, I’m not getting in the middle of some lover’s quarrel if that’s what’s happening here.”
I harden my tone. “Lori, as your employer, I’m asking you to go downstairs and do this, regardless of your personal thoughts on the matter.”
“Yes, sir.”
She hangs up, and while I hate to boss her around, even though I’m literally her boss, this is too important. Where is Serena?
Connor places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you try contacting her another way. Email her or something.”
I wince. “I… don’t know her email.”
He gives me a look which clearly conveys what an idiot I am. “You don’t know your wife’s email?”
The tips of my ears burn hot. “I’ve never had to email her, okay? It’s only been a couple of weeks. I usually see her every day.”
“Social media then. She has a ThousandWords profile, right?”
“I don’t think she uses it. She gave over control of the account to Dad’s PR team a while ago.”
She wouldn’t have gone into work at the shelter this early, would she? I pull up Connor’s browser and google it, but it lists the operating hours as opening at ten a.m. I call, but it only gives me a recorded message saying the same thing. That’s three and a half hours from now. I can’t wait that long.
I get up and pace the room, across the length of the bed to the bathroom, then return the other way. Blowing out a breath, I cup the back of my neck, a sick sensation in my stomach rising. What’s taking Lori so long?
Connor calmly hands me the phone as it rings again, my palms sweaty as I take it from him.
“I have bad news,” she says, the most serious I’ve ever heard her.
I brace a hand on the bedside table, my knees faltering. “What is it?”
“The guy that
’s on duty now wasn’t there when it happened, but he was told that two police officers escorted Serena out of the building last night. And the attendant received a call from the manager to collect her key on her way out.”
What the actual fuck? Both our phones aren’t working and she was removed from the premises? By the police? This has gone too far.
She’s not absent because she chose to leave. Someone made her. And the only person who has the legal right to evict someone is the owner.
Dad.
“I tried calling her phone and it wasn’t just off,” she continues, “it was disconnected. Where is she?”
“I don’t know.” My heart races as I pace the room again, unable to stay still. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“Well, you better get back here and find her. From the conversations we’ve had, it doesn’t sound like she has anyone else she can turn to.”
Where would she go then? Did she get a hotel? Stay with a friend? Where do I even start? How am I supposed to track her down? It’s a city of over eight million people. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack. “I’ll figure it out,” I tell Lori. “But don’t mention to anyone we talked, okay? If my father contacts you for any reason, you haven’t spoken to me since I left.”
“You think your fa-”
“No questions. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just there to do your job.”
“Got it,” she says, a slight waver in her voice.
“I’ll give you an update when I find out more.”
“Okay.”
I hang up and turn to Connor. “That goes for you too. You don’t know anything about this situation.”
“What are you going to do?”
He clearly overheard the conversation, so there’s no use hiding it from him. I can’t sit idly by if Serena’s gone. “I’m going to New York.”
“But Dad-”
“I don’t give a fuck about Dad,” I explode, nearly at my wit’s end. I grip the back of my neck so I won’t hurl the alarm clock across the room or punch the wall above the bed. I haven’t felt this kind of impotent rage in a long time. Not since Mom died. I shut down then, but right now, I’m pure emotion.
His eyes widen, wisely staying silent.
I jab a finger in his direction, still pacing. “I bet you more than anything this was Dad. I know how his mind works. You haven’t directly worked with him like I have. There’s nothing he loves more than destroying the competition, especially if they’ve slighted him.”
“Who’s he competing against?”
“Greg Montague. If that P.I. found out he was cooking the books, there’s no doubt Dad would take it personally.”
“But he’s doing this to Serena.”
“Greg wanted her to marry into our family for the connections. You split us up and boom, no more connections. And Greg needs money. Bad. I’m sure of it. I can guarantee you Dad will do everything he can to blacklist Montague Media too. No one will work with them or buy them. They’ll go bankrupt by the end of the year.”
“Doesn’t he care that he’s hurting you?”
I pause in my pacing, looking at Connor. God, there’s so much of Mom in him. “No. He doesn’t care. He gave an edict and expects it to be followed. Feelings don’t come into play as far as he’s concerned.”
He bows his head, his chin nearly touching his chest. “Like with Gabriel.”
“Exactly.” I grab my suitcase and lay it on the bed, unzipping it and stuffing the closest things at hand inside. “Tell Dad you don’t know where I am if anyone reports I’m not here. You’re just as confused as him about where I’ve gone.”
He nods.
“And don’t defend me. It’ll only set him off. I don’t want you mixed up in this.”
“Do you know what you’re doing? Have you thought about what he might do?”
I open the dresser drawer, pulling an armful of clothes out to chuck in the suitcase. “I’m prepared to accept whatever happens.” And it’s the truth. I can’t live my life under his thumb. Not after discovering how my life could be with Serena.
“All right. What can I do to help?”
“Find me the next flight to New York.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Serena
I startle, a long string of drool stretching from my mouth to my arm where my head was just resting. Gross. I wipe it away, the sound that must have woken me happening again, like someone pounding on glass.
It’s dark around me, the only source of light coming from the windows along one wall, and I instinctively turn in that direction before remembering where I am. Slumped over my desk at the shelter, eventually passing out after hours of exhaustion worrying about what tomorrow will bring.
There’s more banging and I realize it’s coming from downstairs. Is someone at the outside door? It’s the middle of the night.
I stretch, my back popping as I stand. I can’t afford to spend another night here for the sake of my spine, but I also literally can’t afford to go anywhere else. I have less than a thousand dollars to my name, including the check from Mr. Bishop I cashed today. A hotel room would easily eat through that in a week. I need to be smart with my money. After the twists and turns my life has taken lately, I can’t take anything for granted.
I descend the stairs carefully, pausing as the sound of banging on the front door echoes through the lobby. Is it a drunk person? Who would expect us to be open this late? A part of me wants to go get the night worker, but I never interact with them and the kennel’s on the other side of the building, too far away for them to hear. I’d have to pass in front of the entrance anyway.
I peek my head around the corner of the stairwell, spotting a tall form standing outside. Even in the moonlight, it’s easy to make out the dark hair, muscular build, and tailored clothes. I rub at my eyes, sure I’m not seeing things right, and as the figure raises an arm to pound on the door once again, he pauses, looking in my direction.
My hand flies to my mouth to contain my gasp, my feet moving toward him on their own, stopping in front of the glass door. I gaze at Archer, his face weary, thick stubble dotting his jaw.
“Open the door,” he says, his voice slightly muffled through the glass, and my head tilts down, eyes fixating on the lock, but it’s like my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders.
“What are you doing here?” I ask instead, half sure I’m in a waking dream. He’s supposed to be in the Philippines, not here in Manhattan standing in front of my shelter in the middle of the night.
“Open the door,” he repeats, an edge to his voice now.
My arms cross over my chest, hiding my trembling hands. “Why should I? You promised-” I swallow heavily, forcing the words out. “You promised you wouldn’t leave and then you did just that.”
His jaw clenches, lips set mutinously. “Serena, I’ve been going nonstop for the past eighteen and a half hours to get to you. Open the damn door.”
His words don’t register, the hopeless anger and resentment that’s been building inside all day gushing out. “I trusted you. I thought we were on the same page. But you were investigating my family, trying to back out of the deal. If you didn’t want to be with me, you only had to say that. You didn’t have to go to such lengths.”
He grips the door handle, brows furrowed. “The business has nothing to do with us.”
“It has everything to do with us,” I cry, throwing my hands up. “You didn’t even tell me we’re not really married.”
He takes a step back, blinking hard. “What are you talking about?”
His confusion seems too genuine to be an act. Wait, did he not know that? “We never applied for a license with our names on them and remarried.”
He shakes his head, denying my words. “No, Dad said he’d get a judge to change…” He trails off, mouth twisting bitterly. “He never did that, did he?”
“I-” My hand comes up to cover my gasp, my head finally clearing. “Why are you here?”
“I thought I was rescuing you.”
Rescuing me? But it was him who did this.
I stare at him through the glass, a dawning realization coming over me. Oh my God, I’m an idiot. “Was anything your father said true?”
“My father? You spoke to him?”
“I went and visited him this morning.”
His posture stiffens. “What did he say?”
I relay everything that happened, his expression growing darker the longer I continue. “He blamed me? For stranding you with no phone? Having the police kick you out of our home?”
“Y-yes.” In the wake of his obvious disgust, it seems foolish to have ever let his father plant the seed of doubt in my mind.
“And you believed him?”
I unlock the door, my lower lip trembling as I take a step through the doorway, tears forming in my eyes. “I didn’t want to. It seemed so impossible. But I couldn’t call you. Couldn’t ask you.” The tears break free from my lashes, dripping down my cheeks. “And we had just had that awkward end to our conversation. I thought I’d ruined everything.” I sniffle, the tears coming faster now, stronger, clogging my nose, blocking my throat. “I wanted to ask you what I’d done wrong. I’m sorry I told you I love you-”
I sag in relief as he crushes me to him, wrapping me in his strong embrace. I inhale, breathing him in shakily, throwing my arms over those broad shoulders to hug him tight.
“You never have to apologize for that,” he whispers fiercely, stroking a palm down my hair. “It was one of the best things anyone’s ever said to me.” His hand rubs slow circles on my back until I calm down some, the tears a mere trickle now. “It caught me off guard in the moment, but I thought about it a lot on the plane ride over, and I’m really glad you said it. I needed to hear it. I… I haven’t in a long time.”
I scrub at my eyes, clearing them, pressing my ear against his chest to listen to the deep rumble of his voice. “I love you,” I murmur, letting myself truly relax in his arms for the first time in days.
His grip tightens on me briefly, but his body doesn’t stiffen. If anything, he seems to further embrace me. “I tried texting you last night. To apologize, to tell you how much I missed you. When I couldn’t get hold of you, when I found out you were gone, the only thing on my mind was regret for how I left things between us. The truth is, I’m falling for you too. Hard.” He leans back, cupping my face, the blue of his eyes intense as they study me. “I’ve never felt this way about anybody. But the words… I need some time for those.”
Marrying the Billionaire (Bishop Brothers Book 2) Page 21
