AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Col:Truce.
I may be messed up in the head with this whole Col situation—and I am, maybe even more than I realise—so getting off with him is exactly the distraction I need. My issues will all be there, waiting for me, tomorrow.
I pick up the phone and hit the video call button.
21
Col
The truce is over.
Finished.
Dead and buried six feet under.
I look up at the glistening tower that is Australis Property Holdings, a.k.a. Dunlop Palmer's family's property development firm.
Since our video call two nights ago, Wilby has evaded me better than Kolby trying to get out of doing his homework.
He misses my calls. Answers texts vaguely, usually hours after I’ve sent them.
Well, no more.
I booked flights, got medicated, and have flown down to the Gold Coast. It's a shame I'm not here for a holiday—the endless miles of golden beaches I saw as we came in for landing looked very tempting. And everyone knows a picturesque view is just what you need to distract yourself from the imminent fireball of death you're desperately trying not to envision when the plane misses the runway resulting in a fatal calamity.
But this visit has got nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with throttling Wilby—I mean business.
I approach the sleek marble desk in the lobby. "Hi," I say with a friendly smile, sliding my hands over the cool surface. "I'm here to see Dunlop Palmer."
"Do you have an appointment?" the receptionist replies, barely glancing up at me.
"Well, see, here's the thing…"
He stops typing. "You'll need an appointment. Mr. Palmer is a very?—"
"Dunlop!" I call out, spotting him as he steps out from the elevator.
He turns around, and I stride over to him, telling myselfthiswas the very reason I spent an inordinate amount of time googling him and possibly following him on a few of his social channels. A few, not all. That makes it all right and perfectly normal, thank you very much. I'm not some jealous stalking lunatic.
"Hi," he says, staring at me like he's trying to place me.
I reach him and smile. "Hi, you don't know me. I'm Col Langdon. Wilby's…"
He starts nodding as a look of recognition crosses his face. But it also seems like he's not about to step in and finish that sentence for me, so I have to do it myself.
"…friend."
"Uh-huh." An eyebrow arches. "And what can I do for you, Col Langdon Wilby's friend?"
He can barely contain the amusement in his voice, which should irritate me but doesn't. Because if he knows who I am, that means Wilby told him about us. And Dunlop hasn't snapped his fingers to have me dragged away by security, so maybe it wasn't all bad?
"I'm trying to track him down. He's been a little unreceptive to my calls and emails."
"I see." Dunlop stalls, glancing around the foyer.
I take a moment to size him up. Yes, I know he's married, but…well, Wilby doesn't get exclusive rights on wanting to be better than previous people we've had sex with, or, in this case, kissed. I'm allowed to be just as petty and trivial.
Dunlop is one of the rare people who—annoyingly—actually looks better in real life than he does with the help of filters and good lighting in his social media posts. His dark hair is slicked back, he's got a perfectly structured olive-tanned face with a manicured beard and brown eyes, and by the way he fills his black power suit out, a banging body.
