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He hung up, resolving to ring Sara back as soon as he could, then took off after Everly. She must have heard the worst possible part of the conversation and coupled it with that fucking report he’d ordered. Now he had to find a way to make her understand. At this point, he hoped she’d even talk to him.
As he dashed to the front of the penthouse, he found Roman staring out at the private elevator door that only opened here and on the ground floor. Guests needed a code to come to Connor’s place . . . but anyone could go to the lobby. “What the fuck happened?”
“Shit. She ran off?” Gabe had expected her to be angry, upset. He’d suspected he’d be dealing with tears. He’d never imagined that she’d be impulsive enough to run. His whole body went into a deep freeze. “How the hell did she get that report? Where’s Connor?”
Roman’s eyes widened. “She saw the PI report? Fuck me. She must have walked in after Connor went to take a shower. I was trying to hunt down some breakfast. Shit. It was sitting on the table.”
Gabe didn’t reply. He was already out the door.
ELEVEN
Everly willed the elevator to move faster. The folder in her hand practically shook with her rage. God, he must think she was so stupid. The whole time he’d been telling her how much he needed her, he’d had an investigator pulling up all the worst parts of her past.
And those rumors about her dad. She knew who they came from—an ex-con her father had put away. He and his lawyer had tried every dirty trick they knew to get the conviction overturned.
While these rumors are likely untrue, the subject has a soft spot for her late father, according to many sources. Threats of ruining his reputation might silence her on the subject of her relationship with Maddox Crawford.
Or it might have the effect of her shoving something so far up Gabriel Bond’s ass he could never see straight again.
She’d climbed out of bed all but humming and come down the stairs with a satisfied smile.
After the night she’d spent with Gabriel, she’d been on top of the world. Cloud nine. Nothing would get in her way. She’d walked downstairs, ready to work. She needed to see if the receipts from the coffee shop had yielded any leads on her mystery informant. The text from last night had been a bust. She’d already traced it to a burner phone.
She’d gone downstairs, ready to give Gabriel every shred of evidence she had. Connor seemed to know a lot about hacking. He might be able to help her, too.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t found Gabriel. She’d found this file.
She wasn’t going to cry, damn it. She promised herself. No tears. No moaning and wailing. In some ways, she’d earned this betrayal and pain by being so gullible. After all, what did a sex god like Gabriel Bond really want with her? But she refused to let him beat her down. Everly would not sit home alone with her doors locked, wondering where everything had gone wrong. She would pick up, move on, become even stronger.
But right now, the thought of shooting Gabriel Bond in his very talented man parts certainly appealed.
The elevator doors slid open. Through a watery film of her tears, she looked across the dark, private lobby. Crap. So much for not crying.
Trying to suck it up, Everly stepped out of the elevator. She had nothing with her except her purse, that folder, and her pride. She refused to need anything—or anyone—else.
She grabbed her cell and quickly dialed a familiar number.
Scott answered on the first ring. “Everly? What the hell is going on?” His shock was obvious. “Everything is insane here at the office. Did you really almost freaking die?”
She didn’t have time to explain last night or her private hell to him now. They could do that over cocktails at his place. “Can you pick me up?”
“Pick you up?” He hesitated for a moment. “I thought you were with Bond.”
She started across the lobby, eyeing the doorman ahead as he stood sentry in front of the lone door, its glass darkly tinted. “That’s done. I need help, Scott. You usually drive to work on Wednesdays, right?”
“Yeah, I’ve got my car here. Where are you?”
Somewhere on the Upper West Side. Last night she’d seen them drive past a couple of familiar landmarks. It would be best to walk to one of them. Everly had little doubt that Gabriel wasn’t done trying to control her, so he’d be hot on her heels. “Meet me at the Museum of Natural History. I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Text me when you arrive.”
“It’ll take me a while.”
So she’d get some overpriced coffee in the basement cafeteria and hang out with the blue whale until then. “That’s fine. Thank you so much.”
Everly hung up and bit her lip, glancing at the doorman guarding the exit. She marched toward him. No indecision. No hoping she’d misunderstood Gabriel. When he came down here, she didn’t want him to find her wringing her hands and waiting. She needed to be gone.
Everly didn’t have any cash with her or she’d simply hop into the first cab she could find. Yeah, she could use a credit card, but Gabriel would find her in two seconds on the grid. If he couldn’t track her, then Connor would.
Drawing in a deep breath, she pushed aside the pain in her chest. She’d deal with her broken heart later. For now she had to figure out how to counter everything in that damn report.
When she reached the doorman, he didn’t move a single tassel on his uniform, much less step aside so she could leave. “Miss, I don’t think you want to go out that way.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you very much.”
Reluctance crossed his face as he shrugged, opened the door, and stepped back. When she heard a ding behind her that sounded too much like the elevator, she dashed outside into a usual crowd of New Yorkers clogging up the sidewalk.
Suddenly, flashbulbs popped and a roar of shouts with the sound of her name startled Everly. These weren’t typica
l corporate drones walking to work. These people shoved video recorders, still cameras, and more than a few audio devices in her face, all barking for her attention.
Crap, they were reporters, and they were everywhere.
Everly couldn’t move, couldn’t turn back around to the safe haven of Connor’s lobby again. They’d blocked her escape route and invaded her personal space. She felt panicky and sick, as if she’d either throw up or pass out.
“Ms. Parker, who’s the better lover? Gabriel Bond or Maddox Crawford?” A blond reporter thrust a microphone in her face.
A man with a camera elbowed the blonde out of the way. “Are you bitter that Maddox Crawford didn’t leave you his estate since you were his last mistress?”
“Is that why you’re sleeping with Gabriel Bond now, for the money?”
Everly tried to pull back, to push her way out of the crowd, but they circled her like hungry sharks refusing to be denied a
