But the woman collects them and flashes us a smile. “Thanks for staying and we hope you come back soon sometime.”
Probably never. “Thank you.” I press out a smile.
“Miss Maddie?” a voice says behind us.
I half expect to see a hotel staff member offering to take our suitcases. But it’s a man wearing dark sunglasses and a wire on his ear. Another man stands beside him with his hands folded. Both look very military.
I’m instantly worried.
“Y-yes?” I stutter. “May I help you?”
“Mr. Easton has requested your presence at once.”
My heart lurches and my mouth dries up. I stare at him, unable to form words. Does he mean Chance?
Nat asks the question.
The man shifts his attention to her. “Yes, Chance.”
“Why would he send you?” Nat drops the last word as if she tasted it and doesn’t approve.
“I’m part of his security team.” He turns back to me. “If you don’t mind, can we leave now?”
I face Nat and I’m sure she sees the worry in my eyes.
“She’s not going anywhere with you.” She half-shields me with her body.
“You can come too.”
“We have a flight to catch,” Nat protests.
“And Mr. Easton wants to see you now.” The man keeps his gaze on me. “What are you going to do, Miss Maddie?”
I look between Nat and the men and gulp.
Chapter Four
Chance
I pace my office. It was my father’s before he retired and handed it over to me. I’d long replaced his art and photo frames of the family with nothing. Stripped down is my kind of style.
The only things I left were the shelves. They’re stocked with old books about every subject known to man and every once in a while, I like to pick one up and learn something new while ignoring my real-life problems.
It doesn’t work today. I can hardly see the words in the history text, my mind on what is to come. Or more rightly, who.
I glance at the door, expecting her to waltz in at any moment. Would she be mad? Happy? Indifferent?
I slam the book shut and fit it back on the shelf. My hands itch to fiddle with something so I spin the heavy watch on my wrist, over and over. When that proves unsatisfactory, I move on to the window and look out at the view. Ocean, trees, and buildings blended in perfect harmony.
Sometimes I watch the view until an idea sparks or a question is answered. Today, it gives nothing.
I look away, then pause. Am I… nervous? I press a palm on my chest. My heartbeat is a little quick, my palms are a little sweaty.
It can’t be. I’m never nervous. I approach everything I do with precision and clear thought, almost knowing the outcome before it happens.
Yet, with her, I find myself unsure.
It’s been two days since she raced out of the garden. The anxious look in her eyes just before she ran off prevented me from seeking her out.
