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“Hmmmm?” I raise my eyebrows at them all and slide my phone unlocked, spinning around in my chair to block everyone out.
“Jessica, I swear to God—”
“—B, it’s Isa.”
I pause, all thoughts about whatever merger we were exploring goes flying out the window. “What about her?”
“It’s just, I’m probably overreacting, but you know me, I like—”
“—Cut the bullshit, Jessica and spit it out.”
“It’s Isa. She went out to see Devon about an hour ago and hasn’t come back since. I’m worried because, well because it’s Devon.”
“Did you tell her about Devon?”
“What?” Jessica screeches down the phone and the way my ears pierce makes me want to beat her.
“Lower the fucking tone, Jess.”
“Sorry,” she murmurs and then drops it down a level. “But no, of course not.”
I hang up and stand from my chair. “I’ve got to leave,” I announce to the courtroom, though it really has fuckall to do with any of them.
“Ah, Bryant…” someone calls out from their chair, just as Dahlia looks at me from the glass window where her reception desk sits.
“It’s my wife…” is all I answer, then I walk out of the room, leaving some important people in stunned silence.
I pass Dahlia’s desk. “Cancel the rest of today and tomorrow.”
“Ah, okay,” she confirms, standing from her chair as I walk toward the elevators. “Bryant?” she calls out, as I hit the down button.
“What?” I look back at her, swallowing past the nerves and whatever the fuck this news has bought up inside of me.
“Please let me know if there’s anything you need me to do.”
I nod. “Thanks.” She knows better than to ask a hundred questions. Stepping into the elevator, I pull my phone back out and dial Brian.
“Sir, we’re on it.”
“Why was she left alone?” I watch as the numbers go down, and it’s as though someone’s life is in the final countdown. That someone being Devon.
“I’m—I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t aware that she was going to see Devon or anyone, and neither was Jerry. It happened while I was parking the car after her morning training and Jerry doesn’t come to the gym with her in the mornings.”
I pinch my nose with my fingers. I can’t blame Brian because I know that if it really came down to it, he would take a bullet for Isa, and not only because she’s my wife, but because I’ve seen the way he looks at her. With adoration. As he would look at his daughter, and Isa would be around the same age as his daughter before she died in a car wreck a couple of years ago. He’s never been the same since.
“I’ll be there soon,” I reply, then hang up the phone. The elevator dings open onto the main lobby and I run out, heading straight to the underground parking lot before getting into my Ferrari.
Pushing open the penthouse door, I look around desperately. Somehow, on the way over here, in between dodging cars and speeding past police officers, I had talked myself into thinking she would be here when I got home. I’d gotten so used to seeing her annoyingly bright smile and sassy fucking mouth every time I have entered the apartment since we got married, so I feel like today would be no different and she would be here when I got home.
My smile drops as soon as I see not just Jessica, but my mom and dad and Brian all in the living room with Jerry and three secret service agents huddled in the corner. They stand from their seats and I loosen my tie, closing the door behind myself.
“She’s not here…” I whisper, more to myself than to anyone else.
Jessica shakes her head. “I’m so sorry, B. I honestly didn’t think anything of it and the way that they talked on the phone—it sounded like they were close.”
I silence her with a flick of my wrist. “They are—well, were close. She thinks the world of Devon, but I don’t know what Devon thinks of her.”
Tossing my tie onto the breakfast bar, I walk deeper into the room. She’s with Devon, and worst of all, she doesn’t know who Devon really is.
“Bryant, dear, we need to talk…” my mom cuts in softly.
“What? What are you both doing here anyway?” I look to Jessica. “You call them?”
Jessica shakes her head. “No.”
I look back to both my parents. My mom’s eyebrows are pinched together in distress and my father’s eyes have drifted out to the floor to ceiling windows. The flicker of my gas fireplace that sits under the television illuminates the room in soft waves, and I exhale, dropping down onto the large couch. “Spit it out.”
My mom hands me her phone and I take it from her while keeping my eyes locked on hers. “I swear to God if he has hurt her…”
