"Where's Natalie?" I had no patience for Gina's games.
"No idea."
I closed my eyes, my patience nearly gone. "Tell me, Gina. Last time I'm asking."
"I said I don't know," Gina rolled her eyes. "Richard, you signed divorce papers, right? Then have some self-awareness. Don't pull the husband card. You two have nothing to do with each other anymore. And stop bothering me. I've got an early shift at the hospital tomorrow." She slammed the door.
I suppressed the urge to rip it off its hinges. I went downstairs and called David from the street. "Use every resource. I want Natalie's travel records, purchases, phone logs for the past five days. I need to know where she is."
At three a.m., David called back.
"Mr. Winston, we found it. Miss Green used her personal credit card the night she received the divorce papers to buy a one-way ticket from Los Angeles to Las Vegas. Airline records show she arrived. We also detected a brief call between her and a Vegas number—registered to Harbor Records in Las Vegas, contact name Emma. No hotel check-ins yet, possibly using cash or someone else's ID."
Las Vegas. What was she doing there? A record label... Christ, Natalie would rather fly across the desert to sing for scraps than be my Mrs. Winston? This was an unprecedented humiliation for me and the Winston family.
I should fly to Las Vegas immediately, find that godforsaken Harbor Records, drag Natalie out of some filthy rehearsal space, throw her over my shoulder, get her on a plane back to LA, back to Blackwood Manor, and lock her in the bedroom until she understood who was in charge.
The urge was so strong my temples throbbed.
But I didn't move.
I leaned back in my chair. Outside the office's massive windows, LA's lights blazed endlessly. I owned all this, but couldn't hold onto one woman walking away from me.
Maybe... I forced myself to think rationally. Maybe charging over there would only make things worse. Natalie was furious right now, like a small animal with all its quills raised. My presence, my dominance, would only make her resist harder, run farther.
Las Vegas wasn't some fairy tale. The music scene there was a cesspool. Her innocence and beauty... God, imagining other men looking at her with disgusting eyes made me want to kill someone. How long could Natalie last in that environment? A week? A month?
Once she learned how cruel reality was, she'd remember what I'd given her, remember Blackwood Manor's comfort and security.
Then I'd appear, and everything could return to normal.
Right. Strategic retreat. I knew when to push and when to pull back.
Over the next few days, I tried drowning myself in work. Meetings, negotiations, financial reports, merger deals... I packed my schedule, running like a machine. But everyone felt the office's low pressure. My temper was worse than ever, finding fault with everyone, tearing into people over minor mistakes. David told me several board members were privately complaining, saying I'd come back from Paris like a powder keg ready to explode.
After a marathon meeting about Asian market expansion, several executives fled the conference room looking shell-shocked. I sat at the head of the table, loosening my tie, feeling exhausted and empty.
That's when the door opened. Olivia walked in holding a folder. "Richard, here's the South American market analysis you requested." She set it on the table but didn't leave immediately, her gaze falling on my loosened tie and furrowed brow.
"Are you all right? You haven't looked well lately."
"I'm fine." Short answer. I didn't want to deal with her.
"You don't look fine." She stepped closer, her heavy perfume wafting over. "I heard about Natalie. She's actually playing disappearing act? If you ask me, Natalie's being incredibly ungrateful. You gave her everything most people dream of, and this is how she treats you. Richard, someone like that isn't worth your worry."
I said nothing, fingers drumming absently on the table.
Nobody knew about Natalie leaving except those investigating her whereabouts. Who told Olivia? Whoever it was could start packing.
Olivia walked to the bar and pulled out a bottle of my whiskey, pouring two half-glasses. Amber liquid swirled in crystal. She pushed one toward me.
"Have a drink. Relax." She raised her glass, eyes hazy in the light. "You should look forward, Richard. Sometimes the best things are right in front of you."
Jesus, I took back any previous assessment of Olivia's intelligence. Anyone with half a brain wouldn't say something so stupid.
I looked at Olivia's carefully made-up face, the undisguised interest in her eyes, and felt utterly weary.
I drained the glass. Liquor burned down my throat, bringing brief numbness.
