Loss.
I check my phone again. The message is still unanswered.
I call her. No answer.
I call the last person I want to talk to. One of them, anyway.
“Stone,” Corm Quinn answers. “The only reason I’m indulging this late call is because I’m suffering at the opera.”
“I’m not calling to hear your life story.” I rush to the bathroom. “And since you’re not at work, this call is pointless anyway.”
Her toiletries are gone. Fuck, why didn’t I check sooner? I’ve been lounging here, wasting time.
“Fuck you, Liam,” Corm mutters. “But also, let’s stay on the line a bit longer. Saar is glaring at me, and the intermission is not for another lifetime.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and swallow my retort, because I don’t have time for this banter. “I can’t reach Roxy. Her phone is off.”
He snorts. “That means I won.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Good that this conversation is happening over the phone, because otherwise blood would be drawn.
My phone beeps with a message. I quickly glance at the screen. It’s from Alf. I don’t have time for his customary complaining about leaving money behind.
“If you don’t know where she is, it means trouble in paradise. I had money on this going down the drain in six months.”
I’m sure the losing party is Caleb van den Linden. These fuckers are unhinged. “Do you know whether she is at work?”
“Oh.” The humor drains from his tone. “So the trouble is real.”
“I swear?—”
“Calm down, lover boy. She took a week off.”
“When?”
Pause. Too fucking long.
“Yesterday. Family emergency.”
What the fuck? My heart rate spikes to dangerously unhealthy levels. Family emergency? Tawny? Her father?
“Don’t stress. I’m ninety-nine percent sure that was just an excuse she gave me.” The smirk is missing from his tone like when things are important, mostly when applying his business genius.
“Thank you.” I hang up.
Can I trust his assessment? Only one way to find out, because I don’t have Tawny’s number.
Alf sends another message I ignore while I rush out of the room.
The ride to Roxy’s apartment ages me mentally by at least a decade. I try to call her again. Three. Okay, ten times.
I flex my fingers, but that shit is not helping. Maybe it never was. I almost break down her door.
The super threatens me with the police, but after a bribe, he unlocks her apartment.
No sign of Roxy. She hasn’t been here.
What if she left?
