I open the fridge and peer at the sandwich Mel made for me before she went to work. She made me promise I’d eat it, but I close the door, unable to stomach even an attempt at a bite.
The buzzer for the door goes. It could be my parents, even though they have a key. They’ve been stopping by since the news broke. I don’t know exactly what my mother told my father, but he’s seen the news, and he knows it was Slade he had dinner with the other night. He’s actually been surprisingly considerate, asking if I’m okay, and what he and Mom can do to help. He offered to see what he could find out through the medicalcontacts he has, thinking he might be able to speak with the Beauforts’ family doctor.
I head to the screen, expecting to see them. Instead, a huge guy in a dark suit stands on the street, filling the screen. I recognize him from somewhere.
I press the intercom. “Can I help you?”
He looks directly into the camera. “Miss Jude Yardley? My name is Denver Layne. I work for the Beauforts.”
That’s who he is. I’ve seen him when I’ve Googled them. The press has been reporting on his romance with Sinclair since he became her bodyguard. The guy looks like you could drive a truck into him and he’d not even flinch.
“Is Slade okay?” I ask in a rush.
He glances up and down the street like he’s on alert, his voice coming out gruff. “I’m here to take you to him. Please pack a bag.”
Nerves twist in my stomach. The entire journey has been made in silence. I wanted to ask so many questions—about how Slade is, about what’s going on, and where he is. But they all dried up on my tongue as soon as I slid into the rear seat and the hulk that is Denver got in the driving seat and calmly pulled out into the city traffic.
Nothing he can tell me will give me the answers I need. The only thing that can do that is seeing Slade. When I can look into his eyes.
The bag I packed is so hastily thrown together, I have no idea what’s in it. And I look like a hot mess. My hair is piled up in aknot on top of my head, and my face is puffy from crying. I’ve got yoga pants and one of Slade’s T-shirts on. I’ve been unable to take it off since he never came back. It still has his scent on it.
“We’ll take the elevator.”
I snap my gaze from my lap, meeting Denver’s eyes in the rearview mirror before I look around at the underground parking area.
“Okay.”
We ride up in an immaculate elevator with a hi-tech-looking screen that Denver scans his thumb on. He carries my bag in one hand, insisting he take it when I try to argue.
The elevator stops and there’s a brief pause as it settles on the floor.
“He’ll be glad you’re here, Jude,” Denver says, gently.
My heart clenches. He doesn’t need to elaborate. I have no idea what I’m about to walk into. But I do know this.
Slade needs me.
The doors slide open and my breath catches. In front of me is a huge open-plan living area belonging to a penthouse. There’s an open staircase to one side, and the entire back wall is double-height windows, showing the city and Central Park behind them.
I’m aware of people in the room, but they’re all a blur. None are him.
“Where is he?” I ask Denver as we step inside.
“Jude?”
His voice makes me break into a sob, and I turn, searching for him. The moment I lock onto his blue eyes, I run to him, launching myself into his outstretched arms.
“Oh my God!” I cry, wrapping my arms and legs around him and sobbing into his neck.
I breathe him in, putting my hand to the back of his head and scrunching my fingers to hold onto his hair. The silky strandsdon’t fill my palm like they used to, and I pull back to look at him.
“Slade…” I suck in a breath as I take him in.
It’s him, only different.
He’s had a haircut. And a shave.
I drop my eyes over his body.
