Page 133 of The Golden Scoop

“Dude.” He checks his watch. “I expected you to call this morning. It’s noon. I

was out back swimming.”

“I have to see Emma,” I say, already trying to look around him.

“You read it.”

I give him a disbelieving look.

“Yes, Josh. Of course I read it.” My lungs suddenly don’t seem big enough. “Where’s Emma?”

Harrison shrugs and gives me a sympathetic smile.

“The girls moved their operation over to her house yesterday after she got back from work,” he explains, opening the door to reveal an empty living room. “Julia didn’t stay over. She’s in the pool. You can ask her.”

I brush past him and head straight for the backyard, where Julia’s doing laps by herself.

“Julia, thank God,” I say when she surfaces. “I need to find Emma. I’ve been an idiot. Again.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “Both of you know what she was doing and no one warned me. She’s blown up her whole career,” I argue.

“It wasn’t our place to tell you,” Harrison says behind me.

“Where is she?”

“She got called into work about two hours ago,” Julia says without hesitation. “I haven’t heard from her since. Calls aren’t going through.”

Emma’s at work. Good. She’s safe, reachable. If Julia’s calls aren’t being picked up either, at least I can cross being blocked off the list. Her phone must be turned off⁠—

For a meeting. At work.

Right after the article that breached her contract has gone viral.

She got called into the office for an ambush. To get fired. Or cornered into deleting everything. Worse, maybe they’re threatening legal action. She published independently and threw Golden under the bus.

While I’ve been nurturing my feelings, she’s been fighting an entire war by herself.

“She would’ve updated you with news, right?” I ask. I hate how desperate I sound, but I don’t care. “If something bad happened?”

“I’d like to think so,” Julia confirms.

That means she’s probably there. I check the time. Two hours. If I take traffic into account… I might still make it.

I turn around so fast I almost tackle Harrison.

“Matt?” he asks.

“I have to go.”

An office building like the one Golden’s in has security all over the lobby. Even if I can make it past them, I’ll need a working ID to get the elevator moving. My only chance is to wait for someone to call it and sneak in behind them.

My worn-out Dodger’s hat that lives on the floorboard of my backseat makes a guest appearance. I pull it down low over my sunglasses and make a beeline for the doors.

Inside, it’s almost empty.

One receptionist, two guards, and absolutely no one near the elevators.

Shit, okay.