Page 69 of Missile Strike

Isabella resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Danny as they stood in Providence Bank’s cavernous marble lobby late Monday morning. The sixty-story tower of glass and steel dominated the Charlotte skyline, but inside, polished stone, soaring ceilings, and museum-quality frescoes projected quiet wealth and power.

“Talia agreed to have lunch in the executive dining room on the top floor of the corporate center. It’s restricted from the public. She pulled strings just to get us in there.”

She gestured toward the security desk, manned by two guards who monitored the badge-wielding employees moving through the lobby.

“Visitors have to check in and be escorted by an employee, and the elevators are badge-access only. I’m perfectly safe.”

Danny stared down at her, his gaze cool, jawline hard. He’d agreed readily enough to her lunch date until she’d informed him he wasn’t invited.

That hadn’t gone over so well. But she wasn’t backing down. She’d compromised—with Talia’s help. Danny couldn’t be part of the girl talk she desperately needed.

Especially since he’d be the topic of conversation.

“You call me when you’re done.” He caught her hand, his grip firm but gentle. “I’ve got to check on something at The Waverly. I’ll only be ten minutes away. Don’t step past security until I’m back.”

“Yessir.” She threw up a snappy salute, earning a scowl.

Before Danny could respond, the elevator opened, and Talia stepped out in a burgundy cap-sleeve sheath dress and sensible black pumps, her dark auburn bob tucked behind her ears.

Isabella lifted a hand, waving her friend over.

Talia swept her into a hug. “Geez, I leave town for a couple of days and all you-know-what breaks loose.”

She stepped back to peer at Isabella, concern lingering in her dark brown eyes before her attention shifted to Danny. “I thought your job was to protect her?”

Danny went rigid. “It is. No one will touch her.”

“Let’s have lunch.” Isabella urged Talia toward the elevator bank before the conversation went any further south.

Turning her head, she gave Danny a tentative smile. Her chest squeezed at the grim lines of his mouth and the shadow of guilt dimming his eyes.

“Go do what you need to do at The Waverly, and I promise to call you when we’re done.”

Talia signed her in at the security desk, and the guard handed her a visitor badge to clip to her blouse.

As they stepped into an elevator, Isabella glanced back to find Danny speaking with the security guard, likely getting his ticket validated for the visitor parking Talia had secured for him.

The doors closed. Isabella stared at the electronic panel above the buttons as the floors cycled by.

“That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” she said.

“I’m sure your father is paying his company big money to keep you safe. He needs to do better.” Talia’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Sorry. Too blunt?”

The elevator arrived at their floor. Talia led the way down a corridor with rich blue carpet, dark wood moldings, and framed oil paintings.

The country club décor carried over into the corporate dining room—soft jazz, white linen-covered tables, men and women in power suits, and attentive waitstaff.

“How did you get us in here?” Isabella whispered, because anything louder felt out of place in the posh environment.

“I called in a favor with our division VP.” Talia smiled at the attendant who checked their names off a list and led them to a window table with a bird’s-eye view of the city.

A server arrived with two glasses of ice water.

Talia’s eyes held a note of apology. “I may have also mentioned your political connections.”

Isabella took a sip from her glass to mask her sigh. “At least we’re still able to have lunch.”

The dining room was chilly enough to make Isabella question why she’d chosen to wear a sleeveless silk blouse and no sweater. She and Talia made small talk until their server delivered their meals.