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“Can you pass her a message?”
“No.”
He winced. Skyler was no longer the president of his fan club. “I fucked up.”
“You most certainly did.”
“Big.”
“Yep.”
Why did the women he spoke to take so much pleasure in his misery? “Will you tell her I’d like to apologize?”
“Nope.”
His little balloon of optimism popped. “I’m willing to throw myself on her mercy.”
She laughed. “I want to watch that. She’s been busy sharpening her claws.”
“Fuck. C’mon, Skyler. What the hell can I do?”
“Leave her alone.”
“Will you tell her”—Rafe pondered wondered how much to say—“I care about her?” He couldn’t tell Skyler that he loved Hope. Hope deserved to hear that from him.
“Care? Hell, Mr. Sterling, I love doughnuts. And you care? Like what does that even mean?”
“I have more to say when I speak with Hope.” Silence stretched and grew.
“Mr. Sterling? With all respect, you really fucked up. Hope’s an amazing person. You should have treated her better.”
“Yeah. I know.” The admission was the best he could do.
Without another word, she ended the call.
After the plane had landed, he climbed into the waiting sedan from the car service.
“The office, Mr. Sterling?”
He considered. “Yes.” He wanted answers. Celeste sent a message, letting him know Jessica had indeed been seen talking with Lillibet—Brianna—a few months ago, before she had left the coffee house for a better job at the club.
At the corporate headquarters, he took the elevator to Noah’s office. He banged open the outer door, told the startled receptionist to remain seated or, better yet, call security, then threw open Noah’s door. “Put down the phone.”
Noah, standing, ended his call. “The fuck do you want?”
“Where is she?” Rafe strode across the room to slam his hands on the desk.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lillibet. Where is she?” When he got no response, Rafe circled the desk to grab Noah.
“Lisa!” Noah shouted for his receptionist.
“I’ve already called security, Mr. Sterling,” she said from behind Rafe.
The grief and loss on his dad’s face etched in his mind, Rafe banged Noah’s head against the wall. “Where the fuck is Lillibet?”
“You’ve lost it,” Noah screamed. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
Security arrived and stood there, waiting for instructions.
“You can talk now,” Rafe said to Noah. “Or you can do it when the police get here.”
“Jesus, Rafe. You’re a crazy fucking bastard. How the hell would I know where she is?”
“Okay, okay,” one of the guards said. “Take it easy.”
“I’ll ask one more time—”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”
“You chartered a goddamn plane for your wife, who went to Tampa and is the last person to have seen Lillibet.”
Noah went limp as he shook his head. “No. No, no. She went shopping in New York while we were at the Parthenon.”
“She was in Florida.”
“It’s not possible.”
There was no way to fake the kind of shock that Noah exhibited.
“I want answers.”
Noah slumped.
“You can go,” Rafe said to the security guards and to Lisa.
“Mr. Sterling?” she asked Noah.
“It’s okay.”
It took the trio some time and numerous sideways glances before they left the room.
“There has to be some mistake.” Noah shook as he lowered his head into his hands. “She wouldn’t.”
“She did.” Rafe contacted Celeste to let her know he and Noah were en route to the Richardson home.
“Team is standing by. Let me know if you’d like the authorities notified.”
Since he wanted answers of his own, he told her to hold off. “Let’s go,” he said to Noah. “I have a car waiting.”
The ride took twenty minutes. Noah mumbled and fumbled with his phone. Rafe snatched it away, giving his cousin no chance to alert his wife.
