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I smiled, full of satisfaction, as I sank down next to her, knowing that there was a very good chance I’d just made a highlighted page in her kinky storybook collection.
27
Gemma and I took a quick shower together before she had to rush off to the hospital to start her ten-hour shift in the emergency room. It was hard not to tempt her back to bed after helping her get wet and soaped up, but she’d kept me at bay and hurried out the door with a soft kiss and the promise she’d be back after her shift and would bring something for dinner.
If this was what being domesticated looked like—there was a chance I could get used to it.
As soon as she left, and I was in the house alone, all the thoughts and worries that had kept me up all night came rushing back to the surface. It had been a lot easier to stamp it all down when Gemma was there, smiling and filling me with warmth and light. Now, alone in the house, it was just me and my anxiety.
I puttered around the kitchen, haphazardly making myself a pot of coffee before warming up a scone from Carly’s, still left over from the day I’d ordered everything on the menu. I smiled at the memory of Gemma’s expression when I’d taken her joke seriously and told Carly to box it all up.
After scarfing the pastry and downing two cups of scalding hot coffee, I laced up my boots, grabbed my black leather jacket, and shrugged into it as I left the house and crossed over to the museum.
I’d taken three steps, my boots crunching in the gravel when I came to an abrupt stop.
They were gone.
The protesters—or actors if my theory about O’Keefe was to be believed—were gone. All that was left of them was their hateful signs and discarded garbage they’d accumulated from the three days they’d been posted outside my museum.
My elation at seeing the empty walk in front of the warehouse was quickly evaporated by the reason they were likely gone.
It was day three. Today was the day I was scheduled to meet with O’Keefe, in particular, the day I was supposed to hand over the contract he was blackmailing me into signing. And with it, the keys to my museum and the entire contents.
The thought turned my stomach but also filled my belly with fire. I stomped the rest of the way and let myself in through the front doors. The museum was bathed in natural light but still had an eerie quality, as it was completely empty of people and dead silent.
I locked the front door before starting toward my office at the back of the large warehouse-style space. Even though it was almost time to open up, there was no point in leaving the front doors unlocked. No one would be coming. Not when the museum had been closed for days, thanks to the plane crash and O’Keefe’s efforts to sink my business.
In my office, I picked up the phone on my desk and dialed Lana’s number. She answered on the second ring, her voice perky and as raring to go as ever. “Mr. Rosen! Good morning!”
“Hey, Lana. Listen, the protesters are gone from out front. I need you to gather everyone and get them over here for a staff meeting at one. We need to figure out how we’re going to dig out the museum from this bullshit.”
“Sure thing. I’ll get everyone there on time. One o’clock?”
“Yes. I have another meeting this morning.” After the FAA agents had revealed their findings the night before, I knew it was time to get serious about bringing a lawyer in to help me navigate the shit storm I was lost in. “Just have everyone here. Order lunch from Carly’s. Use the company card.”
“Will do,” Lana chirped, and I could picture her scribbling the notes onto her clipboard that she kept glued to her at all times. There had been times I’d wondered if she slept with the damn thing on the pillow beside her. “See you then.”
I clicked off the call and smiled. She could drive me absolutely insane from time to time—but I had no doubt Lana could swoop in and help me pick up the pieces. Which was essential if I had a prayer in hell of getting the business back on track. God, this lawyer better know his shit.
I’d made the appointment the day before, based on the recommendation of Frankie, the lady FAA agent that had been at the house. When I’d asked for a name, her partner Gary had gruffly told me that was not up to them to recommend an attorney. He’d told me they didn’t get involved in that side of things and seemed insulted that I’d even asked.
