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She scrabbled for her phone, her cheeks going a rosy-pink. She dialed and then started speaking rapidly almost immediately.
“Yes, there’s a…I mean I think he’s a sheikh, or something. I don’t think he’s dangerous, but he’s got these scary-looking men with him. He’s looked for Angele. I think it’s Angele anyway. He called her Bin-something, but we’ve only got one Angele, right? I mean, there’s an Angie in accounting, but no one else called Angele…”
He could hear the sound of someone speaking on the other end of the line, the deep tones indicated a male, but Zahir could not be sure.
“Yes. Oh, probably. He’s carrying a bouquet of those exotic flowers Angele’s been passing out to whoever would take them over the past few weeks.”
Zahir’s brows drew together as the implications of the receptionists words sank in. Angele had been disposing of the flowers he sent her by giving them away to all and sundry? What had she done with the jewelry, then? Pawned it?
His annoyance must have shown on his face because the receptionist flinched and the papers she’d managed to save went sweeping to the floor. It was probably a good thing she wore an earpiece for the phone, or the receiver probably would have gotten dropped as well.
Zahir took a step back from the desk as he schooled his features into impassivity.
The receptionist was nodding at whatever she was hearing over the phone, though she hadn’t said anything for several seconds.
She jumped. “Um…yes, of course I was listening. I’ll call her extension. Right now, sir.”
The flustered woman pressed a button and then three more. “Um…Angele? Well, yes, I did mean to dial your extension. It’s just there’s a man down here that looks like, well he could be dangerous, or something, but he’s got flowers.” The woman turned away, making some effort to whisper, though her words were still clear. “You’re sure he’s not dangerous?”
Zahir managed to keep the scowl he felt off his features, but it was a close thing.
“All right. I’ll tell him you’ll be down shortly. It will be shortly, won’t it?”
Apparently even Angele’s patience had worn thin with the young woman because there was clearly no reply. The receptionist looked up and then flinched, her face blanching as she must have realized he could hear every word she’d spoken.
“Uh…Angele said she’ll be down soon. You can…you should probably wait for her over there.” The young woman waved toward some chairs by the window on the far side of th
e large lobby. Zahir nodded stiffly and led his security detail to the other side of the lobby.
“Hello, Zahir.”
He turned at the sound of Angele’s voice, his smile of greeting sliding right into a concerned frown.
Her usually honey-gold skin was wan and she had circles under her eyes not hidden by her makeup. She also looked like she’d lost weight; her pale cheeks were hollow.
“Are you well?” he asked and then could have bitten his own tongue. He knew better than to make queries of this type in a public place.
“I’m fine.” She smoothed her hand down the front of her sheath dress.
The color of eggplant, the dark purple was usually a complimentary color for her, but today it only served to enhance the washed-out tone of her skin. Nevertheless, she wore it with stylish élan, her accessories and hair as well put together as any of the models her magazine photographed.
Regardless, she really had no business being at work if she was not feeling well. She needed to be home in bed, being pampered and coddled. His plans for the evening took a sudden shift.
“It is good to see you.” Bowing slightly, he offered her the bouquet of yellow jasmine.
She simply shook her head, making no effort to take the flowers. “I’m cleared to leave. Did you have a destination in mind for this conversation?”
There was something off about Angele’s attitude, but he had no time to ponder it as she turned and began walking toward the front doors. He handed the flowers off to one of the security guards to deal with. And then, he caught up to Angele with his longer strides and they exited the building together.
His limousine waited by the curb. She headed toward it without hesitation. Bemused by her assertive and frankly, unexpectedly cooperative behavior, he followed.
They were in the limo when she turned to him and asked, “Where are we going?”
“We have reservations at Chez Alene.” But he did not think they should keep them.
“My favorite restaurant.”
“I am aware.”
