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Forty-Seven
Finn
I gotthe message about Aoife leaving the apartment the second it happened.
My meeting with Hanover could only be described as frosty by that point, but it turned glacial after that.
While Braden assured me Aoife was visiting a spa, that it was at the Victoria Hotel, and because I knew my wife, I was well aware she’d used that as a reason to leave the apartment.
To leave me.
With Arctic winds blowing in the conference room, Hanover’s bluster faded as the temperatures continued plummeting, and he finally signed the contract we’d agreed upon four days ago before he’d sent in the amended one.
Once that was dealt with, I told Ethan, “Hold all my calls. Deal with my emails. I’ll contact you when I’m back in the office.”
He didn’t have a chance to answer me as I stormed out. My temper filled the elevator, my hurt throbbed beneath the surface, but as I looked at my reflection in the mirrors, it wasn’t a defeated man who stared back at me.
I wasn’t about to lose Aoife.
Not without a war.
Straightening up, I headed for my car, and as I jumped in, the music from this morning blared on. It eased me, much as it had done earlier as I raced through the traffic to make it home.
Maybe it was ridiculous of me to need to check things out, to have my suspicions confirmed before I got myself suited and booted for battle, but when I got there, I didn’t expect to see drawers that were full of clothes. Jake’s closet was still loaded with his things too.
My cell rang, but I ignored it as I saw, in the kitchen, there was freshly baked bread.
The loaves mesmerized me.
What they represented held me in a thrall.
When I realized that the phone call could have been Braden or one of Aoife’s guards, I blindly hit the missed call and blinked when Aidan Jr.’s voice sounded down the line. “Conor says Hanover signed the contract? Well done, Finn!”
She’d baked me bread.
That was all I could think about.
Did that mean she was coming home? Or had she finished baking them before I’d called? Had I misunderstood what was happening here?
“Finn? You there?”
“I’m here,” I choked out.
“Are you okay?”
“Aoife—”
Aoife, what?
“I don’t know…”
“You don’t know where she is? How she’s feeling?” Aidan prompted after more silence, “Is she sick?”
“I don’t know where she is precisely,” I said carefully.
“What? Don’t your guards know?”
“She’s in a hotel—”
