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“Why are you sharing all this with me?” she asked.
Malcolm tilted his head, his gaze cold and calculating. “I’m trying to be a friend.”
A friend? She wanted to laugh out loud. Malcolm would never be a friend of hers. She had to get out of here, find Leo, and make him explain what this was all about.
Cassie got to her feet. “I don’t need a friend, and I don’t need your advice.”
Malcolm remained seated and lifted his chin with arrogance. “Goodbye, Cassandra.”
Ignoring him, she left the bar and returned to the ballroom. The music had begun, and couples crowded the dance floor. Leo still hadn’t returned. Eleanor and Whitney mingled with a few other guests at their table. Whitney glanced over to Cassie with a fake smile. She must have known Malcolm had been talking to her.
She held her head high and went back to the lobby, frustrated about what to do next. A cursory look around offered no clues. She remembered Hastings, the restaurant where they had dinner, and hurried in that direction. “May I help you?” the manager asked.
“Oh, hi. Your name is Daniel, right?”
“Yes. I remember you,” he said, his tone friendly but formal. “Are you looking for Mr. Sutton?”
“Yes, I am.”
“He’s in the private tasting room.”
“Where is it?” she asked, ready to dash past him.
Daniel blocked her way with a nervous smile. “I apologize, but Mr. Sutton requested not to be disturbed.”
“It’ll be okay. It’s me.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “Allow me to clarify, miss. He requested not to be disturbed by anyone.”
What the hell was going on? Leo had never been secretive before. “Never mind.” She choked on her tears and hurried away. She took the elevator up to his apartment. Just hours earlier, she couldn’t wait to return to make love. Now? She didn’t know what to do, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to wait around for him.Owen had betrayed her. It could happen again. So many conflicting thoughts whirled around inside her mind. She needed time to think about everything Malcolm had told her. She would have to get away until she was in a better state of mind to talk to Leo.
Cassie entered Leo’s apartment and packed some clothes. She undressed as quickly as she could and pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton top. She gathered her hair into her usual knot and washed her face to remove her makeup. “That’s better,” she said to her familiar reflection. She wasn’t a phony socialite in an expensive evening dress, but a real person who wore real clothes. She found her phone and ordered an Uber to meet her in the private garage in case the press still lurked in front of the hotel. Grabbing her computer case and suitcase, she hurried to the door.
