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CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Here we go Mr. Dufort. One long black.”
“Thank you, Scarlet,” Fletcher said, not looking up from his emails.
He had drafted a message to the Black Hawke offices, but it was now Thursday, and he’d still not sent it. He wasn’t sure what was holding him back. Perhaps because Simon hadn’t done anything except slip a photo to his daughter.
It was hardly illegal, even though it was clearly an unspoken threat.
Fletcher wondered if a conversation with Simon would be beneficial. Olivia wouldn’t like it, but sometimes a man-to-man conversation could clear things up.
In other words, he intended to intimidate the guy.
Fletcher was a tall, solidly built, and powerful businessman. Either way he looked at it, the conversation was going to go his way. He’d ensure it did.
Unless the guy was packing.
So, before hiring a bunch of former-marine muscle, it was worth taking a more gentlemanly approach.
And he was using that termextremelyloosely.
To do that, though, he needed Simon’s damn surname.
“Oh, and Olivia called before you arrived,” Scarlet said.
His head shot up.
“She’s at home with a migraine, so won’t be in the office today.”
Weird.
Scarlet closed the door behind her. Fletcher leaned back in his chair. Olivia didn’t get migraines and in the two years she’d been working for him, she’d only had two sick days.
Both had been to look after Sammy.
Letting out a sigh, Fletcher got stuck into his work, figuring she was stressed with everything going on and just needed a day off. He didn’t blame her. For the past few nights, he hadn’t slept well. He wanted her back in his bed and in his arms.
By lunchtime, he was feeling more anxious about it, so he tried to call her.
No answer.
By late afternoon and after three more phone calls, he couldn’t concentrate. He asked Scarlet to cancel the rest of his meetings and have Frederick bring the car around.
“We’re heading to Ms. Olivia’s?”
“Yes,” he said, deep in thought. “Stop a few houses down,” he added, conscious of her concerns. A luxury car parked outside wasn’t going to help if Simon was having her watched.
Creepy fucker.
He pulled off his Tom Ford jacket and removed his Prada tie, folding the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. The weather was cooler outside, but he was hoping the more casual look would give him an everyday businessman look.
He glanced at his Rolex and decided it could stay. He wasn’t leaving that lying around in the car, even with Frederick there.
