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“Oh, did he now?” My eyes narrow further. “Where?”
Ann turns three darker shades of red. “Somewhere called the Red Room?”
A bark of laughter breaks loose before I can help it. Well done, Riley. At least the bastard has tipped his hand already—hedefinitelyfound some form of leverage to justify being this bold. Which family secret will he exploit today? Given my mother’s own warning, the answer is obvious. I can picture it now—Alexander waiting in the wings, ready to dump another mess onto my lap should I refuse Riley’s offer.
Well, they both will be in for a rude awakening.
“Fine,” I bark at Ann, who scurries out without another word.
Against my better judgment, I will play Riley’s game. I’ll even let him think he has the upper hand—harkening back to the only advice my father ever gave me. I think the context was in relation to him attempting to outsmart Gloria during their divorce proceedings by funneling as much of his assets as he could to his current mistress.“To defeat thy enemy, you must become thy enemy.”Whether or not that meant him emulating Gloria’s social life by buggering every socialite in her tea club remained to be seen.
Either way, the method had proved effective when Gloria put it into action by seducing his divorce lawyer and taking the bastard for all he was worth.
Regardless, the question of what Adrian Riley might be planning makes my jaw ache. I run my finger along it, only to remember therealreason for the slight sting. I can still feel the tiny nicks her nails left behind, too ragged to have been made by my razor. I can still feel her teeth along my lower lip as well. Her body on my fingers. My tongue.
I glance at my watch again. Nine-fifteen. Evelyn King is many things, but never late. Anyone else would have already paraded before my desk with their hands outstretched. Much like Adrian Riley, she now has her own leverage to hold against me, and yet she seems to be taking her sweet damn time using it.
I palm my mobile and open the email I sent her earlier, detailing the instructions needed to finalize her termination with human resources.
And said email, according to the receipt, has been unopened. Which was… unlike her, to say the least. I swipe to clear the screen and find myself composing a message directly to her mobile.It is imperative that you respond to the email.
Nearly ten minutes pass without a response.
Frowning, I try again.Respond to the email. Now.I wait a full twenty minutes before I give up written communication and call her. After only one ring, the call goes straight to voicemail. Gritting my teeth, I stand and cross over to the window where the signal is the strongest, full bars, and dial again.
The number you are trying to reach is not available at this time…
Cheeky woman. I should have had her escorted out by security last night rather than leave her there. I should have blackballed her name and rescinded all references. Evelyn King thought she had the last word?
She has another bloody thing coming.
I call her again. And again. Each time, the call switches over to voicemail. Either she’s deliberately ignoring the attempts, or for the first time in her natural-born life, Evelyn King doesn’t have her mobile physically glued to her hip. I don’t know which potential scenario irritates me more.
Though, it’s not like I give a damn. She could be on a plane headed out of New York by now—it wouldn’t change a damn thing. As long as she was far from Adrian Riley’s reach, any schemes he might have had in the works involving her are now irrelevant.
And when the bastard is fully over the idea of a merger, there isn’t a place on the continent where Evelyn will be able to hide. AndwhenI find her, shewillgive me an answer as to how well I fulfilled her little dare.
“Mr. Bellamy?” Ann peeks in from the doorway. “Your next appointment is here.”
“Good.”
She shows in the owner of an account I’ve been tracking for months. We’re closer than ever to an agreement, but for some damn reason, my hand keeps drifting into the pocket of my trousers.
Finding my mobile. Checking for a response. Each time I discover nothing—she hasn’t even opened either message. Could she still be asleep? Though if she is, it isn’t in my bed. I know that she left the penthouse—and her mess behind—after a frantic early-morning ring from Maria, who’d worried I had been robbed.
“Mr. Bellamy?” The man across from me frowns and shuffles the documents of the presentation he seems to be in the middle of giving. “Is this a bad time?”
I shake my head and shove the phone back into my pocket. “Of course not.”
Nothing gets in the way of business.
Andno one.
* * *
James has kept the car running for the past twenty minutes that I’ve sat outside the Red Room. Riley requested we meet at noon, but I don’t step out onto the curb until one. Something tells me that the bastard has been watching the entire time from some high-up window, however. Despite my best attempts, he’ll still see the delay as a win in his book.
Not that I give a damn either way. My next meeting is at two. Adrian Riley has twenty damn minutes of my time, more than he deserves. When I enter the lobby, a blond waits for me, her suit crisp, her smile devilish.
