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“You must be Mr. Bellamy,” she calls while slinking toward me in wickedly high heels. I take her outstretched hand and shake it once, surprised by the strength in her grip.
“I’m Giselle,” she says, simpering as my gaze takes her in.
“Charmed.” I turn my back on her and head for the elevator. “Is he in his office?”
“Not today.” I hear the telltale click of her heels striking the marble in tandem as she struggles to catch up. “He’s in his suite. I’ll escort you.”
“His suite?” I stop in my tracks, drawing eyes from the patrons occupying the lobby. “Forlunch?”
“Yes, of course.” Unperturbed, Giselle continues past me, her hips swaying with every step she takes. “He thought it was the perfect setting for an informal meeting between two old friends.”
Friends. I grit my teeth at the word choice and reluctantly follow Giselle into an elevator. The floor we arrive at appears to be nothing more than a long hallway with a single door branching off the end.
“This way,” Giselle calls before leading the way forward. Once we reach the door, she twists the doorknob and pushes it open. Feminine laughter spills out—the first contradiction to Riley’s supposedly private lunch. I glance over Giselle’s shoulder to find the spacious, empty entryway to what I assume is one enormous suite. The furniture is impeccable, the layout both elegant and casual. I don’t find Riley after scanning the foyer, but the laughter grows, and I cock my head, attempting to decipher it. Two women. One voice is lighter than the other. Familiar…
“He’s in here,” Giselle says, indicating a hallway leading away from the giggling. I follow her warily, fully prepared to face a sneering Alexander standing in the middle of the office I find myself ushered inside.
Instead, Riley is waiting alone, but his knowing smirk isn’t comforting in the slightest. “Bellamy,” he says. “So nice of you to join me—”
“Let’s cut this short,” I interject, peering around at the corners of the room, hunting for the signs of whatever trap he’s set. “If you’re still asking about a merger, the answer is no—”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Riley replies with a shrug. He smooths out his collar before adjusting the ring on his left hand. Every motion is suave and nonchalant. My answer doesn’t surprise him, but that’s not what makes me instantly raise my guard. He’s too calm. Too collected—much like an assassin poised to deliver a killing blow. “Please, do reconsider lunch, though, if you’re hungry. I’ve had Dahlia order from her favorite café.”
Dahlia.I instantly put a face to one of the giggling voices I’d heard in the foyer—the huskier tones definitely belonged to the dark-haired woman from dinner.
“I can’t, I’m afraid,” I reply to the invitation. “You’ve caught me at a bad time, Riley. I have another meeting in less than an hour.”
“Oh.” He nods understandingly and gestures to the doorway. “Allow me to see you out, at least.”
The seemingly friendly gesture sets me further one edge, though the tension is momentarily shattered when the woman formerly introduced as Riley’s legal counsel, now clad only in a colorful silk robe, races through the doorway.
“Excuse me,” she calls with a giggle as she darts toward the desk. She pulls open a drawer and rummages through it, withdrawing a pair of scissors. Brandishing them in one hand, she hurries from the room, calling to someone who must be in another part of the suite. “Oh, come on! Don’t you dare run! I’ll get someone to help me hold you down. It’ll be just a small trim!”
Another woman’s exasperated sigh drifts from the hall in response. For some reason, the sound itches at the back of my mind like a puzzle whose missing piece lurks in plain sight.
“I won’t keep you any further,” Riley insists, reminding me of the task at hand. He strolls for the doorway but pauses right before crossing the threshold, his head cocked. “Is Evelyn on her own lunch break?”
I stiffen. To untrained ears, the casual tone would seem genuine, devoid of any dangerous note of inflection.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but Evelyn King is no longer a part of my company. I took youradviceto heart. A scandal is the last thing either of us wants to see happen. So…” My voice lowers as I meet his gaze directly. “You can cut her out of any schemes you may have in mind.”
I gauge his reaction carefully, noting every nuanced shift of his expression. Is he surprised by the news? Intrigued? I can’t tell if it’s shock I find lurking behind his gaze or merely smug satisfaction.
“Is that so?” He nods seemingly to himself and continues into the foyer. “So that explains it…”
I’m on his heels. “That explains what?”
He takes his time turning to face me again, his head cocked slightly to the side, his expression mockingly innocent. “Why Dahlia ran into her alone, in the park earlier this morning.”
His words act like some sick cue. From a nearby room, a single figure races out into the hall. She, too, wears a silk dressing gown, her blond hair hanging loose over her shoulders.
“Evie,” Dahlia’s amused voice calls after her. “Come back! It looks fine!”
Oblivious to anyone else, Evelyn King attempts to race down the hallway on her tiptoes, freshly painted a glaring shade of red. It’s only when she’s paces away that she finally looks up and sees Riley and me. Her glossy lips part in shock, and those blue eyes, now lined in kohl, widen as she scrambles to close her robe over a pink bra and panty set. “Oh my god—”
“Get back in here, you!” A smug Dahlia prances out and seizes Evelyn by the shoulders, steering her manually back to the room. “Your makeover is almost done. I promise.” She glances back and casts a knowing wink. In my direction or Riley’s?
It doesn’t seem to matter either way.
