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Shock ricochets through my system. Followed by anger as every slight implication of what this means crosses my mind one after the other.
For starters, I’ve been outsmarted—as if a woman like Dahlia regularly went for morning strolls and just so happened to run into Evelyn King. Second, Riley had known. All along, he hadknownI would terminate her employment. He had someone follow her to ensure this damn lunchtime surprise. Did he know where she’d spent the night as well? The fact would only add another weapon to his arsenal.
I would have preferred to have found Alexander lounging in his knickers in the heart of this damn club. I expected as much. Not this.
As much as it fucking kills me to admit, Riley caught me off guard.
The bastard knows it.
“What a small world,” he muses while fiddling with his ring. “It’s a shame, really, that you couldn’t join us for lunch…”
“Oh, itisfate, really,” I counter.
Riley frowns. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” I grit out. “Because my next meeting is already here.”
My mind is already salvaging the shock in favor of retaliation. I start down the hallway and barge through an open doorway, startling the two women inside. One of whom is already blushing crimson and promptly turns three shades redder.
“Smart of you to meet me here, Evelyn,” I tell her. “We can commence with our meeting sooner.”
“Um…” She blinks while Dahlia runs her fingers through her hair. “Our… our what?”
“Get dressed, and we can go. Now.”
All eyes are on the two of us. Watching. Waiting. Smirking.
After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn nods and scrambles to her feet. “Excuse me,” she mutters before darting into what appears to be a bathroom adjacent to the room. Minutes later, she reappears wearing jeans and a plain green sweater. I’ve never seen her dressed in anything but a skirt. The lack of polish makes her seem like an entirely different person—some casual phantom merely wearing the face of Evelyn King.
“Here are your things,” Dahlia says, crossing the room to where that infamous bag rests beside a rolling suitcase. She hands them both to Evelyn, who musters up what can only be described as an exhausted attempt at a smile.
“Thank you. Really,” she gushes. “For everything. I needed this more than you know.”
Dahlia nods and flashes a knowing grin. “Anytime.”
Still smiling, Evelyn turns to face me, only to have her expression dramatically falter. A careful mask replaces it as she sizes me up, her eyes wary, her posture tense as if warding off a blow. “Mr. Bellamy—”
“Let’s go.” I turn my back on her and try to navigate the floor plan through memory. When I reach what I assume is the entrance, I can tell she’s still on my heels, her breathing ragged and unsteady against the back of my neck.
“Evie, wait!”
I glance over my shoulder to see Dahlia approach, still shamelessly wearing only that robe. She extends her palm, revealing a cell phone about ten years outdated. “You nearly forgot this,” she says. Her eyes dart to me, and she adds, “The main rule of a spa day—all connections to the outside worldmustbe confiscated.”
“Thank you.” Evelyn tucks the phone into her pocket, oblivious to the way I glare at the device. At least the question of her dead silence is answered. I wonder who held onto her “confiscated” mobile all this time? Riley? Did he peer through every incoming message, smirking to himself?
The smile he wears now doesn’t reveal a damn thing. He merely nods, displaying a row of straightened teeth. “Until next time, Bellamy. What a shame about lunch.”
I say nothing when I turn to the door and wrench it open. Evelyn follows, dragging the suitcase behind her while wrestling her bag onto her shoulder. The bloody thing looks even heavier than usual. She struggles in my wake, and with a sigh, I reach back.
“Give it to me.”
“No.” She shakes her head, still attempting to maneuver the suitcase with her free hand. “I mean… It’s okay. I’ve got it—”
I seize the handle of the rolling suitcase regardless and tug, easily ripping it from her grip.
When we reach the elevator, I gauge her reaction from the corner of my eye. Her cheeks are red, her chin jutting haughtily into the air. She doesn’t say a damn word until we descend to the lobby and exit the building.
“I’ll take that now, thank you.” She hurries to stand in front of me and points toward the suitcase.
