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She folds her arms, arching a delicate brow. “That wasrude.”
Ignoring her entirely, I turn back toward Randolf, only to find he’s only gone and fucked off.
Silently cursing the idiot, I twist my neck to glare at the pint-sized woman behind the bar. Her soft pink lips are turned downward in distaste, and her dark brows are now furrowed almost adorably.
Adorably?
I roughly shove the thought from my brain as quickly as it formed.
“I’m going back to work. They’ll be readying the floor here shortly, so I suggest you find someone else to irritate.”
“If I irritate you so much, then why agree—”
She slams to a halt as I hold out a quelling palm. “Don’teven ask.”
Just as I turn to leave, Lucia breezes by. “You’re opening tonight, bossman—”
A lightbulb goes off inside my head, even as the nickname irks the shit out of me, and I cut her off with a grin that’s nothing short of wicked. “Lucia! Yourbossmanhas a job for you.”
Placing my hand firmly on her lower back, I propel her toward the bar.
“Meet Wren Caputo, my…guest.” Wren grimaces, extending her hand for Lucia to shake in greeting. “Wren, this is Lucia Romano. My second-in-command. She’s going to take you under her wing for the remainder of the day.”
Wren’s mouth drops, and Lucia stiffens as I pin her with dark eyes. “Stay out of trouble, ladies.”
Without another word, I march fromRapture, relief filling my body the farther I get from the object of my displeasure. The object my cock wants nothing more than to drive himself into as hard as possible, the dumb bastard.
As I’m about to exit the space, Wren’s voice calls out behind me. “I must say, I’m no cactus expert, Lucia. But I do know aprickwhen I see one.”
The joint laughter of both women haunts me the whole way to my office, ringing through my ears on repeat as I tackle the vetting process for tonight's auction.
Lot after lot. Application after application. Every single image joins the others who’ve sold themselves under my hand, however unwilling. Images that will stay with me for the rest of my unworthy existence.
It’s a tedious task, made even worse every time my mind flashes back to the far too-appealing house guest who’s ruining not only my sleep but my ability to fucking work now too.
As I veto yet another applicant and drop their form into the follow-up file, I come to a decision.
I punch Joseph’s number into my cell and hit dial almost violently. He answers after three rings. “Detective Fratelli.”
“Any word on this Ricci case, Jo?”
“Ah, Burton. Good day to you too, friend.”
I don’t beat around the bush. “Did you find Sara?”
He heaves a sigh. “No, unfortunately, there’s no trace of her. All lines of inquiry have been a waste of time. I’m looking into Dr. Porter’s absence and whether it lines up with our case; however, his sister seems to think he was scheduled to be on vacation at present.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, eyes flickering closed in frustration. “If there’s anything I can do to expedite the process…anything!”
Anything to get her daughter out of my goddamn hair…
“I’m in touch with your associate, and he’s a damn good help. Currently, he’s tracking both Sara’s and Wren’s movements over the last three months. Where they’ve been, who they’ve been with, anything that could point us toward a reason for Sara to up and leave…or, as the scene suggests, who could want to harm either woman.”
I murmur an incoherent response, sick to my stomach at how much her presence is affecting me, and it’s not even been twenty-four fucking hours.
“At least Wren is safe with you, eh, Burton?”
Having bid him farewell, stipulating that he keep in constant contact with me, I scrub my palms down my tired face as I glance at the office couch. Jo’s words play on repeat in my head.
