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“You’re only supposed to be listening if I give permission.”
Silence filled the compartment.
The elevator bell let out a loud ding, signaling he’d reached his floor.
“I’ll take that as a no then, Frosty.”
“Yeah.” Then he reconsidered his answer. “On second thought, yes. Send her an email. No. Wait. Belay that order.” Any reason to stay in touch. “Send her a text message.” Something she was sure to see immediately.
He entered the suite and turned on the light. The star on top of the tree was listing again, summing up his mood.
Then it hit him. He’d given everyone, including her, a full week off work.
Goddamn it.
Frost slammed the door.
An ornament that had been precariously perched on the end of a branch crashed to the floor.
After grabbing a gym bag from his office, he jogged down the stairs to the fitness center.
For the first time in his life, he was at a total loss.
When his father had lost the fortune and Greta ended their engagement—keeping the ring—he’d compartmentalized his emotions and outlined the next dozen logical steps, seeking the counsel of trusted members of the Zeta Society, meeting with lawyers, relocating his father to the remotest reaches of Alaska, forming a corporation, starting his own business.
When his mother passed, the grief had been devastating, but then, too, there’d been a list of things to do, a funeral to plan, a reception to organize.
But now…?
Kaylee was gone, wouldn’t answer his calls, had refused to be his hostess for the New Year’s Eve party, and she wouldn’t be back to work for a week.
He dug his hand into his hair.Fuck that.
Determined to clear his thinking, he changed into workout gear and headed for the treadmill. Even wearing earbuds, pounding out miles to a seminal album from Slipknot, he couldn’t banish thoughts of Kaylee from his head.
Frustrated, obsessed, he switched to free weights until his muscles burned.
No better than he’d been an hour ago, he restarted the album and hit the rowing machine, punishing his mind and body as if the demons of hell wanted to drag him under.
And maybe they did.
Finally, heart rate in dangerous territory, drenched with sweat, he eased off his strokes.
And the moment he did, images of Kaylee flashed through his mind, smiling, uptight hairdo, lecturing him about employees, bent over her couch, spreading her legs for him, trembling beneath his lash.
He closed his eyes, and the last picture vanished.
The workout hadn’t cleared his head. It had left an empty void where his future had once been.
* * *
“You’ve been crying.”
Kaylee sighed as she paced her apartment’s living room, her phone pressed to her ear.
As usual on Christmas morning, Loree called. She’d been bright and chipper, and Kaylee had responded in kind. Or so she thought.
But she should have known better than to think she could hide anything from her little sister.
