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I waiteda few moments longer for her to respond. When she didn’t, I called her cell. It rang four times before going to voicemail. I tried again with the same result.
Worry ratcheted up my spine. The scents of garlic and woodsmoke in the air turned rancid in my stomach.
Where was she? When I’d asked last night what she was going to do today, she hadn’t decided. The night could yet be salvaged, if only she would appear. Was it possible she had gotten so lost in thought, so deep into her writing or social exploits that she’d forgotten our plans? While involved in whatever it was she’d chosen to do for the day, her phone may have died.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I texted Wallace to return, then set money on the table to pay for the untouched wine.
What exactly I would do next, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps Jasper could get me in touch with Layana’s friend Morgan. Perhaps I was blowing the entire situation out of proportion, but it was better for Layana to be annoyed that I’d worried for nothing versus something terrible having happened to her while I took no action.
Harold—of course. The obvious call wasn’t to Jasper. It was to the bodyguard I’d hired to watch over Layana.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door. I couldn’t sit here any longer, even if everything was fine. Once I was outside, I’d call Harold, and I’d get my answers.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Immediately I checked to see if it was Layana.
The notification showed the message was from Pamela. I wanted to ignore it, but as I headed for the door, I unlocked the screen.
Pamela: Call me immediately. There is an urgent situation requiring your attention.
I frowned at the screen.Whatever it was could wait. My priority was reconnecting with Layana. I slipped the phone into my pocket and continued on.
Two steps from the door, my phone buzzed again.
And again.
Pamela: This cannot wait.
Pamela: I strongly advise you to call me before taking any action.
Taking any action?Action about what?
Pamela: It's regarding Layana.
A chill ran through me,stealing the breath from my lungs. I hurried the rest of the way outside, fully intending to call Pamela the moment I was away from prying ears.
But as soon as I stepped outside, Pamela beat me to the punch. Her name lit up my screen as the phone rang. Apprehension swirled in my gut, and I answered.
“What is it?” I asked, my terse tone revealing more of my emotion than I would have liked.
Pamela’s voice was grim. “Ms. Hartley has made the intimate details of your relationship public on her blog.”
For a moment, the words didn't compute.
Our private life was exactly that—private and precious. Layana wouldn't act so callously and break the trust I’d given her. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.
Pamela continued, “She presents an unflattering portrayal of you personally. This could undo all of the progress we’ve made with Biotabloom Dynamics. It’s a crisis requiring immediate damage control.”
My chest constricted, my mind reeling. “Layana would never?—”
“She did. It's already circulating across the internet.”
I sagged against the side of the building as reality set in.
I’d trusted Layana with details of my life I’d never shared with anyone. I’d trusted her with the family I’d kept guarded. I’d trusted her with my heart.
If what Pamela said was true, Layana had violated that intimacy. The hurt cut to the bone.
