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“On that subject, she isn’t yet aware of my affiliation with MI6.”
“Understood. We’ll see you around six, then?”
When I cameout of the bedroom, Emerson was nowhere to be found. I looked down the hall; the lavatory door was open, so she wasn’t in there. I went in that direction anyway to check the back bedroom, which I knew was an office Saint kept locked. I tried turning the handle; it was locked as tight as it had been earlier.
If she wasn’t in either of the bedrooms or the bathroom, she would’ve had to be in the main part of the house, and she wasn’t. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.
Shoving my mobile into my pocket, I stalked out the door of the apartment in search of her. As I did, I saw an older gentleman coming out of her front door.
“Who are you?” I demanded, confronting him as he waited for the lift, immediately regretting the accusatory sound of my voice. “My apologies. Is Emerson in her apartment?”
“To answer your first question, I’m the super of the building,” he said with an indulgent smile. “As such, I am sure you understand that I am not at liberty to say whether I let Miss Emme into her apartment or not.”
When he winked, I smiled.
“Lennox Edgemon,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Baxter Bridges, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Friend of Saint’s?”
His use of Niven’s code name gave me pause. “That’s right.”
The lift dinged and he stepped inside, leaving me feeling as though Baxter Bridges knew a hell of a lot more about everything that happened in this building than he’d ever let on.
I stalked the rest of the way to Emerson’s apartment, annoyed that she’d left without telling me. I knocked on the door—pounded, really—prepared to bust it down if she didn’t answer before my count to five.
Moments later, the door flew open. “Lynx…uh, sorry…I mean Lennox. I, um, didn’t want to interrupt while you were on the phone, but it dawned on me that the super could let me into my apartment.”
Without invitation, I swept past her and into a living space that was set up identically to Saint’s, but looked entirely different. Whereas the other apartment was sparsely furnished, sterile almost, Emerson’s was cluttered, which I usually abhorred as much as small talk. But in this case, the space felt homey and warm. A place you could sink into and get lost in. Just like her.
“I would’ve come over to tell you,” she murmured. “It’s only been a few minutes.”
“I was worried,” I admitted, although I couldn’t confess to the extent.
“I’m fine.” She turned away from me like she had so many times before.
“Stephen called.”
“Oh. Did you tell him I’m okay?” she asked over her shoulder before taking a seat on her sofa.
“He invited us to have dinner with him and his wife, Nora.”
“Please give him my thanks, but I’ll stay put.”
“Very well.” I pulled my mobile from my pocket to call and give my regrets.
“You should go and enjoy yourself, though.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head and tapping the screen to reach recent calls.
“But, I’m…fine.”
“Fine,”I said at the same time she did.
“Lennox,” she said, standing and walking over to me. “This isn’t necessary. I won’t repeat how I feel since I’ve said it too many times already, but I’m an adult who is perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
I stared into her eyes, wanting nothing more than to pull her into my arms and kiss her. Before I thought better of it, I did. Pull her into my arms, that is. I stopped short of kissing her, but just barely.
At first, her body was stiff, but within seconds, she relaxed into me. I’d only been with her a few hours, and my resolve to make her think I didn’t remember our night together was already weakening.
