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For the past few days, I’ve been traveling for business. Today, I’m traveling for pleasure, or at least in pursuit of even some semblance of it. Even just a day of reprieve would be blissful after all the stress I’ve been under, both from work and from Leah.
I frown as I think of her. This trip would be much better if she were here. We could enjoy a dip in the pool, a stroll on the beach, conversations over drinks- whisky for me, shakes for her- on the lanai, sex in a cove sheltered by palm trees. But she isn’t here with me and I have to stop thinking she will ever be.
I have to stop thinking of Leah.
“Thank you, sir,” Sylvia says. “For bringing me on this trip.”
I shake my head. “No need. We both deserve a break.”
Besides, it would be a shame to have that other suite go to waste.
“And there’s also something I want to apologize for, sir.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about the Ball that you attended a few nights ago,” she says.
“What about it?”
“I was the one who told Leah about it.”
My eyebrows arch. The statement warrants my full attention, and I shift in my seat to face my assistant.
“What do you mean?”
“She came to the office that day, looking for you,” Sylvia explains. “She seemed very eager to speak with you, in fact. When I told her you were out of the country, she just seemed so… heartbroken.”
I know that look. I used to have a hard time refusing it, too.
“So you told her I’d be at the Ball?”
“I’m so sorry.” Sylvia places her hands on her lap and bows her head. “I know I’m not just supposed to let anyone know about your schedule, but- ”
“It’s fine,” I cut her off.
I’m just glad she told me.
I touch my chin as I turn my gaze past the window once more.
So Sylvia was the one who told Leah about the Ball, huh?
“Did you help her find that gown, too?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I thought so.
“It said ‘Hellenic Ball’ on the invitation, so I just thought she had to go in a Grecian-styled gown.”
I nod. So Sylvia…
My hand drops to the arm of my seat. My eyes grow wide as a realization hits me.
Sylvia thought a Grecian-styled gown was required. She didn’t know it. She didn’t know the dress code. How could she when she’s just my assistant and not a part of Ambrosia? I haven’t even told her anything about it.
I glance at her. She sent Leah to the ball not knowing about Ambrosia. That means she didn’t know she was sending Leah to a den of rutting wolves. That means Leah didn’t know it, either.
“You said Leah went to the Ball looking for me?” I ask.
“Yes,” Sylvia answers. Her eyebrows arch. “She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head.
No. She didn’t say she was looking for me. Fiona didn’t tell me, either. All she said was that she saw Leah.
If that’s the case, though, then Leah didn’t come to the Ball looking for another man. So why would she…?
I get out of my chair.
I thought Leah betrayed me, but now I realize that’s only because it’s what Owen told me. And I believed him. I didn’t even let Leah air her side. Well, she couldn’t, because she was gagged, but even so…
I remember the look of resentment in her eyes. So that’s why she hates me.
“Tell the pilot I’m getting off,” I tell Sylvia. “You go on without me.”
“What?”
I head to the door and gesture for the attendant to open it.
I have to get off this plane and talk to Leah right now.
~
When I get to the apartment, though, Leah isn’t there.
“What do you mean she’s not here?” I ask the security personnel on duty angrily. “She’s supposed to be grounded.”
“We know, sir,” one of them answers. “We thought she was in her bedroom, resting like usual.”
I go back to her bedroom. As I look at the bed, I realize the pillows have been arranged to make it look like someone is sleeping under the sheets, which means Leah planned on leaving.
I rush to the closet and fling the doors open.
Except for a few pairs of shoes, it’s empty.
Leah ran away.
I turn around. “Get me Giselle.”
If anyone knows where she fled to, it would be her.
One of the guards runs off. I look at the one remaining.
“When did you last see her?”
“Tuesday, sir,” he answers. “She was in the living room.”
Tuesday? That’s three days ago.
“What about Wednesday?” I ask.
“I was off duty last Wednesday.”
“And yesterday?”
“I saw the maid bring food to her room.”
So no sign of her. I frown.
“Show me the security footage.”
I follow him to the security room. As we go through the footage from Tuesday, I see a woman dressed in a maid’s uniform leaving the apartment. Twice.
