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But I do none of that. I turn away and stare out the window in desperate hope that a car will come screeching onto the tarmac at any moment. I hope and pray that Libby will come bounding out of her car with her packed bags and a vow to never let go again.
But my daze continues as Lara serves me a beer, then as she sits in her seat and buckles in. The doors are closed and locked – and Libby isn’t here.
The engines begin to roar – and still, Libby isn’t here.
My captain’s voice crackles over the speakers as he announces takeoff and arrival time – and yet… no Libby.
My heart literally aches as we start moving forward on the tarmac, and when we take off and my stomach drops the way it does every single time I fly, I firm my lips, stare out the window, and watch the world get smaller and smaller as we climb.
I had her. I lost her.
I had her again.
But now she chooses them over me.
* * *
“Mr. Griffin?”
Annaliese’s soft voice brings my eyes away from the report I’ve yet to absorb, despite staring for a whole hour. Her voice comes from the phone on my desk, so I reach out and grab it.
“Yeah?”
“Sir, the police are here. They’d like to speak with you for just a moment.” She lowers her voice, “I asked for a warrant, but the female officer tore me up and said she’d bring me in for questioning if I don’t cooperate.”
My heart races, and my smile creeps up. “I’m coming.” I toss my phone down and jump up from my chair.
I’ve never in my life been so happy to hear that there’s a mouthy female cop in my building. I’ve never not insisted on that warrant. But here she goes again, a pair of sexy legs making me act out of character as I sprint the length of my office and tear open the double doors.
My staff are surprised by my actions. Not once in the whole time Griffin Industries has been operational have I been so dramatic – or welcoming of the cops – so when the doors slam open, and I wear a grin that would rival that of Pennywise, they stop working and look up with wide eyes.
The phones continue to ring. The four women who sit behind a long reception desk look up and study me as though I’m wearing a dress and a wig, and Annaliese, who sits at her desk just by my door, gulps when my eyes stop on the stocky policewoman and my heart gives a finalsplat.
“Mr. Griffin?”
This isn’t Libby. It’s not fucking Libby!
“Hi, my name is Detective Trinke, and my colleague, Detective James. We’d like a moment to speak with you about a business venture you recently absolved.”
I think I have a genuine case of whiplash. My body aches, my stomach hurts, my neck hurts, and my eyes itch. My whole fucking being rejects this bitch who steps through my office door and takes a seat across from my desk.
Annaliese apologizes with her eyes. We have a system for this, a protocol that hasn’t failed yet, but my hopes that Libby had followed me made me act rashly. And now I have two cops in my office, one of whom is a woman, but not the one I want.
My top lip curls back with disgust as I’m reminded once again that I fucking loathe cops. There isn’t a single one whose name isn’t Libby that I like, and it’s lucky that I was already in love with Libby long before I knew of her vocation.
I turn away from Annaliese and close the doors once more. Stalking across my office, I take my seat and go back to the guy I was before my two-week hiatus so recently.
I’m silent. I’m an impenetrable wall.
“Mr. Griffin.” James, the male detective, leans forward and, taking a photograph from a manila folder on his lap, places it on my desk so dark eyes stare back at me. He sits back with deliberate movements and steeples his fingers. “I believe you might recognize this man.”
It could have been worse. It could have been so much worse. So what he says next is almost enough to make me exhale with relief.
“Li Zhang is the CEO of a company you recently dumped millions of dollars of shares in. We’re very much interested in your business relationship.” He lifts a dangerous brow, as though to dare me to prove him wrong and admit I was a part of Zhang’s bullshit. “Detective Trinke and I have been following his dealings for a little while, so any information you could give us would be greatly appreciated.”
This isn’t an alleyway, and I’m not hungry.
But somehow I’m alone again.
I miss Libby.
I miss my home.
