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All he had to do was stay the fuck away for five more minutes and I would’ve had all the information I needed.
“Can’t,” the asshole added finally.
Can’t.
If I had to take a guess, I’d say it was because Riven wasn’t there. I glanced back at the receptionist. She gave me a wince that tried to double as a smile. “If he’s not here, then maybe he’s coming.”
There was a slight shake of her head.
“No, he won’t be,” the manager finished. “I’m sorry your time has been wasted, Mr. St. James.”
My stomach tightened, and panic rose. “Not half as I am.”
I turned then, not bothering to give the receptionist another look and headed for the door. This was a total waste of my time. A total fucking waste—
Rage moved through me as I strode out and headed for my car. But the moment I neared the driver’s door, I caught the sound of panicked steps hurrying toward me.
“Wait! Mr. St. James.”
I stopped, then turned, finding the receptionist rushing toward me. She was sucking in hard breaths by the time she reached me. Her hair was windswept as she tried to smile and compose herself.
“Um, I thought you might need my number…you know…in case you need anything else.”
I stared at the curled edges of the purple sticky note in her hand. “I don’t think I do,” I answered coldly.
She stepped closer and grabbed my arm. “He’s not there. Mr. Riven, I mean. He’s not there, and he hasn’t been for weeks. His things are still there, but we were told not to give out information to anyone.”
“I see,” I answered as she pushed the note into my hand.
“Just in case,” she urged.
I closed my hand around the crumpled piece of paper and turned away, climbing back into my car. She was still there when I started the car, stepping out of the way as I reversed out of the parking slot. One stab of the window control and it rolled down so I could crumple the note into a tight ball and hurl it out the window just as I hit the driveway.
The thought of holding another woman’s cell phone number a second longer made me feel fucking sick. Thoughts of Ophelia rose as I turned the wheel and headed to the other side of the city, where the expensive buildings were surrounded by high fences and carefully controlled by armed guards…well, one building in particular.
“The bank,” I murmured as I pulled the car into the driveway and stopped at the guard hut.
I rolled down the window again and grabbed my ID. My name wasn’t enough to get me inside this place. No, it was locked down and guarded with better security than the president had. It should be…it was worth more.
“Mr. St. James. You’re cleared for entry.” The guard handed me back my ID and took a step back so I could put the car into gear and nose into the driveway.
The parking lot was almost full. I caught sight of the matte Black Badge Ghost sitting in the parking space marked President.
“Good. Saves me having to chase the sonofabitch down,” I muttered as I parked five spaces away and climbed out.
I couldn’t help but glance at the sleek bespoke machine Baron drove. It was new…very new. A gift he given himself to celebrate that harpy of a fucking ex-wife finally leaving him, although not without drawing blood on her way out.
I grabbed my wallet and pulled out my ID as I stepped through the doors and inside, stopped at the security gate and lifted my arms.
“Mr. St. James,” the guard murmured as he stepped close.
“Bernie.” I gave him a nod and lifted my arms as he waved his wand over my body.
“No electronic equipment?”
I handed him my phone. “There’s no porn, so no sense in searching.”
He just grinned and shook his head while I tucked the phone back into my pocket as he glanced at the two other guards waiting in the foyer and nodded, giving me the all clear. I left them behind and headed past the foyer with its lush gardens and expansive waiting area before I headed to the elevators. Black brushed steel gleamed, distorting my reflection as I pressed the button and the door opened.
