“Got it. Will do.”
He hangs up and I get to work. By noon, I’ve finished a meeting with the operations manager for Adrian’s consortium. Impressed with their investors and the resources they represent, I send the man away with the registration form for the drug study. He’s barely had time to leave the building when my cell phone rings with an unknown number.
And I know exactly who it is. I answer the call and say, “Hello, Adrian.”
“What’s the timeline on the drug study?” he asks, unsurprised I know he’s my caller.
“Paperwork takes time,” I say. “But we’ve begun the process.”
“Then we have an agreement? You will support our efforts to take our drug to the market?”
“We have a beginning,” I reply. “We’ll see where that leads.”
“I do not approve of that response.”
I laugh. “You’re the one who wanted me, not Derek, as your lead contact.”
“And do I have you as my lead contact now?”
“You’ll keep calling me,” I say. “Whether I want you to or not.”
He laughs. “Indeed. Do you speak Spanish?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“You do,” he says. “You took two years in school.”
“If you looking into my college record is supposed to rattle me, you failed. Now, I have work to do. I’m hanging up.” And I do, immediately picking up the line to dial Jessica. “How do we look for this afternoon’s meeting?”
“Emily just buzzed me, and every banker your father met with is confirmed for a meeting with you.”
“And is Derek here?”
“No. No-show so far, and Seth is on the phone for you.”
“Seth,” I say. “Are you here?”
“I am, and I hear Derek punched one of Nick’s men about fifteen minutes ago. Derek’s on his way to you now.”
“Jesus,” I growl. “I do not have time for this. Any word on where Teresa might be located?”
“She’s completely MIA. No travel, phone, or credit card pings. And if we can’t find her, he can’t.”
I look up to see Derek standing in my doorway, his suit wrinkled, his tie missing. “I need to call you back, Seth.” I end the call.
“I’m here,” Derek says. “What now?”
“I have a group of investors showing up here soon. Go home and shower.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“Derek,” I bite out. “You told me to save the company.”
“And you will.” He presses his hand on his head and closes his eyes. “I just need a day. I need a fucking day, Shane.” He looks at me and then shuts the door. “I need something.”
“I’m listening.”
“If your people can find Teresa, so can Ramon or Adrian. Make sure they can’t.”
“And if we find her? Do you want to know?”
“If you were me, what would you want to know?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Yes. I do.”
“No. Because if I knew, I’d go after her, even though I’d know it wasn’t right for her or me.”
“And why is it wrong for her?”
“Right now, you’re too close to her family. Later. Later, maybe it can be different.”
“Fuck you, Shane.”
“You asked.”
“I know. And you’re right. Again. You are always right. Fuck you.” He looks at the ceiling, then at me, and then turns and leaves.
A moment later, Emily steps inside my office. “Shane, go after him,” she pleads.
And it hits me as I look at her—beautiful, determined, headstrong—that she touches every part of my life. I have her for every little moment, like this one, no matter how good or bad. When I thought I’d lost her, I lost it. And now Derek has lost Teresa and he’s losing his mind. The same but different, I think again. I stand up and cross the room, long strides carrying me past Emily and down the hallway, but by the time I reach the lobby, he’s gone. I dial his number and it goes to voice mail.
Emily exits into the corridor and walks to me. “How do you save someone who keeps self-destructing?” I ask her.
“If I had that answer, I wouldn’t be worried my brother was lying dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Your brother almost got you killed. My brother just might do the same for all of us if I don’t get him under control.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
EMILY
Friday morning arrives, and Shane and I fall into what is fast becoming our routine: a run, coffee, conversation, and yes, usually sex. But the part I really am coming to love is this one right now, where I stand in front of him, in the closet, and loop his tie for him, then flatten my hand over it and his heart.
“I love you in gray,” I say, smoothing the silk over his always impressively hard chest. “It matches your eyes. Cool, calculating.”
He laughs, this low, sexy, smooth sound that I feel in my belly, and oh, how I love that feeling and this man. “And I love you in nothing at all,” he says, cupping my backside over my emerald-green sheath dress. “However, you, my woman, look good in green, blue, sweats, and with brown hair—though I am curious about your blond hair.”
“I was thinking I could get a wig,” I say. “Didn’t we talk about that before? Then I could be the other woman here or there.”
“Hmmm,” he says. “I like that idea. I command you to make it happen.”
I laugh. “Yes, Master.” I shake my head. “That was a joke. You are not my master.”
“I bet I could get you to call me Master.”
“Me too,” I say, “but I’d have to hurt you when it was over.”
“That would earn you another spanking.”
My teeth worry my bottom lip and my cheeks heat. “We were a little intense that night.”
He sobers. “I liked it, sweetheart. I want to do it again. Can I?”
“Everything’s okay when it’s with you.”
He reaches up and slides a strand of hair behind my ear. “I have a surprise for you.”
“I like surprises. Tell me.”
“Then it won’t be a surprise.”
“When will you tell me?”
“Maybe today.” He kisses me. “Which is why we should get to the office.”
I run my hand over his stubble and he scrubs his chin. “And,” he says, “you’re telling me that I forgot to shave.”
“Indeed you did.” I push to my toes, and this time I kiss him. “I’ll go make us some coffee to go while you break out the razor.” I turn away, and he smacks my backside. I yelp and look over my shoulder. “Watch that, you.”
“Just making sure you remember what my hand feels like.”
Grinning, I start walking, wondering how this man thinks I could ever forget his hands on my body. I snatch my purse off the bed and head down the stairs, setting it on the counter to make our coffee. I’ve just started one cup brewing when my phone rings. Unzipping my purse, I pull out my cell to see Derek’s number. I hit answer. “Derek. Hey.”
“Emily?” he says, his voice deep, gravelly.
“Yes.”
“I meant to call my mother. Fuck.”
“Were you checking on your father?”
“Yeah. You know anything?”
“Your mother calls every morning during our run. Nothing has changed. He’s still—”
“Got it. Still not good.”
“But he’s not bad. He’s just not good.”
“Right. Not bad. Not good.”
“And you?”
“Fine.”
“Are you coming in today?”