Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
H er phone pinged. It had been doing that a lot lately. Unfortunately, she couldn’t turn it off or put it on silent since she was expecting some calls. Whoever was texting her could wait.
The kitchen island was covered in stacks of papers and folders. Colorful sticky notes covered the sparkly quartz countertops. As Roth walked into the increasingly messy kitchen, she finally accepted the fact she needed her own office. She’d chosen a talented interior designer from the list Sarai sent her. During their meeting to discuss what she wanted, she apologized to Cazandra for being a boring client. Furniture-wise, all she required was a desk, bookshelf, filing cabinet, and possibly an armchair. She made up some lame story about not being sure if the room would remain her office, so they shouldn’t make too many changes. Sarai (who insisted on being present) and Cazandra had given each other sidelong looks and told her they’d take care of it.
For nearly a week, she heard the distant sounds of drilling and pounding. She had no idea what the hell they were doing, but she’d passed men wheeling in massive pieces of furniture and carrying paint cans. Though they did their best to be quiet, the distant murmur of half a dozen people was driving her a little crazy. She hated having so many people milling around, and she really did need a place to work and think in peace.
Those ambitious plans she made in Berlin had come back to haunt her when her board of advisors and classmates from Whartons followed up with her to meet. She’d reluctantly agreed to one appointment, which had led to another, and another. Suddenly, every day she had an engagement—and lately, two or more. The flurry of business meetings and reunions with old friends was dragging her out of her fictional daze and plunking her firmly back in reality, where she now managed more than three hundred million dollars of assets.
She’d met with her tax and estate-planning attorney first and now had her own trust in place. As it stood, her nieces and nephew would inherit her fortune if something were to happen to her, but she planned to allocate a portion of the money to a worthy cause and had lists of charities and foundations she needed to research. She’d also met with CPAs, financial advisors, and a handful of Whartons classmates. That wasn’t counting the endless phone calls from other people who now answered to her. She’d created a spreadsheet to keep track of everyone and wondered how the hell her sisters did this for Hennessy & Co.
She flipped through a report, highlighting and making notes for a follow-up meeting with her financial advisor next week. She squelched the urge to ask her sisters for advice. This was why she had advisors. She could do this on her own. But that didn’t stop her from wanting a second or third opinion. Making decisions involving millions of dollars was nerve-racking, but the anxiety of doing nothing was worse. There were risks, whether she kept her investments as they were or switched to something she suspected may be more lucrative but had a higher chance of failing.
Her friends from Whartons had been a great source of information and quickly caught her up on industry news, stocks, and start-ups. Becoming an angel investor was downright reckless, but there were several small businesses that sounded extremely promising. She wanted Roth’s take, but he’d been preoccupied with his work project, and she wasn’t sure she should cross that line. Asking him to look through financial statements and business plans after he spent his day making countless decisions for his own company didn’t feel right, so she sought counsel elsewhere.
The past two weeks had been rough. He was back to working insane hours. She hoped for his sake the project would wrap up soon. They had dinner together only a handful of times. After, he’d retired to the home office and hadn’t emerged until the wee hours of the morning. She missed him, but with her own schedule suddenly taking on a life of its own, she wasn’t in a position to complain when she too was on the go and absorbed in her own business decisions.
A series of insistent pings from her phone let her know someone really wanted an answer to something. She made a few more notes before tearing herself away from the report and walked over to the stove, where she’d left her phone.
Daiyu: I need to talk to you!
Daiyu: Are you avoiding me?
Jasmine rolled her eyes. After countless unanswered calls, Daiyu was finally catching the hint. She’d been annoyingly persistent about this fashion-show thing, and there was no way in hell she was doing it. She was about to turn her back on the phone to go back to her report when another message appeared.
Daiyu: If you don’t call me, I’m telling everyone what you and Roth did in my dressing room.
She froze. Daiyu wouldn’t... Jasmine cursed as she snatched up the phone. Daiyu fucking would. Part of her knew the story was already circulating. Her friend was a notorious gossip and couldn’t keep a secret to save her life, but so far, the juicy details hadn’t been leaked to the press. On the heels of her father’s death and her recent nuptials, such a story would cause a sensation neither she nor Roth needed.
Daiyu answered halfway through the first ring. “Finally.”
“Blackmail, Dai? Really?”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” Daiyu said, all business. “Why are you playing hard to get? Do you or do you not want to walk in my show for Fashion Week?”
“I do not ,” she said vehemently.
“I designed this dress you’re going to love ,” Daiyu gushed, ignoring her outburst. “I think it should be the opening look. It’s ready for your first fitting, which is why I’m calling. If it requires alterations, I want to get them done ASAP. When can you come down?”
“Never.”
Daiyu ignored her snarl. “What are your thoughts on closing the show in your wedding gown? Everyone’s dying to see it in person. It’ll be great for the masses to see it in all its glory before it shows up in Vogue .”
“Hell no.”
“Jasmine.”
Daiyu’s admonishing tone made her grind her teeth.
“All I’m asking for is a little favor from an old friend.”
“Walking in New York Fashion Week isn’t a little favor.”
“It’s just a little strut down a runway. You don’t even have to smile. Treat everyone like they’re beneath you. It’ll be fun. You’ll be the talk of the town.”
“I’m already the talk of the town.” That had been drilled home multiple times when her friends from Whartons, most of whom she hadn’t seen since graduation, were informed about the recent developments in her life despite the fact she didn’t post on social media.
“Exactly,” Daiyu said with relish. “Why not ride that wave? That’s why you got married, right? To be in the spotlight?”
“That’s not why I...” She broke off and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was no sense in arguing. “I’m not doing your show, and I’m busy, so?—”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me. Do you think I’m going to put you in something hideous? Don’t you know me better than that? Isn’t my taste impeccable?” When Jasmine didn’t reply, Daiyu snapped, “Isn’t it?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Picture this. It’s the end of the show. You and I walk out hand in hand. You’re wearing your wedding gown, which has been hailed as my greatest work. Slowly, the crowd begins to rise. They’re clapping. Rose petals start falling... White, of course, so we don’t stain your skirt. Can’t you see it, Jas? You’ll be on the cover of every fashion magazine, the moment immortalized so women can emulate you for all of time. Don’t you want that? Tell me you’re not tempted.”
She was, just a smidge, but it didn’t matter. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.”
“What do you mean, ‘ can’t’ ?”
“My wedding gown?”
“Yes?”
“There was some damage.”
“Damage?” Daiyu sounded alarmed. “What kind of damage?”
Jasmine pursed her lips as she tried to think of the best way to tell the dramatic, temperamental artist that her crowning glory had been destroyed. “On our wedding night, we got a little carried away.”
“I can repair a tear or two.”
“Uh, this is a bit more...” She waved her hand as she thought back to the strips Roth had torn off and the stains that would never come out. Daiyu would have a seizure if she saw what Roth had done to her dress. In fact, she wasn’t sure what Thea had done with it, since she hadn’t brought it back to the city. If she were Thea, she would have thrown the torn and stained disaster in the trash. “Extensive.”
“How extensive?”
“It’s irreparable.”
“You...” Dai sounded winded. “You wrecked my gown?”
“Roth did. He had a bride fantasy.”
“Oh?” Dai’s tone sharpened.
“He used the tulle skirt to...” Her phone beeped, signaling she had another call. “Dai, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“No way! You can’t start talking about bride fantasies and leave me hanging!”
She ignored Daiyu’s wail and switched calls. “Roth?”
“Do you want to be kept in the loop on Ariana’s situation?” he asked brusquely.
“Situation?” Jasmine echoed and then tightened her grip on the phone as understanding dawned. “Yes.”
“She has a drop in twenty minutes. It’s up to you what you want to do with that information.”
It took her less than two seconds to make up her mind. “I want to talk to her.”
“I’ll send Mo to you.”
She raced out of the kitchen to the master suite, where she tossed on jeans, boots, sweater, and trench coat in record time. Even so, Mo was already waiting when she hurried into the living room. She wasn’t sure if he knew what their errand was or if he sensed her agitation, but he didn’t say a word in the elevator. When her phone blared, she put it on silent, unsurprised to see Daiyu calling her back. She’d deal with her friend later. She strode through the lobby and out to the car, where Johan was waiting.
“Did Roth tell you where...?” she began, but she didn’t finish her sentence, because Johan nodded.
She sat back and ignored the tightness in her chest. What the fuck was Ariana thinking? With all the research she had been doing on companies, it was inevitable she’d take a deeper look at Hennessy & Co. What she’d found was downright alarming. Hennessy & Co. was hanging on by a thread. If Roth hadn’t stepped in when he had, if he wasn’t currently hand-feeding them investments, they’d still be sinking. And Ariana wasn’t fucking helping.
If this scandal broke, the consequences would be severe. Ariana knew that better than anyone, so what the hell was her sister doing? Not only was she endangering herself, but she was putting all their reputations (including Roth’s, since he was now intrinsically linked with them) in jeopardy. Ironic, how Ariana had accused her of ignoring her responsibilities at twenty-three, when she was courting ten times the risk at thirty-eight while running the family company. She had risked it all for love, while Ariana was risking it all to continue her addiction. No comparison.
Her leg bounced as they inched through traffic. When Roth said nothing more about Ariana’s addiction, she’d hoped that meant her sister was in recovery. Apparently not. Ariana had been on her mind, since her sister was the reason she was keeping her distance from the rest of the family. With Christmas less than two weeks away, she felt the estrangement more acutely than she normally would have. After all, discourse was nothing new in her family. It was normal. She just wished Roth weren’t the cause of this recent strife. She’d always seen Colette as the more severe, cold-blooded sister, so Ariana’s staunch stance was that much more shocking and hurtful. If only they could see Roth the way she did. But it was the same thing as getting her dad to see Roth in a certain light. It wasn’t going to happen.
Instead of obsessing over things she couldn’t change, she had filled her days with meetings and figures. It wasn’t lost on her that she’d retreated into work like her sisters. It was their coping mechanism. Business wasn’t as enjoyable as writing, but it was satisfying dusting off skills she thought she’d never use. With every interaction, she gained a little more confidence, a little more insight. She may have left the game, but the rules hadn’t changed—just the players. There were so many moving facets when it came to business. The hardest part was the constant decision-making. But she’d risen to the challenge. For the first time in a long time, she was an active participant in life instead of observing from the sidelines through her writers’ lens. And it felt good.
Jasmine shifted restlessly as her mind raced ahead to the impending intervention. She considered Googling how to confront an addict, but she was too pissed off to care what the professionals recommended. Her sister had no problem expressing herself the last time they were face-to-face. Well, now it was her turn. The bottom line was, this was going to stop. Besides the fact Ariana was a mother, she was running a company Jasmine had given up a year of her life for. She wasn’t going to make such a sacrifice for Ariana to fuck it up because of her addiction. Hennessy & Co. couldn’t end with them—it had to be passed on to the next generation. She would ensure that happened by any means necessary.
They were sitting in standstill traffic when Mo stepped out of the vehicle. She straightened as he opened her door and extended his hand. Once they were on the sidewalk, he gestured to Bergdorf Goodman, a luxury department store.
“Are you sure?” She began before remembering the surveillance photos. Her sister didn’t meet her dealer in bars or parks—they met at the most exclusive stores, where no one would imagine anything illicit going on.
At the sound of multiple doors slamming, she glanced back and saw two men hop out of a black SUV. She’d been keeping her second security team busy over the past two weeks. She wasn’t allowed to interact with them in case someone was watching, but she was starting to recognize their faces and was aware they were always hovering on the periphery.
As she approached the store, Mo placed himself between her and the crowd clustered in front of the eye-catching seasonal window displays. She pushed through the revolving door. It wasn’t until she scanned the bustling main floor that she realized Ariana could be on any of the nine floors. Did she and her dealer make a show of shopping before they went to the dressing room to make the exchange, or did they...?
She rounded the corner and saw her sister standing in front of an illuminated wall of Celine handbags. Beside her was the glamorous dealer she saw in photos. The dealer, Mrs. Upper East Side, gave Ariana a million-dollar smile as she spoke with her hands. Even as she strode toward them, she saw the woman slip something into Ariana’s purse. It was done so quickly that if she hadn’t been watching so intently, she would have missed it. Her heartbeat doubled as she closed the distance between them.
“Am I interrupting?”
Ariana jolted and whirled, clutching her purse with both hands, while Mrs. Upper East Side kept her cool and gave Jasmine a polite, inquisitive smile.
“Have we met?” the woman asked.
“No.” She didn’t smile or attempt to be civil. “And I don’t want to know you.”
The woman’s polished smile faltered.
“The next time my sister calls, I suggest you ignore it, unless you want me to take the surveillance photos I have of your business transactions over the past year to the cops.” She ignored Ariana’s gasp and finished with, “I suggest you take up another profession. You’ve been made.”
The drug dealer glanced at Ariana before taking a step back, clutching the strap of her Birkin as her eyes darted around them. “I think there’s been a terrible mistake.”
“No mistake.” As the woman paled, Jasmine turned away and said, “Let’s go,” without looking at her sister.
She didn’t wait to see if Ariana followed. She stalked through the store and shoved through the revolving door into the biting cold. Before she reached the crosswalk, Ariana appeared beside her. Neither of them spoke. By mutual accord, they made their way to Central Park.
“What do you know?” Ariana asked.
Her hands fisted in the pocket of her coat. “How it began, your attempts to get help, and its escalation.”
“How?” Ariana rasped.
“Roth.”
Ariana stopped in her tracks, her expression horrified. “Roth? How? Why? ”
“He has a vested interest in Hennessy & Co. You think he wouldn’t do his research on the executives to see why the company’s in the state it is now?”
She saw she’d made her point when Ariana’s face drained of all color. She shuffled to the side as a woman passed with three dogs. When Ariana stayed in place, eyes glassy with shock, she forced her sister down onto a bench. They sat side by side, staring at the pond. Mo leaned against a tree, seemingly taking in the tranquil setting, while the other guards blended in with those strolling along the walking paths.
“Who knows?” Ariana whispered.
“I was going to ask you the same question.”
Ariana clutched her purse with both hands as she shook her head. “No one.”
“Not even Rami?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ariana’s face crumple before she looked away. She stared straight ahead as Ariana struggled to compose herself.
“You haven’t told Colette?” Ariana asked in a husky monotone.
“Not yet.”
“What is Roth going to do?”
“What do you think he should do?” she countered.
“I tried to get help. I was clean for a couple of months, and then Dad died and...”
The anguish in her sister’s voice made Jasmine’s throat thicken.
“I know it’s wrong. I tried to stop, but...”
“You’ve relapsed half a dozen times this year.”
Ariana’s breath gusted out of her in a white cloud. The fact she didn’t try to dispute the claim spoke volumes. Roth’s meticulous investigation, as she’d suspected, was too detailed to give his victims any wiggle room when he decided to show his cards. The fact he gave her this opportunity to deal with her sister before he took control filled her with gratitude. She had one chance to warn her sister she had to change, or else.
“This can’t go on. There’s too much at stake. Not just for you or the company, but for Kye and Bailey as well.”
Ariana blinked rapidly. “I know.”
She examined her sister, trying to decipher what was going on behind that blank mask. “What made you break your streak today? Is it work? With Colette out, is it too much for you to handle?”
Ariana surged up from the bench and pivoted to face her. “I’ve been managing just fine on my own.”
She rose and went toe-to-toe with her sister. “You haven’t been managing. You’ve been coping. The evidence of that is in your purse.”
Ariana jerked as if she’d been struck.
“I haven’t told Colette or Rami, because I hoped you were in recovery. Can you get clean, or should I involve them?”
“No!”
Ariana’s forceful outburst made a bundled-up passerby pause. When Ariana glanced at him, he blinked before giving her an admiring smile. Even distraught, the looks Ariana had inherited from her supermodel mother short-circuited ninety percent of the male population.
“I’ll go back to my therapist,” Ariana got out, the words clearly paining her.
“Maybe you should go to Narcotics Anonymous.”
Ariana went rigid.
“Perhaps you need to be around others who understand?—”
“I can do this on my own.”
“I think Rami has a right to know,” she admitted.
Ariana took a threatening step toward her. Jasmine looked up at her older sister’s beautiful, enraged face and silently dared her to touch her. Roth had given her lots of hands-on practice. Ariana didn’t stand a chance in a physical altercation, despite her height. Let Ariana explain to the family why she had a black eye or a shattered cheekbone. Her sister may be outraged, but she was pissed. Pissed she had to deal with this situation in the first place. Pissed that all of them had something to hide. There were such bigger things at stake, yet her sister thought she could intimidate her when she’d held her own against their father and dealt with the force of nature that was her husband daily.
“Colette deserves to be informed too.” When Ariana opened her mouth to argue, Jasmine added, “ And Lyle. They need to prepare for the worst if you can’t get this under control.”
Ariana turned away, but she grabbed her sister’s arm.
“I’m not trying to humiliate you. I want to help. Whatever you need to get past this... If you need someone to go with you to appointments, someone to call at two in the morning, to watch the kids for you, whatever . You tell me, I’ll do it.” Her eyes stung with furious tears. “Damn it, Ari, this has spiraled out of control. If you were capable of doing this on your own, you would have kicked the habit long ago. Let me help you.”
A tear slid down Ariana’s cheek as she whispered, “I can do this.”
Jasmine sighed but relented. “You’ll tell me if you can’t do this on your own?”
Ariana gave a militant nod.
“It’s a miracle Roth let me talk to you. I don’t think there’ll be a next time. Do you understand?”
Ariana nodded and then tugged back her sleeve to look at her watch, which was flashing. “I’m late for a meeting.”
“We’ll give you a ride back.”
“We?” Ariana said warily.
“My security.”
Ariana glanced back as Mo came up behind them. Color rushed back into her cheeks as she faced forward again. “This is mortifying.”
“It seems all our secrets are being exposed. Be grateful yours hasn’t gone public yet. Colette couldn’t keep her troubles about Hennessy & Co. under wraps. Dad told you my pen name, and Roth?—”
“Was blackmailed,” Ariana said succinctly, but she sounded more thoughtful than critical. “Is that still a mystery?”
“Yes.” She hoped Ariana wasn’t foolish enough to investigate Roth in the hope of discovering his secret, since he’d revealed hers. If Roth chose to expose Rami’s past, it would shatter Ariana’s world. Her temples pounded as all the ways her family and husband could destroy one another passed through her mind.
As if Ariana were following a similar mental path, she asked, “Has he been keeping tabs on all of us?”
Was there any point in denying it? “Yes.”
Ariana shivered. “I guess it’s a good thing he’s on our side.”
“You didn’t think that on Thanksgiving.”
“No, I didn’t,” Ariana agreed.
When Johan pulled up to the curb, Jasmine rounded the car to sit behind the driver’s seat. Ariana called her secretary to inform her she was running late. Jasmine stared out the window. She thought she’d feel better with things out in the open, but nothing was resolved. She wasn’t na?ve enough to believe one conversation would magically fix everything. If addiction were easy to overcome, it wouldn’t have progressed to this point. What if Ariana spiraled even further and got better at hiding her addiction? Did Ariana deserve the benefit of the doubt and more time to get her addiction in hand, or should she alert the rest of the family from the get-go? But if she involved the family, how would she explain how she caught Ariana in the act? Sooner or later, it would come out that Roth was monitoring all of them. They were more likely to fixate on that instead of dealing with Ariana.
Her heart sank. Was the past about to repeat itself? Would she have to choose between her family and Roth again? There was no competition. She’d choose him, knowing she’d have no one once they parted. What if her family decided to gang up on him? Would they put him in his place, or would he crumble their empires?
“You knew at Thanksgiving. That’s why you asked if I had skeletons in my closet,” Ariana said suddenly.
She didn’t take her eyes off the view. “Yes.”
“Why didn’t you throw it in my face then?”
“I wanted to, but like you said, it had no bearing on our discussion at the time. And you have a right to decide who’s around your kids.”
“That doesn’t apply to you.”
Her sister still didn’t get it. She and Roth were a package deal. Although he’d tolerate Ariana’s antics, she wouldn’t expect him to endure such disrespect.
“Colette said you won’t be joining us for Christmas.”
“It won’t be the first time,” she said in a voice that sounded as dead as she felt.
“The kids will be disappointed.”
“I’ll make sure to deliver their presents ahead of time.”
“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. They’re very attached to you.”
Her eyes filled with tears. Her niece and nephew lit up her world, but if this was the beginning of the end with her family, she had to get used to this.
“I’m sorry, Minnie.”
She wasn’t interested in Ariana’s apology for not giving Roth a chance or for her low opinion of her. She locked her emotions down and returned to the former topic.
“How are you going to handle this?”
“I’ll call my counselor and schedule an appointment.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“It will.” Ariana reached into her purse and pulled out an unmarked pill bottle. Even as a myriad of emotions raced over her face, she resolutely put the bottle in Jasmine’s hand.
“Are you going to have withdrawals?”
Ariana cast an embarrassed look at Mo and Johan, who sat, as they always did, in utter silence. A dark flush made Ariana look like she had bad sunburn.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Is there anything I can do?” She slipped the bottle into her purse. Ariana relaxed the instant it was out of sight.
“No. You’ve done more than I deserve. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. This isn’t your burden to bear.”
“It shouldn’t be yours either. Your doctor didn’t have to put you on OxyContin. There are alternatives.”
Ariana stared at her for a long moment before murmuring, “Roth’s thorough, isn’t he?”
“Dad never got the best of him. What does that tell you?”
Ariana’s fingers trembled as she smoothed her hand over her coat. “What will he do if I can’t...?”
She grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed, willing her to hear. “You don’t need to think about that. You’re going to get past this.”
Ariana’s glacial-blue eyes were bleak.
“You will,” she said, infusing her tone with steel. Ariana had to get past this. She had no choice. “OxyContin is at the forefront of an epidemic you and millions of others didn’t ask to be a part of.”
“Others go on it and don’t get addicted like me,” Ariana said in a subdued tone.
“You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I...” Ariana began, but she stopped when the car slowed.
As Mo opened the door, Ariana prepared to slip out and looked back. There was so much naked emotion on her face... Jasmine reached out, but Ariana held up her hand so she wouldn’t touch her. Ariana took a deep breath. Despair, worry, and embarrassment were covered up by a benign social mask. Ariana took Mo’s hand and gracefully exited the vehicle before gliding toward her building with her head held high. She watched her sister disappear inside before her attention moved across the street. Even as Johan prepared to pull away from the curb, she thrust her door open.
“Jasmine!”
Mo’s bellow didn’t stop her as she stepped out of the vehicle into traffic, blind to anything but her single-minded need to cross the street as quickly as possible. Horns blared. A taxi whizzed by with inches to spare before Johan grabbed her arm and tried to haul her back to the safety of the car.
“I need to talk to him,” she shouted over the street noise.
Johan didn’t argue but held up his hand to the oncoming cars as he and one of the men from her second security team jogged across four lanes of traffic.
“What’s gotten into you? He isn’t going to be happy about this,” Johan said darkly. He didn’t release his hold on her, even though they were on the sidewalk and heading into Roth’s office building.
“Don’t put it in your report,” she advised as she jabbed the elevator button.
“We’re not the only ones who write reports. Every guard does his own, so any inconsistencies will be noticed.”
“He’ll understand,” she said as she dragged him into the elevator.
“I doubt it,” he muttered as he boxed her into the back corner, while the other guard positioned himself to her left, so no one had direct access to her.
Although the ride took less than a minute, it felt like an eternity. When the doors opened on Roth’s floor, she pushed past her guards and heard Johan sigh when she shrugged him off. She was acting a little nuts, but her need to see her husband overrode all else. Her talk with her sister had set off a volatile mix of emotions that sent her seeking the only person who could reassure her everything was going to be okay.
“Mrs. Roth,” one of the receptionists said in a tone that was clearly surprised.
“Hi,” she said, not bothering with pleasantries as she rounded the desk. She looked a little more presentable than she had the last time she visited the office, but she cared one hundred times less.
“Are you looking for Mr. Roth?” the woman called after her as she started down the hallway.
“Yes.”
“He isn’t here.”
She swung around so abruptly Johan barely avoided running into her. He stepped aside so she could make eye contact with the receptionist.
“Is he out to lunch, or...?” She stopped when the receptionist’s eyes widened. “What?”
“He’s traveling.”
She cocked her head, sure she hadn’t heard right. “I’m sorry?”
The woman looked ill at ease and took a step back as if she regretted opening her mouth at all. “He flew out this morning. He’s in Los Angeles, California.”
Her mind went blank. “Was this a last-minute trip?”
The receptionist held up her hands. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Roth. I wouldn’t know...”
“Of course.” She glanced around and realized quite a few people had come to stand in their office doorways to listen to the commotion. She was acting like a lunatic. She composed herself and approached the receptionist with a smile. “Sorry for interrupting. Thank you for letting me know where he is. I’ll give him a call.”
“You’re welcome,” the receptionist said, but she couldn’t hide her discomfiture.
When she was standing in front of the elevator, Jasmine asked quietly, “Did you know he left the city?”
“Mo spoke to him this morning. He didn’t relay that information to me,” Johan replied.
Roth called to tell her about Ariana but hadn’t bothered to mention he was out of state. Why?
Johan was on the phone when they reached the lobby. She didn’t wait for instructions but walked through the front doors and out onto the sidewalk.
“Jasmine.”
She ignored him and wrapped her arms around herself as she marched into the unforgiving weather. Once again, she wasn’t dressed properly. She had no hat, scarf, or gloves. Within a block, her face was numb. Two additional men from her security team hopped out of the SUV and spread out to corral her as if she were a wild animal. Interestingly, they didn’t try to stop her.
She ignored the festive windows displays people traveled from all over the world to see and navigated through excited shoppers loaded down with bags full of presents. By the time she entered another building, she felt like an icicle.
As she shuffled to the elevator, Johan grabbed her arm as he took in the grand lobby. “Where are you going?”
“To see Lyle,” she said and couldn’t resist adding, “Unless he’s out of town too.”
His gaze came back to her. He eyed her for a moment before releasing her. “Do you want me to call him?”
“No.” She’d call Roth later, when she was alone and not so emotional.
She felt abandoned. She shouldn’t, because he hadn’t left the country, just the state, but... why hadn’t he asked her to go with him? Sarai had come to the penthouse yesterday with Cazandra to see how her office was coming along. His personal assistant, who knew his schedule inside out, hadn’t said a damn thing. Was he there for just a few hours and would be back so quickly that he hadn’t felt the need to mention it? She would have been none the wiser if Ariana hadn’t met with her dealer.
She wrapped her arms around herself as she stepped into the elevator that would take her to a man who had never let her down.