46. Now
FORTY-SI X
now
Eight fucking blocks.
This whole time, she was only eight goddamn blocks away from Stryker & Sons .
The realization infuriates me. “ This is her building?” I demand, sitting forward in the back of the Mercedes. “You’re sure?”
Amir turns and casts me staying glance. “This is Idealogue’s building, sir. That is why we’re here, yes? To meet with them ?”
I don’t miss his slight emphases. God, get a hold of yourself, Stryker .
“Yes,” I reply, working to sound even. “Of course.” I consult my watch.
8:56 a.m .
The next time I look, three minutes have passed. Our elevator announces our arrival on the twentieth floor—Idealogue’s executive level. I wade through a throng of owners and higher-ups, shaking hands and maintaining a straight face.
Amir and I follow the group into an ultra-long conference room packed with people. Along with the corners and walls, all thirty seats are full, save for one. I scan the expanse as quickly as I can, searching for a familiar flash of blonde.
When I don’t see her, something inside of me hardens. The owner points toward the one available chair, and the urge to be an ass overrides my control. I shoot him a look and gesture at Amir.
“My associate will need a seat as well.”
I hate when people assume I treat my head of security like an accessory. He’s a person, after all. Their guest, technically.
Everyone fumbles to produce an extra place. I catch Marco’s slight eye roll as he drops into it. Mocking me, I know. Because he’s correctly pinpointed the real reason for my mood.
The other company owner starts in on their philosophy and vision. Honestly, most firms just repackage the same buzzwords.
Synergy. Maximize. Modern. Visionary .
My eyes skip around the fringes of the room until the president addresses me directly. “So, Mr. Stryker, tell us—what are you looking for in this campaign?”
I almost smile. It’s amazing how often marketing and PR companies want me to do their jobs for them, bringing fully formed ideas to the table. But I’m not here for a fluff job. If I had time to do my own damn marketing, then I would.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” I tell him, reaching for one of my favorite phrases. “Why don’t you have your junior execs show me what they’ve come up with?”
More scrambling ensues. Good , I think uncharitably. The more these people shuffle aro und, the more likely I am to catch a glimpse of ? —
Ella.
There she is. In the far back corner. Trying to disappear behind a fiddle leaf fig tree. But the purple of her outfit stands out against the white wall at her back. And she’s entirely too pretty to ever blend in.
Pretty, puffy-eyed, and pale.
A fist tightens around my gullet, crushing it. I grapple with the fierce urge to lurch to my feet and throw myself across the room. She looks so small and scared… and suddenly, I just want to protect her.
Unless … A cold prickle hardens my lungs. It’s me. I’m the reason she looks like that .
With her head firmly bent over her shoes, she doesn’t register me recognizing her. Still, my gaze tracks her every move. The way she shifts from one foot to another. Her fingers twisting the sides of her skirt. The tension pulled tight across her shoulders and the way it emphasizes her collarbones, peeking out from under the V-neck of her dress.
Look up, Ellie. Look at me .
I used to give her the same command while I rammed my cock into her. I loved the way lust hazed her sapphire gaze, and the adoration that beamed from those indigo irises when our bodies moved together. Just locking gazes with her used to be enough to make me come.
Now, I’m simply desperate to see if she is all right.
At my elbow, Amir makes a muffled coughing noise. To anyone else, it probably sounds completely normal, but he’s trying to help me regain my focus before someone notices me ogling one of their assistants.
Reluctantly, I turn my attention to the guy presenting his pitch. He’s wearing square-framed glasses and a tweed blazer with leather elbow patches. Some of his ideas earn nods from me, and two actually compel me to stop frowning .
But the poor guy doesn’t stand a chance next to his coworker. The second she stands, all eyes snap to her fuchsia pantsuit.
The woman proceeds to present a concept that’s head-and-shoulders above the others. Before she even finishes her pitch, I hold up my hand. The entire room is breathless until I smile.
“Marjorie, is it? This is excellent. I want it.”
My head snaps to the right, where the president sits beside me. “Her plan is good. Don’t touch it. My lawyers will contact you about the contract this afternoon. In the meantime, I wonder if we could clear the room to finish fleshing out the concept?”
I’m not learning anything by making Ella hover in the corner and stare at her feet. Besides, if being in the same room as me makes her that miserable… I’ll let her leave without so much as a private word.
For a moment, the president seems flummoxed. Then, he begins waving people toward the doors. “Thanks, everyone! Great work. Marjorie? You and your assistant stay behind.”
Marjorie nods, her expression giving nothing away. I admire her self-possession. Especially a moment later when she shocks me by turning her head slightly and saying, “Ella?”
My soul seizes as Ella slinks out of the corner and traipses to Marjorie’s side.
“See that Mr. Stryker has what he requires,” Marjorie says, her tone brokering no argument. “Then go and retrieve copies of everything for him and send the electronic parcel.”
With a slight bob of her head, Ella turns to walk the length of the long room, until she’s standing opposite Marco. I barely catch the peachy pink warming her cheeks before she faces her shoes.
“Mr. Stryker,” she murmurs softly. “Can I get you something?”
Look at me, Ellie.
“Coffee,” I say, unable to help myself. “Do you have a travel mug, perchance?”
My attempt to goad her lands. Her head snaps up, blue eyes flashing with a quick burst of irritation. “No, sir ,” she shoots back, scowling at me. “Our office doesn’t supply them. I would offer you my own, but I’m afraid it went missing over the weekend.”
And damn it, I know I’m supposed to hate her. But I can’t keep a straight face when she gets sassy like that. “Hmm,” I sigh, rubbing my hand over my jaw. “Maybe someone took it.”
Her nose twitches adorably. Outrage fills her fine features. “I don’t know anyone that horrendously rude.”
I forgot how easily she makes me laugh. A smirk escapes before I can help it. “A stranger, then?” I suggest, playing along.
But Ellie’s face shutters. “No,” she says softly. Her eyes trace my expression with a tender blend of regret and wistfulness. “Never.”
Her meaning hits me squarely in the chest. And she’s right. We’ll never be strangers.
It’s suddenly everything I can do to keep from lunging for her.
I could carry her out of here , I think, manically . Put us both on a plane and just fly away forever. To an island where nothing else exists, and it’s just us.
But what would that do?
She doesn’t want me.
I clear my throat, hiding my reaction to my own depressing thoughts by glancing down at my navy suit. “Just the coffee, then, Miss Callahan. Thank you.”
Without another word, she scurries past me. Marco and I exchange a loaded look that’s interrupted by a harrumph. I swivel, finding Marjorie two seats over, staring. Her right leg crosses over her knee to display a spikey heel.
“Listen,” she says calmly, her eyes hard. “I know you own more property on this island than anyone else. I’m sure that entitles you to a lot, including my respect. But it does not entitle you to my assistant. If you’re only here to get to her, I’m not interested in working with you.”
Well, shit .
That was the reason for my visit. Initially. But I admire Marjorie’s ideas almost as much as I respect her nerve.
I keep my face straight. “You’re making a bold assumption. She could be a complete stranger to me.”
Marjorie flips her gaze from me to Marco and back again. “She knows your security guy,” she points out, utterly confident. “And you called her Miss Callahan, despite me neglecting to mention her last name.”
Fuck me . I have to get a grip.
Backtracking, I shrug. “All right, so I know her. That doesn’t mean I don’t like your pitch. Or want to work with you.”
She regards me shrewdly. “Even if I fire Ella tomorrow?”
It takes every ounce of my self-control to remain impassive. The truth is, I’ll never forgive myself if my half-baked impulse to come to Idealogue winds up costing Ella her job. I want to get to the bottom of her reasons for leaving me, not take away her livelihood.
“Even then,” I lie, entirely even.
Another insane idea occurs to me. Riding on a tide of nerves, it flows out before I have a chance to truly consider it. “Though,” I go on, “as a show of good faith, I’d like to invite you both to a company event this week at our headquarters. It will be an excellent opportunity for you to meet the team.”
And an excellent opportunity for me to see Ella again.
Just to observe her , I remind myself. To figure out what she’s hiding. Nothing more .
Marjorie’s perceptive stare takes on a challenging edge. “Sounds like a good plan. I’ll have to see if Ella is free. And her boyfriend , of course.” She tips her eyebrows up.
Boyfriend .
My blood chills, thickening into slush. My ears pound while my brittle heart tries to shovel muck through my veins.
She has a boyfriend . My mind reels. Of course she does. I mean, Jesus, the girl is so beautiful, I practically stalked her. Followed her out of a damn subway . Found her apartment in Brooklyn. I’m fucking sitting here right now.
But why wasn’t this boyfriend at her place on Friday night? And why didn’t I see anything in her apartment to indicate she had a regular male guest?
Not that that means anything. Before this whole insane mess, I had girls over all the time, and my penthouse still looks like a museum dedicated to bachelorhood.
In the end, I really only have one option. So I bite out, “ I insist. You’ll all be my personal guests. My assistant will forward appropriate details and arrange a car.”
Marjorie’s sharp smile has a distinctly feline quality. “Excellent.”
She waves her hand, and I notice Ella hovering just beyond the glass doors to the room, waiting for a signal to enter. With her grace restored, she floats in and sets a cup of hot coffee beside me. Black, just the way I like it. Just as she made it for me two days ago. And three years before that.
She also produces a second cup—tea, complete with a saucer. She sets it in front of Amir. “Two teaspoons of honey,” she murmurs, giving him her shy smile. “Right?”
I feel a stab of envy so vicious I think I might actually snarl. I want that smile. And she’s giving it to my driver? And, apparently, a boyfriend ?
Amir’s dark eyes soften as he takes in her kind gesture. “Thank you, Miss Callahan. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.”
She rolls her big blue eyes. “Call me Ella , Marco. Please . Sheesh.”
That’s another thing I loved and forgot all about—her filler words. Sheesh. Geez. Drat. Goodness .
Yearning burns a fresh path of pain through my chest. Goddamn it . How many different ways can I miss this girl? The one woman I can never trust again?
I hate myself for it. I hate her for it. But I don’t hate either of us quite enough to contr ol the need to be as close to her as I can for as long as I’m allowed.
“Miss Callahan,” I interject, my voice a touch harsher. “I wonder if we might get a tour of the offices after our meeting concludes. I’m sure Marjorie has other business to attend to, and I’d like to see where my team will be working when they come here to collaborate.”
Marjorie’s eyes never leave my face, even as she calls, “That won’t be a problem, will it Ella?”
Ella shoots me a look somewhere between appalled and accusatory, then faces her boss with a much more solicitous expression. “Not at all. ”