Chapter 38
thirty-eight
“Graham?”
I go from scowling at my phone to scowling at my dad. “What?”
He gives me an assessing once-over. “You’ve been looking at your phone since that conference call ended twenty minutes ago. Is everything all right?”
No, damn it. Because I’m supposed to be acting normal and evading suspicion, but I haven’t heard from Juliet in six hours .
“Yeah.” I quickly weigh the risk of mentioning a woman versus leaving him to conjure up his own reasons for my distraction. No contest. “There’s just a girl I’m hoping to hear from.”
That perks him right up. He grins his charming, deceitful, son-of-a-bitch grin. “Got a hot one on the hook?”
Ugh . I hate that he thinks we’re bonding. Over Jules, of all things.
Doing my best to hide my cringe, I sit back in his uncomfortable chair and cross one ankle over my knee. “She’s very hot,” I allow.
A perverse gleam lights his eyes. “Got a picture?”
My jaw snaps shut. “No.”
Dad shrugs. “I’ll believe it when I see it, then. You know, you’ve never been one to bring ladies home. If I hadn’t seen you in half a dozen tabloids with various socialites, I might be worried.”
I pick at my sleeve and try not to take the bait. But I’m not quite able to resist. “Worried? Why? Because I might be gay? Would that be upsetting somehow?”
A trace of pink creeps up his neck. “Well, no , but…”
“But?” I know I’m being rude, but I don’t give a fuck. Why hasn’t Jules answered me?
“I don’t mean ‘but,’” Dad argues. “I don’t—all I said was?—”
Suddenly unable to stand him for another second, I push to my feet. “I’m just screwing with you,” I mumble. “See you tomorrow?”
Making my exit, I stalk down the hall, summon the elevator… and glance at my phone again.
Goddamn it .
It isn’t like her not to answer at all. For the first few hours, I figured she might be in a lunch or a long meeting. But half the day? I even sent a work-related question I already knew the answer to—just to see if she’d reply in a professional capacity. No dice.
I force myself through a workout and a protein shake. I call Christian and try not to panic when his phone rings seven times and then tells me his voicemail is full.
By nine, I give in and text them both one more time. I tell Christian to call me and ask Juliet if she’s okay.
When my cell vibrates ten minutes later, I jump. But the number scrolling over the screen isn’t familiar. I answer anyway, not wanting to chance missing a call from Chris or Jules.
“Everett.”
A tense pause swells over the line. “Good,” a deep voice clips. “This is Marco Amir, Grayson’s head of security.”
And Juliet’s cousin.
Overwrought by anxiety, I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I know who you are , Marco. Christ. What’s wrong? Is it Grayson or?—”
Helpless panic rises, inflating my chest like an over-filled balloon. I don’t want to out our relationship without Juliet’s permission, but I need to know if she’s all right.
“Grayson is fine,” Marco cuts in brusquely. “I’m calling regarding a personal matter. Have you spoken to Juliet this evening? Is she with you?”
Panic morphs into full-blown horror. Stifling silence presses all around me, highlighting how very alone I am.
“No, she’s not here. What the fuck happened? I’ve been trying to reach her since noon.”
Another sickening pause. “I was hoping you might have an idea,” Marco admits. “None of us know where she went.”
“What do you mean ?” I practically shout, pacing. My mind reels, whirring through our texts, searching in vain for something amiss.
“She was perfectly fine this morning! I spoke to her on her way to the office, so I know she got there safely. Her asshole boss wasn’t in, so it can’t be him. She said she had lunch plans with Tris.”
Hearing my alarm, Marco’s voice thaws. “Yes, I know. Miss Dunn was the one who alerted me to the situation when Juliet didn’t return this afternoon. She found me first instead of reporting to Mr. Stryker. She said they were on their way out the door when Juliet saw someone in the lobby and sent Miss Dunn along without her.”
I freeze mid-stride. Her father . That fucking bastard .
What did he do this time?
Before I can ask, Marco goes on. “Mr. Stryker then informed me that he had received an email from her about some sort of family emergency. He granted her the rest of the day off, but I’m not aware of any family emergencies, so I reviewed the lobby security footage. She had some sort of altercation with her father, walked out, and never came back.”
I can’t imagine it. “She wouldn’t do that,” I mutter. “Unless something was very wrong. He came to the lobby last week, too. She got upset, but she still went back to work.”
Marco’s grave tone implies that he agrees. “I know this is out of character for her. When I called our grandmother, she insisted Juliet must be with ‘ el pinchao .’ That’s you, right?”
My heart sinks at Jules’s taunting nickname.
Where would she go? Why didn’t she come to me?
“She had a girls’ night tonight,” I tell him. “Otherwise, she would be here, with me.”
He grunts. “I just drove Ella home from their girls’ night. Juliet didn’t show. I’ve tried tracking her cell phone, but she’s turned it off.” He blows out a frustrated sigh. “I know she’s been with you most nights, so I thought?—”
“She should have come here,” I growl, torn between outrage and fear. “She has a key. She knows she can come to me.”
Fuck . I’m giving away too much, but I can’t bring myself to stop. I don’t care if I have to marry the damn woman tomorrow, with Marco holding a shotgun to my back; I need to find her.
Closing my eyes, I do my best to think like Jules. She was on her way to lunch with a friend when she changed course. She probably didn’t have any of her work with her.
She wouldn’t do well sitting idly when she felt she should be working. And if she didn’t return during office hours because she didn’t want anyone to see her upset, there’s a chance she went back after the others left to get her stuff…
“Do you have access to Stryker’s cameras right now?”
“I always have access,” Marco grumbles. “Why?”
“Look at the ones in the legal department,” I direct.
He grunts again. “The building is closed. The elevators stop running to the executive floor after six unless you have a key card. Besides, she left.”
All of that makes sense for a normal, non-workaholic. But I have a sneaking suspicion she wasn’t trying to avoid her work when she stormed out of the building; she wanted to be sure no one at the office saw her distraught. Besides, I know for a fact she isn’t above taking the stairs after what happened the day we met.
“Just look.”
I hear him tap at his screen. A second later, he exhales loudly. “I’ll be damned. There she is.”
My lungs expand for the first time in minutes. “Thank God. Is she okay?”
“She’s working.” Marco sounds dumbstruck. “Just like you said.” His ragged sigh fills the receiver with static. “I’m going down there.”
“No,” I decide, reaching for my coat. “I am.”