CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Paolo
After I parked and took the elevator up to the lobby, my first real sign that something was wrong was when Tony, one of the nighttime security guards, saw me.
“Hey, Mr. Lanetti. I didn’t think you’d be coming back around.” He had a big smile on his face.
I turned slowly and stared at him. “Why?”
The smile dropped from his face. “Uh… because Ms. Pinkoe…” his voice trailed off.
“Ms. Pinkoe what, Tony?”
Now the color left his face. I could tell he didn’t want to say another word. “I, um, probably shouldn’t say. It’s just… well, have you talked to her lately?”
I was already hurrying to the elevators.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I mumbled as it seemed to take the elevator forever to get to Jelly’s floor.
I pulled out the key card and realized my hands were shaking. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm down then swiped it. It still turned green.
Thank goodness. I breathed a sigh of relief. From the way Tony had acted, I’d been afraid she’d moved out and that the locks had already been changed for the next person who’d be living here.
But the moment I walked in, I knew I’d relaxed too soon. If a place can feel empty, this one did. Nothing was immediately amiss. The furniture was where it had always been. The décor was the same. But something was off.
“Jelly?” I called, but there was no answer.
I hurried to her bedroom. The first thing I did was look in the closet. Her side was completely empty. I closed my eyes and slumped back against the wall. I ran a hand over my face and just stood there breathing deeply for a moment.
She moved out.
Shit. When did she do it? Was it right after she’d left my parents’ house? If so, why? I thought back to all the awful things my family had said about her while she’d been in the restroom. What if she’d heard that? What if that was why she’d left?
The nerves I’d been feeling had upgraded again. Now they’d turned to pure panic. I was an idiot. A fool.
Carmen’s attitude towards me earlier tonight made sense if she thought I was ditching Jelly for Gia.
I pulled my phone out and called Jelly. Voicemail. I texted her, but when I still had no response after five minutes, I knew.
She’d moved out. It was over.
I called Carmen.
“Hey, asshole,” she answered.
“If that’s the way you always answer your phone, I think I have a clue as to how you earned your reputation…”
“What do you want?”
“Where’s Jelly?”
“Why should I tell you?”
“I’m just going to go out on a limb and say she’s already moved into her new house. What about the contract? There are still at least two weeks left…”
“Well, there would be if you hadn’t broken a rule.”
“What rule?”
“You signed that contract with the knowledge you wouldn’t date or sleep with other women during the time you were with Jelly.”
“I didn’t,” I said, pissed.
“Really? Because that woman you were with tonight sure looked like she thought she was on a date. Do you know she’s at Cayenne right now telling everyone she’s your girlfriend but that you don’t care if she fucks other people?”
“What? Why would she say that? She’s not my girlfriend. That wasn’t even a real date tonight…”
“What about last night?”
Ah. Leo told her I was at Bahia Del Sol with Gia. For a decent sized city, West Bay still felt like a tiny town sometimes.
“Also not a date.”
“Whatever. You have three days to get your shit out of the condo.” She hung up on me.
I stood there holding the phone and staring into space.
I’d really, truly fucked things up.