2. Brogan
Today had been one from Hell, so it was no surprise that Declan had shown up. The moment he filled my peripheral vision, a sense of peace found only with him filled me. Before I could even rise from my desk to greet him, though, we both heard the sound of a woman’s voice.
Everyone had already gone home for the weekend, so I knew it couldn’t have been any of the women I employed. Declan’s hackles rose at the same time as mine, and he flashed me a look before disappearing into the bathroom attached to my office.
I returned to my work, only looking up when the soft scent of vanilla and something fruity wafted toward me. My eyes met hers, and she had that deer caught in the headlights look to her, and I pursed my lips together until they formed a thin line.
Besides invading my personal space, she was now interrupting my evening as well. As I continued to stare at her, I finally asked the obvious. “Who the hell are you?”
The sound of her audible gulp was heard, but she quickly answered me. “Enslee Byrne, sir. We have an interview.”
“Do we?” I asked before sliding my chair back an inch or two.
“Yes, I’d gotten confirmation on—”
“There must be some mistake. I don’t do interviews.” Her expression fell farther. “And especially not with people like you.”
She squared her shoulders and didn’t flee like most everyone seemed to do these days. It was no secret that my so-called fiancée was missing, and I topped the list of prime suspects, but no one in this fucking building ever dared to mention it while here.
People talked, which was to be expected.
That realization was why I’d made the decisions I’d made in my life about a number of things.
Besides the inappropriate nature of the suspicions and how it would appear as gossip, the entire situation had left me moodier than usual so most left me alone out of sheer fear.
Not this girl dressed casually in a pair of loose jeans and even looser hoodie. At the murderous expression on my face, and my words, she fucking steeled her resolve, which I might’ve found admirable at another time, but not now. And definitely not tonight.
“I received confirmation from your office that you would see me.”
“Well,” I said with a smirk that did not reach my eyes, but made her back up nonetheless. “If you only wanted to see me, consider that mission accomplished. You can now leave.”
“Umm… I actually wanted to… ahh… talk to you about L-Layla Harte.”
The girl practically quaked in her ratty sneakers, but she still stared straight ahead at me. “Are you a reporter?”
“No,” she replied. “I’m a true crime podcaster. I’m hoping to get an exclusive—”
“No crime has been committed, so we have nothing to talk about.”
I rolled back toward my desk, then lowered my eyes back to the papers I’d been analyzing for hours. I’d just finished reviewing the last one before she and Declan had arrived, but she would be none the wiser about that.
The smell of her soap, or possibly perfume, grew louder as she ventured closer. When I saw her shadow fall over my desk as she sat down opposite me, I had to swallow back my low growl. My eyes rose back to her face, but she had grabbed her cell phone.
Afraid she was about to record whatever this was, I was about to confiscate it, but she thrust it toward me.
I humored her by glancing down, and when I did, a litany of curses came out under my breath as I realized the temporary administrative assistant I’d recently replaced had been the one to approve this.
The girl had been a disaster from the start, and since the request had been approved by her a few weeks ago, and just days before I had fired her ass, I wasn’t surprised. While I doubted this had been malicious, it certainly didn’t elevate my opinion of her any at all.
“The one that approved that is no longer here, and I’m busy so…”
I let my voice trail off, and when her lips pursed together much like mine had earlier, I could tell she was also annoyed.
I suspected it looked far more attractive on her.
Had I been someone else, I might’ve looked at those lips, especially the bottom one she’d been nervously chewing on, and wanted to tug it between my teeth.
I might’ve also wanted to see the body perfectly hidden beneath her baggy clothing.
But I’m not most men, and I’m certainly not interested.
There were reasons for that, but those had been a secret since their inception, and they’d need to remain that way until its conclusion.
A growl did escape as I thought about things ending.
My love life was complicated, for lack of a better word, but my lover was all mine, and would remain that way until death parted us.
“I’ve come a long way to see you. Could you not spare me a few minutes of your time?”
Most would accommodate the request, but again, I was unlike others. “No.”
“No?” she asked incredulously.
Her brows furrowed, and I could’ve sworn the hazel orbs beneath them actually watered. Her lip quivered slightly, and her face was a direct contradiction to the confidence her body was hoping to exude.
“It’s two letters, and the word itself is more than most people get from me. Consider yourself lucky then leave.”
“Mr. Sinclair. I’m not here to harm you or your reputation. I’m simply here to get your side of the story. The media and police are saying one thing, and—”
“What are they saying?” I asked as I tried appearing unfazed. I didn’t need her to answer because I had seen a number of the most recent headlines, most initiated by Layla’s shark of a father and his disgusting telecommunication rags.
Reclusive Pharma Tech under suspicion for media heiress’ disappearance
Missing fiancée or worse? CEO Brogan Sinclair under investigation
Foul play suspected in fiancée’s disappearance. Pharma CEO suspect #1
Manhattan Socialite Missing—Foul play by her fiancé is suspected
Actress/Model/Heiress missing. Last seen with fiancé, CEO Sinclair
Embattled fiancé questioned in the disappearance of Layla Harte
“Ahh, just that she’s missing and you’re the prime suspect.”
“A half dozen other tabloids have already beaten you to that conclusion, so if I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time with yesterday’s news.”
She flashed her annoyance at me, and if the situation wasn’t as dire as it was regarding Layla, I might’ve even toyed with this girl.
The last two months had been fucking hell on me, and I was physically and mentally exhausted.
It was hard to live a double life in normal times, but these were extraordinary ones that just kept getting worse instead of better.
“I’ve read everything that they’d said, but I want to hear about those things from you. I’m sure you’re as aware as I am that most of those sites use unflattering headlines as clickbait.”
“An unflattering headline wouldn’t hint at or accuse me of a crime.”
“Exactly! I want to give you an outlet to tell your side of things… in your own words…”
“And how many followers does this ‘little blog’ of yours have? A few hundred, perhaps?”
She cleared her throat, then narrowed her eyes as her lips thinned. From there, she rattled off the number of followers on each social media site she had, including the names of applications that I didn’t even know existed.
Panic filled me at the thought of that many people even seeing my name. My father had been doing his damnedest to keep the news mostly contained here in the city, although other parts of the country had heard about it, as evidenced by her arrival.
“Where are you from, Enslee?”
“Alabama.”
“Birmingham? Mobile? Tuscaloosa? Montgomery? Huntsville?” I asked as I tried to remember all the larger cities in the state, and when she shook her head at all of them, I continued. “A smaller town perhaps.”
“Yes, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”
“Everything. I bet getting an exclusive with me would elevate you to stardom status back home. Whatever your intentions for coming here are, you can erase them completely, as I don’t do interviews. Even if that ever changes, it would never be with you.”
Her eyes glistened more with unshed tears. “You’re very condescending.”
“And you’re irritatingly persistent. The answer is still no.”
“This is ridiculous. Name-calling isn’t a mature act, and it—”
“You started it,” I pointed out. “So who’s the mature one now?”
“All I’m asking for is a few minutes of your time, Mr. Sinclair.”
“I’ve already given you several more than any other outlet has gotten.”
“Please,” she pleaded in a needy voice the moment I stood up.
I wanted to walk around my desk and grab her by the faded hood of her sweatshirt and drag her out of here, but I knew that would only further the opinion that others already had of me.
While I never gave any fucks about what others thought of me, there were very important reasons to maintain my secrecy when it came to this clusterfuck.
My entire future depended upon it. When her eyes matched her earlier words, I flopped back down onto my chair and looked up at her expectantly.
The shock was evident in her now wide eyes when I sat down, and I watched her tongue quickly dart out to moisten her lips before she began to speak once more.
“Did you have anything to do with your fiancée’s disappearance?
” I stared blankly at her, and she seemed to be contemplating something before she softened her expression.
“Would you like to tell me how you and Layla first met?” Again, I stayed silent.
She was like a rabid dog with a bone, though, so she quickly pivoted.
“Do you believe Layla is still alive? That she might’ve left on her own?
That…” her voice trailed off, and she let out a huff.
“Do you intend to speak to me at all right now?”
“The interview is over,” I said when I finally spoke again.
“But it never started. You didn’t—”
“Exactly, but it’s now over.”
“Isn’t there anything you want to say? Even a few words?” she asked, searching my face for anything.
“No!”
“You’re impossible. Best of luck to you with these allegations. Just know they aren’t going away, and you might’ve just ruined your one chance to get your side heard.”
She stood up and walked to the door. Before she could pass over the threshold, I cleared my throat. “Miss Byrne, is it?” The second she stopped and turned, I leveled her with a glare. “If any mention of my name appears on any of your communications, I’ll have my lawyers sue you.”
“Why you—”
“Goodbye!” I interrupted, then returned my focus to my paperwork.
She left in an angry cloud of vanilla and strawberries—yes, that was the intoxicating scent that had tickled my nose as she’d sat near me—and curses as she muttered under her breath about me, I supposed.
I raked a hand through my hair and let out a sharp exhale as a darker and larger outline appeared from the shadows. Rising from my seat, I walked to the door, then peered down the hallway. When I didn’t see Enslee, I pushed the door closed.