Though the clients wouldn’t care, he felt the urge to cover for her. Or maybe that’s what he wanted to believe because it was easier than contemplating a scarier possibility.
Oliver’s brows rose over his sharp blue eyes. “She looked perfectly fit this morning.”
So someone had seen her today. She was still here. Eric breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Tate leaned in. “Where is she?”
Eric exchanged a glance with Kellan. They had to teach Tate how to adopt a halfway decent poker face.
“I don’t know. It actually wasn’t morning when we saw her, more like the middle of the night.” Callum chuckled. “We went out drinking a bit after the reception. It was three a.m. when we returned. I was surprised she would leave at such an odd hour.”
“Leave?” Tate demanded.
“We presumed she was,” Rory said, pushing his chair in. “She rolled her baggage out. That’s an ugly dog, by the way.”
Eric gaped, realizing that he wasn’t doing a good job of hanging onto his own poker face. “She left with her suitcase at three a.m.?”
“She had a dog?” Tate looked really perplexed.
Kell elbowed Tate. “Did she say anything?”
“Not a lot, simply that she planned to start a new business.” Oliver shrugged. “I’m sad to see her go. She was always efficient and quite kind. But it looks as if she’s making out all right. That Mercedes was a beauty of a car. Brilliant.”
Rory sighed. “There’s something terribly wrong when you notice the car before a woman as beautiful as Belle. I sincerely hope, for everyone’s sake, that your libido makes a reappearance soon.”
Callum took a swipe at the back of his little brother’s head. “Stop being a barmy fuck.”
Oliver’s expression turned even colder. Eric could barely remember the Oliver he’d first met—the life of every party, the first with a joke or a smile.
Now, the man simply nodded their way. “Thank you for breakfast. I’ll be on my way. Gentlemen.”
As he walked away, Callum and Rory sighed.
“Sorry about that. He’s still not himself. I’d hoped coming on this American tour with me would revive his spirits. It’s been over a year since Yasmin’s death.” Callum watched his older brother go, concern etched all over his famous face.
Eric knew more about the story than most. Not only had Yasmin tried to kill her husband, she’d aborted several of his children, all the while calling them miscarriages and using her “grief” to extort money from her mourning husband.
Yeah, Oliver might never trust a woman again.
Rory leaned in, obviously not one to let a little tragedy keep him down. “Hey, when you hire your next secretary, make sure she’s at least as hot as Belle. Gorgeous girl, but she took that rule about not dating clients far too seriously.” He shook his head. “I tried. More than once. Shame.”
After a good-bye Eric barely heard, the Brits walked away. And he felt a nasty hollow gnaw at the pit of his stomach. Anger threatened to take over.
“She went back to Chicago without us?” Kellan’s jaw formed a tight line. He was obviously as furious as Eric felt.
Tate was already on his phone, but he hung up quickly. “It’s going straight to voice mail.”
The other two looked to him. What the hell should they do? Giving Belle time to herself hadn’t done anything but allow her to run. Worry started to shove aside the anger and guilt. She’d gotten on the road at three in the morning? By herself? She couldn’t have had any sleep. She shouldn’t be driving on lonely highways while exhausted. “We don’t know that she went back to Chicago. That’s a long drive to make by herself.”
“Well, apparently she has a dog with her.” Tate’s fingers tapped against the desk, a nervous habit Eric recognized from their high school days. “Why would she run?”
“Because she wants to teach us a lesson.” Kellan cursed and his mouth turned down, his eyes softening with regret. “Because I hurt her last night. Damn it. I need to see her. Even if this doesn’t work out, I need to apologize. She should know why I can’t commit to anyone.”
A sudden thought hit Eric. “Doesn’t Kinley drive a Benz?”
Kellan sighed in clear relief. “She’s probably gone to Kinley’s. Thank god. They only live about thirty minutes from here. We’ll find her in less than an hour. Let’s go.”
As they turned to leave, a familiar blonde strode into the café with Jessa Lennox and the oil tycoons’ wife, Hannah James. The ladies smiled and laughed, but the minute Kinley saw them, her pretty face morphed into a mask of contempt. She turned on her heels and directed the other women to a different section of the café.