Wall Street Titan (Wall Street Titan #1) - Anna Zaires Page 0,88
She’s not answering the door for some reason.”
She blinks up at me, her frown disappearing. “You’re looking for Emma?”
“Yes. Do you know where she is? I can’t reach her.”
“Oh, I see.” She gives me a thorough once-over, her gaze lingering on my Italian coat as if trying to price it out. “Are you her boyfriend or something?”
I reach deep for my patience. “Yes, we’re dating. Do you know why she’s not answering the door?”
“Well, of course, dear. She left for the airport extra early—you know, because of all the snow on the roads.”
Fuck. “When did she leave?”
“I’m not sure. A half hour ago? Twenty minutes, maybe?” She cocks her head. “How long have you two been dating? I’m looking after her cats, and Emma hasn’t mentioned a boyfr—”
“It’s new,” I interrupt, and hurry back to the car before the woman can launch into an interrogation.
There’s no time to waste.
I have a stubborn redhead to catch before she gets on the plane.
The traffic to the airport is horrendous, so bad that even Wilson’s driving skills can’t help. After two and a half hours of inching forward a foot a minute, I finally see the cause of the jam: an accident in the left lane. As soon as we pass it, the traffic starts moving more briskly, but the damage is done.
Emma’s flight is due to start boarding in a half hour.
Taking a deep breath to combat my frustration, I try calling her again.
Voicemail. Same as the other five times I’ve tried it.
I text her again.
Nothing. No response.
Fighting the urge to slam the phone against the window, I check the airline app.
The fucking flight is on time, and the boarding starts in twenty-three minutes.
Even if I were at the airport right now, I’d need longer than that to clear security.
She’s going to get on the plane with this huge fucking thing unresolved.
Unless…
Without giving myself a chance to think twice, I call my transportation PM.
“Richard, it’s Carelli,” I say as soon as he picks up. “I need you to get the CEO of United Airlines to call me right now. It’s urgent.”
I know the portfolio manager is dying to ask why—airline stocks are his province—but he understands the concept of urgency.
Five minutes later, I have United Airlines’ CEO on the phone. Six minutes after that, when I hang up and check the app again, the flight is delayed by an hour—and I’ve promised to abstain from shorting UAL stock for six months, to spare the CEO from explaining to his board why there’s a giant hedge fund betting against them.
The traffic clears further as we approach the airport, and I almost feel bad for holding up the plane by an hour. A half hour might’ve been plenty. When I enter the airport, however, I’m glad for the extra cushion.
The place is overrun with frantic holiday travelers and pissed-off flyers stranded by the storm. It’s so bad that by the time I get through the mile-long security line, First Class and Priority boarding for Emma’s flight has already begun.
I begin pushing my way through the crowd massed at the gate, searching for her bright hair.
There. A small, curvy figure toward the front of the Economy Class line. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a white hoodie, she’s holding a boarding pass in one hand and the handle of a small, raggedy-looking suitcase in the other.
My pulse picks up, my skin prickling with savage heat.
Fuck, I’ve missed her so much.
I was an idiot to stay away.
Feeling like a hunter honing in on his prey, I head directly for her. Other people must sense my grim determination, because they get out of my way. She’s staring straight ahead, so she doesn’t see me until I stop next to her.
And by then, it’s too late.
“Emma.” I reach out to clasp her wrist just as her gaze jumps to my face, gray eyes wide with shock. “We need to talk.”
She’s so stunned that she lets me pull her out of the crowd without protest. It’s only when we’re standing by the empty seats in the corner that she finds her tongue. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is higher-pitched than normal. “How did you get through security?”
I release her wrist to pull a boarding pass out of my pocket. “I bought this on the drive over.” It’s for a flight to Omaha, the only one that had a seat available today. Stuffing it back in my pocket, I say, “Listen, we need to talk about—”