chew my head off about that, though I don't even know how he learned about what happened. For all I know, he has someone spying on me here in Zurich. Paranoid old man. If so, then he might already know about me and Stella. Is that why he's blaming me for all this? Because he thinks I was too preoccupied with other affairs to keep it from happening? How the hell was I supposed to know one of Odermatt's employees wasn't right in the head?
Even so, I've done everything I can to make things right. I've already commissioned my own investigative team to track down that prick. I've already called in favors. I have people keeping an eye on those other companies. Thank goodness this happened in Switzerland so I don't have to deal with a media circus, too, though I still have someone watching the internet. If anyone on the web mentions Odermatt, I'll know. What else am I supposed to do? What else can I do?
Nothing. That's the thing. I've done all I can. There's nothing left to do now except to wait. And hope that another company isn't making use of those files right now to accomplish what I've been planning for the past several months, hope that this acquisition isn't going to blow up in my face.
Still, I can't wait forever. I'm scheduled to go back the day after tomorrow, and I will, no matter what. If that thief is found with the files, the acquisition process will continue and I'll go back to my office triumphant, ready to take the company a step further as soon as everything becomes official. If not, I'll have to spend the next few weeks locked up in my office dealing with the fallout and racking my brains to come up with a plan to somehow still keep the company not just afloat but at the top of the game. I'm getting a headache just thinking about it.
I pour myself another glass of Scotch - I've lost count of how many I've had - and gulp it down. The bitter alcohol blazes down my throat and sends my head buzzing. I close my eyes. If only it could make me forget this hell I'm going through, even for just a moment.
Just then, I hear a knock on the door. I almost say "Come in" but remember I'm in a hotel room and I'm the only one with the key. Unless Asher borrowed one from the receptionist again, in which case he wouldn't knock.
I put my glass down and walk to the door. Who knows? It might be Simone Odermatt himself, come to bring me news or some plan to save both our companies.
As soon as I open the door, I see it isn't. It's Stella in a knitted white dress, half her hair pulled back and the rest loose behind her shoulders. I see my folded scarf in her hands. I realize I haven't seen her for nearly a whole day.
I'm seized with an urge to wrap my arms around her so I can feel hers around me. Maybe she can do what the Scotch can't. But she clears her throat.
"I thought I'd return this..." she says as she offers the scarf to me. "Sir."
Sir? What's with the sudden formality?
Then I see the lack of warmth in her eyes. Is she mad at me? I'm not sure, but I am sure that I don't see any glimmer of concern in her expression. And here I thought she'd be worried about me since I haven't come out of my room. But she's just here to return the scarf.
I go back to the couch feeling annoyed. "You can just put it on the bed."
Stella enters the room and does that. I sit down and pour myself another glass. I'm about to bring it to my lips but realize she's still standing there by the bed. She's just standing there with an expression of awe on her face. Or is it disgust? Is she appalled by the sight of the nearly empty bottle of Scotch in front of me, the plate of grilled cheese sandwiches that someone delivered to my room but which I couldn't muster any appetite to eat, or the fact that I haven't changed since she last saw me? I'm still in that same pale blue button-down shirt, albeit unbuttoned.
"What?" I ask her when five seconds pass and she still hasn't said a word.
"Nothing," Stella answers, even though she obviously