way she feels in my arms, calms a bit of the beast that is my emotions raging inside me. I enter my apartment—no, my father’s apartment, a matter I need to remedy now, not later—discovering Emily absent from the bar where I expect her to be waiting. Her coffee is there though, and I reach for it, finding it untouched since I left.
Scanning the kitchen and lower level, I see no sign of her presence. A bad feeling rolls through me and I glance toward the balcony, the rain splattering the window ruling out the idea she might be there. Listening, I look to the steps, but there is silence encasing me, and I know she is gone. And I know I’m going after her. I head for the door, exiting into the hallway, and I don’t stop until I’m at the elevator, inside the car, and punching the button for the lobby level. Perfectly still, I stand there, staring ahead, shoving that beast born of my emotions into a mental box to be analyzed at a more appropriate time. Right now, I have one agenda. Emily, who beyond reason, is important to me. Maybe it’s the timing of meeting her. Maybe it’s the hope and optimism in her eyes and her words that defy whatever she thinks has beaten her but I know has not. Whatever it is she does to me, I need it, which means I need her.
The elevator dings again, and I step to the doors, exiting the car the instant they part, and striding toward the front of the hotel.
“Good morning, Mr. Brandon,” someone murmurs.
I lift a hand, my gaze scanning for Emily, my approach to the front of the building never slowing. Finally, I reach the double glass doors, and they part, and I exit to find Tai just outside to my right, rain pounding the awning above us, splattering the ground beyond.
“Did you see Emily leave?” I ask him.
He looks baffled. “No sir. Should I have?”
“Did anyone else?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“I’m certain she didn’t come through the front of the building. Considering the weather, she’d have needed a car and I would have handled that for her.”
“If she didn’t come through here, where would she be?”
“This is the only exit other than the garage. She must still be in the building.”
The garage. Fuck me. “If she shows up, stall her and call me.”
“Of course,” he says, but I’m already giving him my back and entering the hotel again, my legs quickly eating up the space between me and my intended goal. I reach the elevators and opt for the stairs, heading down a level to the only floor allowing access to the street. Entering the garage, I scan and find no signs of Emily, and considering she’ll be walking in the rain, I head for my car, fully intending to search for her. Clicking the locks, I’m about to open the door, when I spy a note on the front window. I grab it and find the delicate scribble of a woman’s hand.
I’m too complicated. I can’t do that to you. I’m sorry.
Don’t let your tongue be your worst enemy.
—John Franzese
CHAPTER EIGHT
SHANE
I tell myself to let Emily go, but the idea of her being battered by the storm has me driving the nearby streets, ensuring she’s not in need of aid. But I don’t find her, and she’s made it clear she doesn’t want my help. The problem is, I can’t seem to shake the idea that she needs it, nor can I dismiss her as a passing fuck. Shoving the note she’d left into my pocket, I reluctantly accept that for the moment, my search is over, and I drive toward the office. My father’s words when I’m gone run through my mind, and I quickly detour to the highway, heading toward my parents’ house with the full intent of finding out what is going on with both of them.
The next twenty minutes have me stuck in hellish traffic, wishing for a Manhattan subway to cut the time that is money, all the while in my own head, and not my father’s. I don’t need to consider what he’d meant with his accusation of my “weakness.” That was about me hanging on to New York and a career I’d busted my ass to create. But I’m past that now, and my focus is Derek’s weakness: his lack of morality, which he hates in me, paired with his greed. By the