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"Jonah. My security staff had eyes on him, and he disappeared. It seems he’s been on St. Thomas all this time. He was so close, and we were looking for him all over the place. He met some woman and he’s been living in her small apartment near the beach," Oliver explained, rubbing his temples.
"What’s he doing for money?" I asked, genuinely concerned.
"Bartending. He used to do that when he was younger," Oliver replied, a hint of a smile on his lips.
"So where did he go?" I pressed.
"Gone. They questioned the woman, and she said she hadn’t seen him. He took off," Oliver said, frustration creeping back into his voice.
"Why do you want him so bad?" I asked, leaning forward.
"Because he could still be in danger. Jonah is a fuck-up, but I still love him," Oliver admitted, his voice breaking slightly.
"If he needs money, he’ll surface again," I reassured him.
"I hope so, before the man looking for him finds him," Oliver said, his worry evident.
"Who is this man?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
I knew Oliver was keeping something from me.
"Jonah never said. It surprised me he didn’t find him after that fight with the kid at the bar," Oliver explained.
"Why would it? It didn’t make national news. It was a stupid bar fight," I said, shaking my head.
"With a policeman’s son. It was high profile enough," Oliver countered.
"Jonah is street smart. He isn’t going to be caught as easily as you think," I reassured him again.
"I hope not," Oliver said, a distant look in his eyes. "I’d like to see the Fox Tower residences," he said, changing the subject.
"We can go now if you like. They’re completing the lobby today. We have four more units to sell, and we’re at capacity," I replied, standing up.
"And we still have another few weeks before we’re ready to open. You did a great job. I’d like to take you to dinner for the fine job," Oliver said, smiling.
"It will have to be another time because my fiancé already asked me to dinner tonight," I replied, a playful glint in my eye.
Oliver chuckled, the tension between us finally dissipating. “Oh, did he? Lucky bastard.”
I giggled as we stood up at the same time. “Would you take lunch instead?”
“I guess so—I haven’t eaten, and I know you haven’t.”
“I had a protein bar earlier in the day,” I said.
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s not enough. Let’s get something delicious. How about French dip sandwiches from Oscar’s?”
My mouth started to water at the thought of Oscar’s, a small joint not far from the office that made the best French dip sandwiches. You could have your sandwich three ways: wet, medium, or dry. Wet meant they soaked the roll in the au jus; medium, they dunked the meat; and dry, they gave you a cup of au jus. The stuff was so damn good you could drink it from the container.
“I want it wet,” I said, already tasting the savory goodness.
“Mmm, just the way I like you,” Oliver murmured, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.
I rolled my eyes. “We’re talking about lunch,” I reminded him, trying to keep the conversation on track.
“And I’m talking about you,” he replied, tightening his arms around my waist. I couldn’t help but smile as he held me. “I love you, Ryleigh. Forgive me?” he asked, his voice soft and sincere.
“It’s long forgotten. Can we go to lunch?” I asked, leaning into him.
