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He gives a slow nod and glances around again, then leans across the desk, his belly straining his shirt buttons. “I could get in trouble for telling you this, but Miss Katherine didn’t come home last night.”
My lips drop into a scowl. “You’re sure?”
He nods. “Night guards didn’t see her either. I checked the logs.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me.” I go to step away.
“Kingston.”
I stop. Lean back.
“Mr. Rothburn and Mr. Hunt didn’t come home last night either.”
My insides clench like they’re being crushed in a trash compactor.
“They live here too?”
Vic nods. “Penthouse.”
He almost whispers the word.
They live together.
Just a few floors above Katherine.
What the hell is going on?
“I saw the speculation. But she sounded fine on the phone this morning.” He licks his lips and looks toward the glass wall at the front of the building. “I thought you might want to know.”
“Of course.” I shake his hand again. “Thanks, Vic.”
Keycard in hand, I head to the elevator, blowing out a sigh.
What have you gotten yourself into, Wildfire?
Her apartment is quiet. The last time I was here, it smelled of popcorn, and we laughed our butts off as we watched a comedy special.
First things first, I sit the succulent on the coffee table and head for the nook next to the kitchen to plug my phone in. Then I grab a water bottle from the fridge and have a look around. Everything’s in its place. Clean. Tidy. Beautifully decorated but empty of her amazing energy. Her menagerie of house plants looks healthy and tended.
So where is Katherine?
Pacing back to my phone, I give it a tap, hoping it has enough juice to power up. No such luck.
Prowling back to the windows, I tell the succulent, “This isn’t like her. She’s never out of pocket.”
The little plant has no response for me, and I sigh because I’m losing it. I’m talking to an inanimate object as if I’ve been trapped on a deserted island for years, with only a volleyball to keep me company.
I stare out at the skyline. Whoever called this a concrete jungle was correct. Skyscrapers loom like massive tree trunks, and below, people scurry like ants. A helicopter zooms through the sky, a massive mechanical dragonfly.
I drop to a plank position and hold until my muscles start to burn. One minute turns to two and then three.
I wish New York felt like home.
I wish I was as comfortable here as Katherine is. But although the island of Manhattan houses millions of people, it’s always seemed desolate to me. Probably because growing up, I spent part of the year experiencing the wonder of nature. There’s nothing quite like the open countryside in England on my grandparent’s estate or in Italy, where my mother’s family lives.
Why didn’t I claim her when I had the chance?
I mean, I know why. She was so young. I was, too. I wanted to explore, and there was no way I was locking her into something when she was barely out from under her mother’s thumb.
