Page 20 of Don't Tell

My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s an email from my assistant. He wants me to know that the renovations are done, the car is back and ready in the city, and my driver is on standby for my call.

I should leave today. I don’t have a reason to remain here. Suzanne has signed the NDA. There’s nothing keeping us together.

Except, there is an invisible string holding us together now. Besides, my theory was right. When I kissed her, her lips turned red. I intend to test that theory again.

The key card sounds at the suite door. I hear the door open. I hear the cart wheel onto the carpet. I don’t leave the room yet. I don’t want to seem too eager. Yes, I’ve been waiting for her, but she doesn’t have to know that.

I busy myself with mindless work. At some point, I rise to my feet and begin heading toward the living room. I change my mind at the very last second. I need to let her come to me.

Finally, and fortunately, the bedroom door opens. We make eye contact immediately, and I’m transported to that moment in this very room. She’s thinking about it too. Her cheeks turn a low shade of red.

I match her gaze, daring her to look away. She does. She also doesn’t say hello. I didn’t expect her to. It’s been our dance for the past few days now.

I pick a random document from my desk and read. It’s a contract for a new artist I should have signed days ago. My eyes fly over the words, but my brain doesn’t pick up anything.

Before I can stop myself, I’m watching her move again. I wish she would look at me. I’m well aware that I need to be careful, especially after what happened yesterday. I can’t push too much, or else I’ll risk driving her away entirely.

Suzanne finally makes her way to the desk. I don’t move as she cleans. Her knuckles are white, fingers tightening around the cloth more than I know is necessary.

She finally tilts her head up, and her eyes find mine. “Can you move?”

I resist the urge to grin. “I can, but only if you say please.”

Hot, white rage fills her eyes. Her fingers move up to my arm. She pushes me aside so she can wipe down that area and moves on to the coffee table.

“Suzanne, I’m not satisfied.”

She ignores me. The tips of her ears are red now. I want to kiss her. I have to stop myself, though. Otherwise, she’ll probably bite my lip off if I try. I decide to remain silent and just let her do her job.

But I don't stop watching her. The contract is forgotten in my hands. Soon enough, she rises to her feet, tucks the cloth into her cart, and walks out without a word.

Well, that was awfully cold. But not to worry, I’ll definitely fix that.

As if on cue, my phone starts ringing against the desk. It’s Marisol. Hopefully she has some good news for me.

“Hello, Mr. Nightingale.”

I nod to the room. “Talk to me.”

“It was hard, but we pulled some footage from the parking lot. One of the cars had a working dashcam. We were able to find the owner and get the footage. I’ll email it to you.”

My phone remains against my ear as I open my laptop. The footage loads, and there is the woman from that night. It captures her coming out of a car, and then she’s gone almost immediately.

“Did you find her?”

“Yes. But it wasn’t easy. We were looking for a redhead. Our girl is a brunette.” She sends me another picture of an innocent-looking brown-haired woman, not the vixen who accosted me that night.

“Who sent her?”

“Maddox.”

“Henrik? Isn’t he dead? Did he come back to life to haunt me?”

“No. The son, Adrian Maddox of Maddox Corporations.”

I laugh loudly. I should have known. Well, I wouldn’t have guessed that scrawny little kid has the balls to attempt something against me. He’s tried in the past. Both times through trade-press anonymous comments. And both times he failed.

I’ll give it to him — he caught me at a convenient time. But that will never happen again. I’ll make sure of it.