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“Caleb’s been arrested.”
Another, longer pause. “Sorry. What did you say? Sounded like you said Caleb was arrested.”
“Yes. It’s a big mess, but his partner had him ousted from his position at Sterling Cross, and when he went back to the office, they had him arrested.” I look up at the driver, who’s tapping the steering wheel impatiently. “I don’t know—”
“All right. He’d be down at the Midtown South. I’ll make some calls and head over there.” His breathing sounds labored, as if he’s already jumping into action.
“Thank you. Thank you so—”
“You should head home, Juliet.”
I frown. As if going home will relieve the massive lump of guilt inside me. “Oh, but if I can help in any way, I want to—”
“Go home.”
He ends the call.
I shift in my seat, staring at the display, then look up at the driver, waiting expectantly for the address.
“Midtown South,” I say. “As fast as you can.”
Ten minutes later, the cab pulls up in front of the precinct. I climb the stairs and go inside, and immediately, all eyes are on me. There are police officers, tough criminals, prostitutes, all kinds of riffraff, and I’m the only one in an evening gown. I’m sure Caleb probably got the same looks when he came in here in his tux.
I attack the counter in the main lobby. The female officer behind it doesn’t look up from her computer. “Excuse me?”
Letting out an annoyed grunt, she doesn’t rush to look up at me. “Can I help you?”
“Yes. Did you bring a Caleb Sterling here?”
A dreamy look washes over her face, one most women have upon the mention of the name Caleb Sterling. “Oh, yes. Oh. Yes.”
She sounds like she’s just nodded off into a fantasy involving the two of them. I suppose I can’t blame her. Caleb Sterling alone is enough to wet panties, but Bad Boy Caleb Sterling in handcuffs is probably a whole other level.
Now, I’m the one who’s annoyed as I wave my hand in front of her face. “Can I see him?”
She shakes her head. “Sorry. He’s in a meeting with his attorney.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You mean, Jonathan’s here already?”
She nods.
Okay, that’s good. He’s going to get this taken care of. Everything’s going to be okay.
Even so, I’m so full of nervous energy that I start to pace, wearing a path in the lobby. After a few minutes, I’m aware of everyone looking at me. I retreat to an empty chair in the corner and try to keep still, but I can’t stop tapping my foot and gnawing on my thumbnail.
It’s only as I’m ripping the nail off that the door opens, and Caleb appears. His bowtie is undone, his hair a little scruffy, eyes tired, five o’clock shadow in full-effect. He’s followed by a man in a dark custom suit and severe haircut that has to be his attorney.
My heart jumps. I spring up.
He glances at me for a beat—no, half a beat—before stalking toward the door.
Totally dismissive.
So that’s how he’s going to play it? He’s going to ignore me? His enemy?
“Caleb!” I cry, hating how desperate my voice has become.
He turns, then murmurs something to Jonathan, who nods and heads through the door. Then he bridges the distance between us.
