Chapter Forty-Six

Beau

“What do you mean? You called me.” Annabel laughs nervously, and the sound sends pure pleasure through every inch of me. Some of the dread dissipates. I waited too long to make this phone call. She should have been the first one I called, but I had to square things away with Edgar Sykes.

God, Kinsey is a possessive bitch. After that dinner I kept calling until Edgar got on the phone. He wasn’t thrilled to hear from me.

“You got your information from Kinsey Cole,” I said sharply. “That’s why you dropped me.”

“I can’t comment on—”

“Don’t be that way with me, Edgar. We’ve worked with each other for years. Kinsey Cole is upset because in her mind she’s been wronged by another woman.” It made my stomach turn to reveal such personal information to Edgar, but that was the ball game. “I dated her in high school. It was a mistake. She’s never gotten over it. This was a jealousy issue, Edgar. It was all fabricated.”

He was silent. Then:

“Kinsey’s your niece, isn’t she?”

This was a threat, though I said it in the mildest of tones. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before that she’d do something like that, but Edgar prides himself on meticulous research. On meticulous decision-making. There are very few blind spots in his methods. Kinsey, apparently, is one of them.

“Yes,” he said shortly.

“You should have another talk with her. Call me back when you’ve finished.”

He said nothing, but I could tell by the pause that he was about to hang up.

“Edgar,” I said.

Another short pause, as if he was lifting the phone again. “Yes?”

“I’ll do another background check, if that’s what you need.”

The line went dead.

This morning at the office, Linda met me with a folder. A complete background workup and a meeting with an investigator from Edgar’s department. That ate up most of the day. The rest was filled with meetings. Even if Edgar’s projects are back in play, I still want to make Bennett Inc. a massive empire in its own right. I never want to feel so vulnerable again.

“I did call you,” I say to Annabel. “Are you—is this a bad time?” There’s a lot of background noise and what sounds like two people arguing.

“I’m actually buying a new cell phone,” she says, and the words sound strange. We should be saying other words to each other. “I’m in the middle of the process.” She drops her voice. “I . . . may have made a bit of a scene. Can I call you back?”

“Of course,” I say. I want to say I love you. Call me any time of the day or night. Better yet, come back to my penthouse and sleep in my bed. The world is a sad, gray place without your face in it. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Bye,” she says quickly, then hangs up.

What do I do with myself during this interminable wait?

Why didn’t I do this earlier?

Because I was wallowing, that’s why, and it was hellishly stupid. She’d been so angry. I’d been so angry. I couldn’t call without an explanation, and until last night I didn’t have one. Now that things are smoothed over, I can beg her for her forgiveness.

It’s forty agonizing minutes before my cell phone rings. For once it’s not West. It’s Annabel.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she says, and bloody hell, I’m at attention hearing her voice again. “You called.” It’s quiet around her now. She must be walking home or to the subway. I swallow the worry. It’s not fully dark out yet, but it is getting later.

“I did call,” I say, the awkwardness growing painful. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Hmm,” Annabel says. “I don’t know if that’s the greatest idea.”

It’s a stab wound right to the gut, but I’m not going to let it hold me back. I’m going to jump in. That’s the way to live. I know that now. “I can see why you would think that. What I said to you—it wasn’t true. It was mean and terrible, and I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” I barrel on before she can stop me. “I’ve missed you every single minute, Annabel, and I understand if you never want to talk to me again.” An idea is half-formed in the back of my mind. I can show her. I can show her everything, if she’ll give me a chance. “I’m not asking for you to have a long conversation with me right now or even tomorrow. God, I—” I swallow back a lump in my throat. “Could you meet me at the Pearl on Sunday night at seven?”

There’s a long silence. In the background I hear a sustained blow on a car horn, but over all of it is Annabel’s soft breathing. “I guess . . .”

Everything in my soul hinges on this moment. She could hang up right now, and I might never hear from her again. She could do that. She’s left places before. I would not be the first person to be left behind by Annabel Forester.

“I guess I could do that.”

I leap out of my chair and punch straight up into the air. The idea is fully formed now. I have two days to make it happen.

That’s it.

That’s all I need.

I can do this.

“I don’t want to—” Annabel clears her throat. She sounds shy. “I don’t want to rush you off the phone, not if there is something else you want to talk to me about, but I should get down to the next train. Dinner and all that.”

There’s so much I want to say to her that there are no words to contain it all. “I’ll see you Sunday?”

“I’ll be there,” she says softly. Then she hangs up.

I don’t bother getting my jacket. I sprint for the door of my office, shouting for Linda to call Winston and have the car brought around. There’s no time to lose.