Dirty Rumor: A Bad Boy Billionaire Romance(49)
“Damn it.”
My secretary, Cecily, whom I share with several of the others in this unit, pokes her head in the door. “Mr. Kingsley? Is everything all right?”
“I don’t have time to send an email.”
Her forehead wrinkles. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kingsley, I—”
I run a hand through my hair. “I’m not going to be in for the rest of the afternoon. Or the morning.” I want to be decisive, striding out of here with a f*cking purpose, and I’m losing my damn mind over the possibility that it’s already too late.
I have to get to her now.
“Mr. Kingsley? What can I do for you?”
Even Cecily seems to think I’m cracking up. Maybe I am.
“I need you to cancel the meetings. Any meetings that I have today. Reschedule them for next week. All of my commitments are in the calendar. And I’m going to need an away message.”
“Of course, Mr. Kingsley. Is there anything else?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
She nods, stepping back out into the hall.
I take my phone off the surface of the desk and send a hasty text to Noah, who responds with his characteristic On the way, boss. The car will be at the curb when I get downstairs.
“Mr. Kingsley?” Cecily is back at the door, rapping gently at the doorframe.
“Yes?”
She has a little smile on her face, and it makes me wonder how much the secretaries here just know.
“Whatever you’re doing…good luck.”
I’m sure as hell going to need it.
Noah shuts the door behind me after I slide into the backseat of the Bentley, scrolling through my phone even though all I can think of to do is text Carolyn.
And I don’t want to text her.
Even in my most desperate hour, I don’t want to start with a pathetic text message begging her for her current location so I can throw myself at her feet.
Not literally.
Maybe f*cking literally, if that’s what it takes.
Noah pulls his own door shut behind him and turns around, throwing his arm over the back of the seat.
“Where to, boss?”
“Boss,” I say, under my breath. “How many times—” That shit doesn’t matter at all. Noah grins at me, eyes shining. I’m not in the habit of leaving in the middle of the workday, and he knows it.
“Who are we looking for, boss?” I can tell he’s trying to stifle a laugh, so I look at him with narrowed eyes.
“How do you know we’re looking for someone?”
“You’ve been staring out the window all week, mooning about Carolyn. Any idiot can tell you miss the hell out of her. So where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You know.”
“I don’t.”
“Text her, then.”
“No.”
Noah rolls his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, then gives me a look that I would never tolerate if he weren’t such a close friend.
“Fine. Where do you think she might be?”
It’s hard to think straight because I’m so f*cking wrapped up in what I have to do.
“She’s probably at the boutique.”
“That store she owns? Couple blocks away?”
“How do you know that?”
Another look.
Noah turns around and peers into the sideview mirror, then steers the car back into traffic.
“Wait.”
“I’m taking you to that store, boss. If you sulk for another week I’m going to lose my damn mind, and so is everyone else.”
“There’s something else I need to do first.”
The idea comes to me in a painful flash, but it makes such complete and total sense that once my mind works out the logistics, there’s no way I can’t follow through.
Carolyn will know my apology is absolutely sincere. She’ll have no choice but to believe me.
And even if she chooses not to, I’ll move on with my life knowing that I did everything possible to win her back, up to and including baring all the details of the worst parts of my past. Every little thing.
If she wants to know about me, she can.
I love her too much to live any other way.
I love her too f*cking much.
My heart throbs with it, aches with it, until I think it might burst.
I have to get to her.
“Safe deposit box,” I say to Noah the next time I can get a breath.
This is in motion now, and I’m not going to stop until I find her.
Chapter 45
Carolyn
Scott Richards, my financial manager, purses his lips and looks across the desk at me.
He’s not my favorite person in the world, but he’s been adept at managing my money all these years, so I’ve been able to forgive him for his occasional older man bullshit.
Right now, unfortunately, it’s in full force.
“Ms. Banks, I’m just not entirely convinced that selling this asset would be in your best financial interests.”
“Why not, Scott?”
He taps his fingers together in front of his chest like the banker in Monopoly and takes in a breath through his nose. “When we originally purchased the storefront, it was worth far less. Your renovations, and increased traffic over the past year, have increased its worth considerably. I can only expect that to continue. Selling now could lose you millions in future profit.”