Rise - Part One (Rise #1)(26)

After four rings, Landon's voicemail finally picks up. I end the call without leaving another message.

"Mr. Beckett may be out for the evening." The doorman rounds the desk that he's usually sitting behind. "You can take a seat over there and wait for him."

If I do that, I may be waiting all night. I glance back at two large armchairs that are against a wall near the lobby doors. It's not my bed but if I have to choose between one of the chairs, and the concrete step outside my building, I'll choose this.

"I'll do that." I motion towards the chairs.

He nods. "I'm going on a break. Don't touch anything while I'm gone."

I try not to take offense as I settle into one of the chairs. I pull my hair up into a messy bun with an elastic band I've had on my wrist all day. I'm hot, I'm tired and I just want my keys.

I open the note app on my phone and start typing in ideas for the bakery event. I've had that on my mind since the impromptu meeting at the café earlier. I don't want to lose the ideas I've already come up with, so I make a quick note of each. I can flesh them out tomorrow once I'm settled in my office.

I glance toward the doorman's desk and out of the corner of my eye I watch him disappear behind a door, a thick book tucked beneath his arm.

It doesn't take me more than a few seconds to grab my purse, push my smartphone inside it and stand. Now is my chance to actually go up to Landon's apartment to knock on the door. I highly doubt he's ignoring me on purpose, but if he is asleep, I'm certain I can raise enough of a stir to rouse him from bed so I can finally get my keys.

Two men and a woman not much older than I am walk through the doors of the lobby. They're all laughing, while one of the men tells a story about an interview he had that went all kinds of wrong. I smile as I follow them to the lift, wondering briefly what it would feel like to have a group of friends like that. They're all so young, carefree and obviously returning home after spending the evening enjoying each other's company and maybe a few drinks.

I gaze down at my smartphone as I wait with them for the elevator to come down to the lobby. It's near one now and if I can't get my keys from Landon I'm going to have no choice but to call Ivy to ask if I can crash at her place. I already know the answer. I just hate having to disrupt her entire family because of a simple mistake on my part.

I hear voices approaching from behind me as I glance up to see where the elevator is. It's been stuck at the sixth floor since one of the other women pressed the call button.

I scan my finger across my smartphone's screen, searching for my cousin's number. I scroll through my address book. My hand stalls when I hear a male voice behind me.

It's not him. Landon's voice is deeper. I turn quickly to confirm it and I'm greeted with the sight of two men in their forties who look as though they just left their office for the day. They push through the people gathered so one of the men can dart his finger into the already lit call button.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the elevator finally starts its downward journey. I follow the lights as they count out each floor. I step back when it nears its stop. I doubt that anyone is on board at this time of night, but judging by the group waiting to get on, I'm not going to take any chance.

The doors fly open.

I hear Landon's voice before I see his face.

I watch the movement of his head as he turns to the left to look at the man standing next to him in the lift.

I don't need an introduction. There's no question about who he is.

His hair is gray, time has added lines to his face but the smile that I saw in the pictures in Landon's apartment that captured his joy when he was posing with his sons is still there as is the pendant hanging around his neck.

It's him.

Standing beside Landon, in the elevator, is his father.

He's the victim dozens searched for.

He's the husband Landon's mother mourned for.

He's the man who has secrets…

Secrets he shares with his son.





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About the Author


Deborah Bladon has never read a romance hero she didn't like. Her love for romance novels began when she was old enough to board the bus, library card in hand to check out the newest Harlequin paperbacks. She's a Canadian by heart, and by passport, but you can often spot her in New York City sipping a latte and looking for inspiration for her next story. Manhattan is definitely her second home.