Thorne Princess(118)

“What do you want?” Keller asked.

Obviously, Hallie had not sung my praises to her best friend after our showdown.

“I’ll be in the area in a couple of hours and I’d like to meet Miss Thorne. Can you tell me her new address?”

“No, I cannot,” he said resolutely. “You can call her and ask for yourself.”

“We both know the answer will be no.” I wondered what inspired me to have this conversation on the phone and not face-to-face. Keller had a weakness for aesthetically pleasing people. “And I want to talk to her.”

“And I want to romance Neil Patrick Harris. But guess what? He’s already taken. And I’m not a homewrecker. Oh, and I’m pretty sure he lives in Sherman Oaks, where the traffic is insane.”

This man was entirely too much. How Hallie suffered through a conversation with him was a mystery.

“Keller.” I used my most menacing tone. “She’d want to hear what I have to say.”

“Sure about that, honey?” he asked sweetly. “Great. Then call her and ask for her address. Buh-bye!”

He hung up the phone. I looked at the device with a scowl, then dialed Max. He answered immediately. I didn’t even care that he was filling a post in Russia and was in a different time zone.

“Max.”

“What’s up, boss?”

“I need Hallie Thorne’s new address.” This was also going to give me a good indication as to whether the two kept in touch or not.

There was a beat of silence before he said, “Boss…I have no idea. I tried to call her a few times after what happened. She never picked up and I didn’t want to get in trouble.”

Fuck.

“Is there anything—” he started, but I hung up on his face, dialing the next number.

NeNe, her friend—she hadn’t heard from her in months.

Dennis, her former driver—he told me to go fuck myself, not in so many words, for hurting his Hallie.

It became clear to me that I had to do what I very much dreaded. I dialed the number, shifting uneasily in my seat.

Love, my ass. Love is supposed to be fun and cozy. I’ve seen movies. This is fatal attraction bullshit.

The line went alive with a soft click.

“Lockwood? Is everything okay?”

I had the former president of the United States on the line. All because I wanted to talk to a girl. Fuck my life sideways. If this plane crashed in a few minutes, I would not be missed.

“President Thorne. Yes. Nothing to worry about,” I said coolly, hoping I sounded less deranged than my actions right now. “I called to check in.”

“So early in the morning?” He chuckled. “I don’t think so, and I’m a busy man, so you better spit it out, son.”

This. Was. Painful.

“I’m on my way to Los Angeles and I wanted to have a word with your daughter. I’m finding it hard to reach her.” Mainly because I don’t have the balls to call her and get her voicemail. “I was wondering if you’d be able to give me her address, sir.”

“Her address?” he repeated, recovering from his shock quickly. “I don’t think so, Ransom. I just won her trust back. Barely. I’m not going to break it.”

Something interesting happened to me in that moment. I felt genuine relief. Not because he wouldn’t cooperate—fuck that, it was another setback I didn’t need—but because I liked to hear that Hallie was reconnecting with her family.

I had to get off the phone and start making my connections in Los Angeles work.

“All right,” I said, powering up my laptop as we spoke. “Have a—”

“That’s it?” Thorne asked, sounding almost offended.

“Huh?”

“You’re just going to take no for an answer?”

I arched my eyebrows, wondering if the fucker was having a stroke.

“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman, but even my ass was taught no means no.”

“‘No’ always means open to negotiations,” Thorne replied. “‘Get the fuck out’ means no. That’s the rule.”

I sat back, stroking my bottom lip. “All right. Let’s negotiate.”

“Where are you right now?” he asked.

“A private plane. Geographically speaking, we’re above Colorado. Just passed Boulder.”

“She is not going to like the private plane angle.”

“In this case, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt us?”

“Fair enough. What are your intentions with my daughter?”

Fuck her into the next decade?

Beg for her forgiveness?

Ask her out on a date?

I had no game plan. No strategy. I was playing it by ear, and I loathed every minute of it.

“Just talk,” I said through a tight jaw.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Fair enough. “I would like to explain myself and my actions. We parted ways not on the best terms, and I feel that there’s room for an apology on my end.”

“Getting warmer.” Thorne chuckled, and I heard him lighting up a cigar. “Try again.”

“What do you want me to say?” I roared, losing it. “That I can’t stop thinking about her? That I’m obsessed with her? That I want to be next to her all the time? That I know she’s too good for me, too young for me, too everything for me, and still don’t give a damn?”