Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(41)

Russell refused to show an ounce of self-consciousness. But it stung. Maybe this guy wasn’t the corporate drone he appeared to be. There was a sharpness to Mitchell that hadn’t been apparent when he spoke to Abby outside.

But he’d think about it later. Right now, he wanted to go find Abby. He didn’t like the idea of her walking around alone in the dark. Was she still only wearing a damn bathing suit and his T-shirt? Russell shouldered past the lawyer and left the kitchen. He could hear everyone upstairs, speaking in hushed tones, but he didn’t hear Abby. The front door was slightly ajar, making him think Mitchell had been telling the truth about where she’d gone.

The night was warm, but he only registered the temperature dimly, totally focused on figuring out where Abby had gone. When he caught up with her, he would apologize until his voice was gone. He’d be as honest as possible without completely tipping his hand. If she knew everything hinged on one bank meeting, she’d tell him he was being ridiculous. That was Abby. But she hadn’t seen what the future could look like yet without the benefit of financial security. He had. He remembered every second, and she wouldn’t be subjected to it.

A short staircase to his left led down to the beach. Since there was no sign of Abby on the pathway, he took it, refusing to indulge the foreboding prickling the back of his neck. Calm down.

Waves washed up onto the beach, white surf spreading until it soaked into the sand. Every fifteen feet sat a green-and-white-striped cabana for beachgoers to escape the sun. What ever happened to good old-fashioned umbrellas? He’d only ever been to Rockaway Beach in Queens, but he would appreciate the vast difference between the two locations tomorrow. Right now, he—

Russell stopped short, an alarm blaring in his head. Cold blasted him. His T-shirt had been discarded in the sand, right at the edge of the water. Moving on autopilot, he bent down to retrieve it and noticed the footprints leading right into the ocean.

ABBY SAT ON top of a flat rock, knees pulled to her chest, staring out at the water. The paperwork Mitchell had brought had been fairly straightforward, authorizing the moving of funds, overseas transfers. One new hire contract. And shuffled in between them all, a power-of-attorney document, giving her permission to make decisions on her father’s behalf.

She’d signed something similar when her father was first incapacitated, to cover them if word got out that he wasn’t actively running the company, but it hadn’t been nearly as extensive. Mitchell continued to say her father’s condition was stable, but she didn’t know what to believe. One thing was for certain. She wouldn’t sit around anymore and wait for her father to request her presence. As soon as she got back to New York, she would see his condition for herself.

Another interesting detail had snagged her eye while reviewing the paperwork. She personally owned a 2 percent stake in the company. Something she hadn’t been aware of until tonight and wasn’t even sure she was supposed to know. Why had she never been made aware? The discovery had sparked an idea. An idea that required more thought. One that snowballed the more she entertained it.

Abby’s racing thoughts were interrupted when Russell appeared on the beach. Her initial reaction at the sight of him, as always, was a mixture of warmth and contentment. But it was tempered with disappointment now. Sadness. And unfortunately, some significant sexual awareness that probably would never fade, now that she knew what their bodies could do together.

She watched as he picked up the T-shirt she’d thrown off in what had been an admittedly childish move. Just because she was angry with him and didn’t know where they stood, didn’t mean she should ditch his clothes in random spots. She hated feeling guilty for her parting shot by the pool. Really, she should own the statement she’d made because she’d meant it. Right now, though, she couldn’t help but crave their closeness from before. Before they’d been intimate. When she could lay her head on his shoulder and tell him everything on her mind.

Abby’s insides jolted when Russell shouted her name. Had he seen her? He wasn’t even looking in her direction. When he charged headfirst into the water, her confusion sunk into the yawning pit in her stomach. His voice sounded strangled as he called her name over and over, diving beneath the surface. Looking for her? Yes. He thought she’d gone into the water. As quickly as possible, Abby gained her footing and leapt from the rock onto the sand. Her still-sensitive ankle protested, but she paid it no attention, sprinting toward the water.

“Russell.”

The sound of waves crashing half swallowed her voice, but he would have heard her, had he not just dived below the surface once more. Abby had just reached the shoreline and splashed into the ocean when Russell rose with a strangled curse, water coursing down his back. He spun in a circle, obviously still searching the dark waves, hands moving furiously in the water as if he could peel it back and find her.

“Goddammit!” he shouted. “Angel, please.”

“Russell,” she said again, out of breath. He heard her this time—thank God—his entire body stiffening, before slowly turning to face her. The turmoil on his face made Abby stumble in her awkward attempts to reach him, but she pushed forward and threw herself at him without thinking. His big body was an unmoving block of ice, so she grabbed his shoulders and climbed, wrapping her legs around his waist and holding tight. “I’m sorry. I was on the beach. I’m sorry.”