Owned by Fate (Serve #1)(55)

Forcing a smile onto her face, Caroline approached the bouncer. He raised an eyebrow at the camera crew chasing her down the street, shrugged, and lifted the velvet rope. She murmured her thanks as she passed, having expected that very response. After all, this was New York. She wasn’t the first, nor would she be the last woman chased into a club by cameras in this town.

All three times she’d come to Serve before today, her initial feelings upon arrival had been ambiguous. Concerned about being seen, confusion over the anticipation in her belly, a touch of intimidation. Now, as the shouts outside were cut off, darkness enfolded her like a soft blanket. This was where Jonah would be. There was simply no name for the feeling the possibility of his presence invoked. Portishead played from a hidden speaker, layered over the hum of conversation, mated with the dim lighting to give her the feeling she’d been transported into a dream. Just that single step inside the door and she already felt closer to him.

Garnering her courage, Caroline sat down at the bar, crossed her legs carefully, and waited. Jonah had seen her once through his video cameras and come downstairs for her. Unless he’d been living under a rock for the last ten hours, he would have heard about her article. He’d know about the decision she’d made regarding the future of Preston’s. Yes, she’d made those decisions because she firmly believed they would benefit her family, but they’d also been messages to Jonah. He just had to receive them.

“Drink?”

Caroline glanced up at the semi-familiar-looking bartender. “Something strong, please.”

“Got it.” He poured three different liquids into a cocktail shaker and shook it before pouring the red drink into a martini glass.

When he pushed it toward her on a square napkin, Caroline gave him a questioning look. “What happened to the lollipops?”

The bartender shrugged. “Boss didn’t want to use them anymore.”

“Oh,” she responded, trying to ignore the rising tide of grief. “Is, um, Mr. Briggs…here?”

He regarded her curiously. “As far as I know, he’s upstairs as usual. Did you want me to tell him you’re here?”

Was she projecting or did she see a hint of sympathy on his face? He must know what she’d already guessed. If he were upstairs monitoring the club, he would have seen her arrive. If he wanted to see her, he’d be downstairs by now.

“No, no.” She waved away the offer. “I-it’s fine. Don’t bother him.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but another customer demanded his attention. Caroline stared into her drink for an interminable length of time, the music getting louder around her, people packing close at the bar, until it became devastatingly obvious that Jonah wouldn’t come. She’d failed. Her final option would be taking the elevator to the upper floors, but she didn’t know where he’d be and wouldn’t embarrass herself by searching.

Rousing herself with an iron will, Caroline drained the contents of her drink and stood. She excused herself several times walking through a crowd of people, noting absentmindedly that most of them were discussing Kimble and his now-infamous Ponzi scheme. A few whispers told her she hadn’t gone unrecognized, but it barely registered. Breathing through her nose, she focused on holding it together long enough to exit with some semblance of dignity.

The bouncer nodded at her gently as she passed, telling her she hadn’t quite managed to hide the overwhelming sense of loss threatening to drown her. When the cameras lit up immediately on her exit and voices started begging for a verbal reaction, she picked up her pace, heels clicking on the cold pavement. If she opened her mouth now, she had no idea what would come out. Sobs…epithets…screams? All three?

She pulled her trench coat tighter, realizing fuzzily that she’d never even taken it off at the bar. Had she known subconsciously he wouldn’t come?

“Caroline.”

Her footsteps came to an abrupt halt, Jonah’s voice resonating through her very soul. Slowly, she turned to face him. Looking tired and disheveled, yet heartbreakingly handsome at the same time, he stood ten feet from her, a magazine clutched in his fist. Her gaze ran over him, head to toe, soaking in his image like a woman dying of thirst. He did the same to her, his attention only drawn away when the filming news cameras circled them.

When he spoke, his voice shook with quiet intensity. “Where have you been?”

“Here.” She swiped at the moisture on her cheek. “What about you?”

Jonah raised a hand and began to tick off fingers. “Your apartment. Your office. Our steak house. Our jazz club. Anywhere I can think of that reminds me of you.” His hand dropped down against his thigh. “Turns out, everywhere reminds me of you, Caroline. Everywhere.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, joy winging through her chest. The cameramen had gone silent, as had the crowd spilling out from the club. It was so unnaturally quiet, Caroline worried it was all an elaborate dream. He’d gone looking for her, wanting to see her. Dammit, that was a start.

Jonah held up the wrinkled magazine in his fist. “You tell me you’re in love with me, you print it on the front page of your family’s magazine, then you turn your phone off and disappear?”

Caroline’s hand shot to her jacket pocket where the phone sat silently. “Oh God, I forgot.” She encompassed the cameramen with a glance. “It’s been a long day.”