More curious than afraid now that she was in her car, she wanted to know what he'd been doing in the building. Why had he waited until she left tonight to assault her? Why would he go to such extremes to talk to her?
The light turned green. She turned, going two blocks to Davenport Hotel. Having never set foot in the grand old hotel, she was aware they had valet parking for those who wanted to visit downtown Spokane and use their high-rise parking structure. There were also people present twenty-four/seven. She could have someone escort her out of the building or call the police for her if...if Serge Adams tried to harm her.
An idea struck. She had his name. She had a phone. Google was better than some random call to a secretary she couldn't verify.
She sat in the car and read the first few results of her search.
All common sense left her. His story was a rags-to-riches dream come true. An underdog rising to the top. A deserving but painful existence. He'd grown up homeless from the age of six years old and as an adult, learned how to invest money. He got lucky and turned a thousand dollars into a million, eventually making himself a multi-millionaire.
Caught up in the information, she startled when the attendant knocked on her window.
She got out of the car. Flushed over the information, the cool night air cooled her cheeks. Serge Adams wasn't just anyone. He was someone important.
"Can I help you?" asked the attendant.
She lowered her phone, knowing she was underdressed to even think about going inside. "I-I'm—"
"Are you here to meet Mr. Adams?" He raised his brows. "He's waiting for you in the lounge. I can park your car while you're inside. Mr. Adams has already paid your way."
She looked down at her jeans and sweater. This wasn't happening. She lacked sleep. Mr. Adams had to be a figment of her imagination.
"Yes, I'm here to meet him," she whispered before she could change her mind.
"Jeremy will escort you to the lounge." He pivoted and went to the driver's side of her car.
"This way, Ms." Jeremy held his hands behind his back and walked at a steady pace.
Hurrying to keep up with him as if he would protect her from whatever awaited her in the lounge, she focused on her breathing. She tried to make sense of Serge Adams being the same man who'd frightened ten years off her life.
Inside the lounge, she stood beside a half-circle booth in front of her almost kidnapper. Like her, he remained in the same clothes. Whether it was the mystery surrounding him or the confidence he shed like a second skin, he looked at home in his hoodie.
And, sexy. That was something she refused to admit to herself.
"Sit." His gravelly voice struggled to compete with the pianist in the far corner of the room.
She slid into the booth, sitting on the other side to keep her distance from him, and clutched her hands under the table.
His gaze dropped to the front of her chest before reaching her eyes again. "Do you always follow the rules?"
Was it a trick question? She pursed her lips and studied him. "Yes."
He shot her a well-intentioned look that made her ovaries dance. She inhaled quickly. It wasn't just that he was a millionaire mogul who'd fought his way to the top that kept her sitting with him.
At another time and under different circumstances, she would admire him for his confidence and success in life. Those were traits she both struggled with and respected in others.
"If I decide to leave, you won't stop me?" She set her cell phone in her lap.
"I won't stop you," he murmured.
"One more thing." She waited until he glanced at her again. "Don't follow me when I leave."
There. She tilted her head, pleased with herself for coming across as a professional, mature, unstoppable woman.
"Can't promise not to, Bree." He spoke softly, sliding a drink toward her.
The way he'd shortened her name wasn't lost on her. "W-what do you mean?"
"It's my wish to take you home after we talk."
