I don’t have the time to argue with him now, or to play games.
“If I promise to prove you wrong about my parents, promise me you won’t sell the club to anyone else in the interim,” I say. “You’re a patient man. Give me the benefit of the same.”
This deal is everything. I will him to agree.
“You have three months,” he says, sighing.
I stride out of his house and out to the waiting limo.
The ride back feels interminable. I glance at my phone, seeing the barrage of missed calls as a result of turning alerts off for the morning to deal with more important things than business.
They don’t matter.
I picture Rae’s face when I tell her about Christian’s offer to meet. This could be the single most important show of her career. It won’t make up for last night, but it’s a start.
The second we pull up to my villa, Natalia is out front, wringing her hands.
“Señor King.” She crosses to the car, her expression a mask of distress.
“What is it?” I think the worst. Rae. She’s hurt, or sick, or…
I shove past her and stomp inside, looking all around.
Nothing is out of the ordinary.
There’s not a single item of Rae’s clothing on a table or chair.
My chest twinges. A warning.
I take the stairs two at a time to my room. The bed is empty, the sheets rumpled.
I pace down the hall to the room at the other end, bypassing every other door as if they don’t exist.
Hers is ajar, and that small crack of light fills me with trepidation.
I open the door, and my heart stops. There’re no messes, no clothes. No computer. No bottle of pills.
The closet is empty, save the dress and shoes I bought her to attend Christian’s party.
Impossible.
The woman I slept with last night. The one I sacrificed for, the one I denied the man who owns the club I want more than anything else in the world for…
She’s fucking gone.
* * *
