Page 135 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

Several museumgoers passed me on their way toward the large metal structure. I nodded to them, giving my blood a few more minutes to cool before returning to Rosabel.

The last thing she needed was to know my mom thought it was okay for me to return to the party without her. It was bad enough that she’d overheard the last phone conversation I’d had with my mother.

Breathing fractionally slower, I turned and skimmed the lobby for a sign of her. She’d been by the exit the last time I’d looked.

So far, no one was there except for a young couple. I peered toward the reception desk. Aside from the few people purchasing tickets, a beautiful woman with dark brown hair and a stunning black dress was nowhere in sight.

Worry pounded against my chest. I marched through the lobby, looking everywhere I could think of. I stopped by the bathrooms, waiting to see if she might step out any minute.

At least ten minutes passed, at which point I asked a few women to step inside and check them for a sign of her for me.

Nothing.

I’d barge in there myself if that was what it took to find her. Where was she?

Panic kicked in. I had runner’s lungs. Energy hummed in my bones and made a blender of my insides. My phone buzzed.

Clive:Just right outside, sir.

A portion of relief made itself known, but like a drop of oil on an ungreased machine head, it made little difference.

Me:Is Rosabel with you?

Heart. Pounding.

She had to be with Clive. I couldn’t imagine why she’d go out to the car without me, but maybe she had.

Clive:No, sir. I haven’t seen her.

I swore loudly enough that several women peered in my direction, but I didn’t care. In fact, I rounded on them to ask if they’d seen a woman with brown hair and wearing a slimming black dress.

They hadn’t. They were sorry.

“No,” I said. “No.”

Details slid into place like falling blocks, crashing hard and knocking the next one down in its place.

Eudora.

The pressure I’d felt—the need to defend my feelings for Rosabel to my family.

I’d made them public. Was that why she was gone? Had Ulrich taken her?

I called Clive and told him she was gone. He stormed into the museum. We alerted security, and together, we searched Crystal Bridges. I even went back to that infernal party, but she wasn’t there. Neither was Eudora.

Fear had taken over my brain, whiting out every other thought but this consuming desperation, this all-encompassing need to find her. Had Ulrich taken her? Had he hurt her?

Clive talked me into making for the lake house, but I didn’t leave right away, not until the police assured me that they’d do all they could to find her. Not until I saw the security feedshowing a man with his face covered by a hoodie and a medical mask lure her outside. He took her. He hauled her like she was livestock.

The image was branded into my brain, and it plagued me every few seconds, making me that much more enraged every time.

Security couldn’t make out the license plate number, nor could they interpret any distinguishing facial features on either man. She’d shouted. She’d fought. But they took her away.

That image would haunt me the rest of my life.

Clive was right, though. We couldn’t do anything else here. So I let him drive me back to the lake house. I called Noah in the meantime. No leads, so I gave him a new assignment:

Ditch Wolf Industries. Rosabel was the priority.

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