Page 136 of Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

On the way home, I called Maddox. I didn’t care if Clive heard me. I didn’t care about anything but finding her. So I spilled it all. I told him everything.

My confession of love. My fierce desire to defend her against my family’s awful accusations. I’d wanted to vouch for her, to stand by her, and in the process, I’d fed her to the wolves.

Literally.

And he’d taken her.

Clive peered at me through the rearview mirror. We pulled up to the house, and I didn’t wait. I stormed inside, needing the movement because it felt like I was accomplishing something when I felt like everything was falling apart around me.

Pat greeted me but her face fell when she saw whatever expression was on my face. I nodded toward her and then charged up the stairs to Rosabel’s room.

Her bed was made. Her suitcase lay open atop it. She’d had everything packed and ready to go, just like we’d planned.

I should have taken her. We should have ditched the party and left.

The slim black flute case I’d bought for her was nestled in her clothes in the open suitcase. I’d never forget the moment I heard her play. I’d climbed the stairs like a ghost, like a sheep coming to a shepherd’s call. I’d been entranced by the sound, by the sight of her graceful body moving as if it were part of the music wafting from the instrument as she played.

She was gone. And it was my fault.

I didn’t realize I’d said the words aloud until Maddox’s reply came through the phone.

“Your public confession wasn’t the reason,” he said. “Not according to those threats. Whoever did this already knew you loved her.”

Rosabel had said the same thing. It’d been one reason I’d decided to stop hiding my feelings just before I’d defended her to my family.

“Then why now? Why take her now, why not wait? I did this to her, Hatter. I put her in danger.”

I kicked the small garbage can behind her door hard enough it flew across to hit the opposite wall.

“Take it easy,” Maddox said. “Don’t do anything rash. I’m leaving here in a few minutes, all right? I’ve talked to Adelie—she’s coming, too. We’ll be there for you. We’ll find her.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

Emotion choked the possibility of words making their way up my throat. I ended the call, and my eyes filled with tears.

I did this. I’d turned my back on her for only moments. Moments!

I was helpless. Powerless. And it was the worst feeling I’d ever experienced.

My vision blurred as the tears fell, and a hand touched my shoulder. Through blurry eyes, I saw Nicole and Pat standing in front of me with their arms around each others’ shoulders.

“Clive told us,” Pat said.

“She was a good one, sir,” Nicole added.

“I’m going to find her,” I said.

“Of course, you will. If anyone can, it’s you.” After a brief pause, she said, “You know, our uncle works for the CIA.”

My eyes flashed to her. “Give me his number. Please,” I added, remembering Rosabel. She wouldn’t want me to bark orders even now.

“I’ll ask him if I can,” she said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

“Never mind,” I said, rethinking things. The CIA was a good start. The bros and I hadn’t gone that route yet. But I didn’t need her to jeopardize her relationship with her uncle. “It’s okay. I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position.”

These women had taken care of me for years, ever since I’d left Chicago. Why would I expect now to be different? They were still caring for me. Looking out for me like I was their son instead of their boss.

Renewed energy surged through me. Even if Nicole and Pat didn’t give me an “in,” I’d buy one. If the CIA wouldn’t speak with me, I’d offer to fund whatever their biggest project was. I’d contact politicians, news outlets, and every media outlet I could think of. I’d give them whatever dollar number I’d have to—even if it bled me dry.

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