Page 81 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
Nothing worked before because it wasn’t withher.
Nothing willeverwork if it’s not with her.
I haven’t been able to tell her that, haven’t even been able to so much as see her through the cameras at work because she tookthe whole week off. It’s eating away at me: impatience, need, and a gnawing loneliness.
I’ve forced myself to be content with the fact that she’s at least been reading all my texts, even if we haven’t spoken since Monday.
Worry didn’t start to seep into my veins until shestoppedreading them.
It’s only been a few hours, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right. I didn’t expect Sloane to go as far as she did, and considering that the police have had no luck figuring out who her accomplices were, there’s a real chance that she’d send someone after Riley even from jail.
I’d rather prove myself wrong than fail to check.
The bulbs that light the stairwells in Riley’s little walk-up flicker like they’re threatening to go out at any moment, and I grit my teeth at the thought of her living here. I don’t have long to snarl at the thought before my eyes land on her door.
The book-shaped welcome mat is knocked halfway out of place, light spilling out across the landing.
The door’s open.
A spike of worry, ice cold and unfamiliar, lances through my chest, and I rush forward, covering the last few feet in seconds.
“Riley?” My voice is louder than it needs to be, echoing through the small apartment. “Riley!”
There’s no answer. No sign of Riley in the living room or attached kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom, devoid of any life.
The place is empty.
The only sign she was even here recently is the almost empty bottle of wine sitting next to a quarter-full glass on her rickety wooden coffee table.
I fumble for my phone, my heart racing in my chest, and call her again, praying that she’ll answer this time. There has to be an explanation. Maybe she went down to get her mail or is helping a neighbor with something.
My blood freezes in my veins when I catch sight of her phone on the couch.
I grab it, tapping at the screen only to see my missed calls from the last hour piling up with the one I just ended. My gut twists with something I haven’t felt for a long time, at least not like this.
Fear.
My hands shake as I pull up Bruno’s contact and call him, vision narrowed down to Riley’s phone like it’ll spring to life and tell me where she is.
He’s going to be pissed at me for asking for his help, but I couldn’t care less. If I have to leave D’Amico Global to Marcus and get my hands dirty again, I’ll do it, as long as she’s safe.
Fuck the consequences, I’ll deal with that later. All that matters right now is finding Riley, and my brother can find anyone or anything, no matter where they’re hiding or who’s hiding them. He was always the bogeyman our enemies feared when they were trying to stay under the radar, his connections and attention to detail making any attempt at concealing his target useless. Even if he doesn’t want Riley around, I trust that he’ll help when his family needs it. He’s my best shot at getting her back.
He might be my only shot.
The call goes to voicemail after what feels like an eternity, and I curse under my breath as I hang up just to call him again.
“Come on, Bruno, pickup,” I urge, my eyes darting around Riley’s living room as panic starts to creep up my spine.
It feels like another ten years before the dial tone finally cuts off and is replaced by Bruno’s voice.
“Can’t talk right now, kid, call?—”
“I need your help,” I say, cutting him off before he can finish his sentence. “It’s an emergency.”
Bruno scoffs, and anger rises in my chest, pushing the panic further up my throat.
“I don’t help people who abandon my family. You can deal with your problems on your own, and your girl can deal with hers,” he says, sounding all too smug even though he’s breathing heavily, and alarm bells start to ring in the back of my mind. “I’m busy right now. You can beg me for?—”
