Page 118 of The Stranger
“Yeah.”
“Makes two of us. And why is she turning a corner?” I ask, confused. “You are supposed to pick her up and drop her off out front.”
“Oh … yeah … umm, about that?—”
“Spit it out, Damien.”
“She’s been getting me to drop her off and pick her up from around the corner.”
“Since when?”
“Monday.”
“Why?” I bark down the line.
“I don’t know, sir, she didn’t say.”
“And why am I only hearing about this now?”
“I—”
“Never mind,” I grumble, ending the call.
I’ll sort this out when I get home. Right now, I need to calm the fuck down. I stab the button when I reach the elevator, and although I can feel a thousand eyes burning into the back of my head, I don’t bother turning around. In the mood I’m currently experiencing, I’m liable to sack everyone on the spot.
By the time I reach my floor, I’m no calmer. Slamming my office door closed, I stalk towards the bar in the corner and pour myself a bourbon. Once I down the amber liquid in one go, I pour a second glass and bring it over to my desk, placing it down on top.
Opening the top drawer, I pull out a cigar, cut off the end, and after flipping the lid on my lighter, I let the tip hover above the flame until a glowing ring appears around the edge. Only then do I bring it to my lips.
Taking a slow draw, I swirl the smoke in my mouth to savour the flavours before exhaling. I do this a few times before taking a seat and reaching for my glass. I need to get home, but first and foremost, I have to get my anger under control. The last thing I want is to start a fight with Delilah and make this situation worse.
So many questions swim around in my head as I lean back into my chair and take another draw.
Did I overreact down there?
Probably.
Is Delilah upset with me?
More than likely.
Why was he here?
I have my suspicions.
Is he trying to win her back?
Fuck, I hope not.
The last one has me picking up my drink and gulping it down.
I’m not sure what I’m going to find when I ride the elevator up to my apartment an hour later. Delilah should be here because when Damien came back to get me, he said he’d dropped her straight home earlier.
Well, I’m hoping she is.
When I enter, I find the lights on, but both the kitchen and the main room are empty. I’m used to seeing her in her element, cooking up a storm, so it’s disappointing to find that’s not the case tonight.
With my briefcase still in hand, I head for her bedroom first. The door is slightly ajar, but the room is in darkness. I use my knuckle to tap against the wood, but when I get no reply, a nervous feeling settles in the pit of my stomach.
