Page 37 of Downfall

She and Kolson both laugh, and Mary moves back to the kitchen to make me a plate. “Do you like bacon, Abby, or do you prefer sausage? Something else? I can start stocking the fridge with whatever you like.”

“Oh, um, anything is fine with me,” I tell her, sitting on the barstool next to Kolson. “You don’t need to go through so much trouble. I’ll just have whatever Kolson is already made whenever I’m here.”

She exchanges a sly glance with Kolson that I barely catch, then Kolson says, “Just let her buy what you like. She’ll snoop around until she figures it out, anyway.”

Mary sets a mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of me. “He’s right. But we can discuss it later. I’ll leave you two to enjoy your breakfast.”

As she walks away, I turn toward Kolson. “You talked about me?”

“All the damn time,” he says, matter-of-factly.

I’m still a bit confused about why he didn’t come back to me sooner. Why we couldn’t be together since his career and financial status were up to the standard he had set for himself. So it’s equally confusing why he would sing my praises to his housekeeper while he didn’t even know what I was up to. I could have moved to Argentina and become a farmer for all he knew. Did he tell her about the weekend we spent together over and over? Riveting.

Standing from his barstool after we’re done eating, Kolson collects our plates and sets them in the sink for Mary to take care of, I assume.

“Go get dressed, siren. I have to go into the office this morning, and I want to show you around.”

“I don’t have any clothes here. Or did you forget that you kidnapped me?” I tease. “Want to drop by my house?”

“Check the closet and drawers in the bathroom. Come get me in my home office when you’re ready,” he says, kissing me on the forehead and swatting my ass before walking toward his open office door.

Turning on my heel, I practically sprint back to the bedroom, rushing into the huge walk-in closet. My eyes go wide when I discover that half of his closet is women’s clothing, all with tags and in my size. Opening drawers, I find matching sets of expensive lingerie, and on shelves along the back wall, more shoes than one person could ever need.

I choose a form-fitting cream dress that stops at mid-thigh and has long sleeves. It may be summer, but it won’t be over seventy-five, and I’ll be inside all day, anyway, probably. Taking the dress and a pair of Doc Martens into the bathroom with me, I get in the shower, noticing that all of my normal shower products are on the small shelf.

It’s still early, and Kolson didn’t give me a time limit on getting ready, but I take care to not waste time. Looking through the bathroom, I’m shocked again that one end of the long vanity is set up with everything I could ever need.

I find a blow dryer and curling iron, making quick work of giving my hair a natural looking beachy wave. Then I use the array of skincare products and makeup lined up meticulously in the drawers. The selection is better than I have at home, and of course, all the colors match my skin perfectly. Eventually, I’ll have to ask Kolson how the hell he did all of this without seeing me in so long.

Getting dressed, I admire my new dress in the full-length mirror in the bedroom, then I head toward Kolson’s home office, hoping he likes it as much as I do.

Chapter 32

Abby

Tomysurprise,andKolson’s apparent amusement, Abbra Analytics is housed in the top two floors of my apartment building. The building has no signs on the outside, appearing to anyone driving by like an apartment building only. But next to the elevators used for the offices on the top floors, clear as day, is a bold sign with the company logo.

Never using those elevators, I hadn’t even thought to look what businesses were upstairs, and I wouldn’t have known Abbra Analytics was his, anyway.

“I really could have just gotten ready at home,” I say, walking into the elevator, my hand in his. “Did you know I live here?”

“I did, but only because I own the building.”

Abruptly releasing his hand, I turn toward him. “I—what? Wait. When I moved in, Hannah was weird about the flyer I received. Something about a special discount. Did you do that? Manipulate me into moving into a building you own so you could watch me or something?”

“The flyer was me, and, of course, I was hoping you’d come and fall in love with the apartment. I needed to be close to you, siren, even indirectly. To know you were safe and comfortable when I couldn’t be there for you like you deserved.” Stepping toward me, he takes my hands in his with a sincere look plastered on his handsome face.

The elevator opens then to a modern reception area, a large desk in the center. Kolson leans forward to kiss my cheek before stepping out, his hand in mine again. I let him lead me to the desk, introducing me to the young man surrounded by phones and computer monitors.

“Abby, this is Blake,” he tells me. “Blake, can you add clearance to the office elevators to Abby Cleary’s keycard? She lives downstairs.”

“Absolutely, sir,” Blake says with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Abby.”

“You, too.”

Leaving Blake to it, we walk to the back corner of the floor, passing conference rooms and cubicles full of employees already grinding away. A few eyes linger on us as we pass, but Kolson doesn’t stop again until we reach his office.

With a desk along one wall of windows and a sitting area with two couches and a coffee table along the other, the space is… sparse.

---