“Oh! There’s a package for you on your desk,” Angie added.
“Got it!” Riley said as she entered her office.
She parked her small travel suitcase in the corner and flopped into her chair. “Home sweet home away from home,” she muttered, kicking off her shoes beneath her desk.
She might have work to do, but she wanted to see Ian first. Still, the package in brown wrapping called to her. She wondered if he’d bought her something while she was away. She immediately touched the pendant he’d given her. She only removed it to shower then put it back on to sleep.
She wasn’t stupid, knew it was ridiculously expensive, but its worth wasn’t in its dollar value. For Riley, the necklace was Ian’s statement, proof of how well he knew her taste and what she meant to him. She didn’t want or need anything else from him, she thought, as she ripped into the package.
Inside was a box and inside that, a picture frame. Had the silly man framed the picture of them from the newspaper? That was something she’d cherish, their first photograph together.
She turned over the rectangular frame, took one look at the picture, and screamed, dropping it onto her desk. “Oh my God!”
“Riley, are you okay?” Angie popped around the doorframe.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
The other woman narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Angie left, and Riley turned over the offending picture. Riley’s beautiful mother, her face bruised and battered, stared back at her. Obviously an old photo, it was faded and had been crumpled and straightened again to be sent here.
Ian. She had to show Ian. Not because she’d promised him, but because he was the only person she wanted now.
She held the frame against her chest, not wanting anyone else to see, and ran for his office.
His secretary smiled when she saw Riley.
“Is he in?” she asked.
The older woman nodded. “But he’s on a call.”
Riley didn’t care. She passed by the woman’s desk and let herself into his office.
He looked up when she burst in, his serious expression transforming into a smile. “I have to go,” he said to whomever was on the phone, disconnecting the call.
Ian rose and started toward her, stopping when he caught sight of her pale face and wide, panicked eyes. “What’
s wrong?”
She shook her head, and he realized she was clutching something close to her heart. He wrapped his hands around hers. “Can I see?”
She released her grip. “It’s my mother,” she said in a pain-wracked voice.
He looked down at the gruesome reminder of her past pain, and a combination of nausea and rage filled him. “Where did you get this?”
“The package was delivered here,” she said, her voice dull.
Ian narrowed his gaze, trying to decide what concerned him more. The delivered photograph or Riley’s reaction. “Come sit.”
He led her to his leather couch and eased her down, setting the picture facedown on the table in front of them. “Riley?”
“I’m going to kill him,” she said, color returning to her cheeks.
Not if Ian got to the son of a bitch first.
“We need to call the police. They need to document what’s been happening, okay?”