“We met on the elevator and he was helping me a bit with the charity auction. Plus, you don’t know this, but I was an editor at the publishing house he started out his career at. We didn’t meet then, but it was common ground.”
“You live a dream life.”
I blink at that. I live a dream life. Her perspective gives me some perspective. I’ve been allowing a bad time in my life to define my entire life. I’ve been blessed in so many ways, including my mother not just beating cancer, but her just being my mother. And my stepdad is pretty wonderful, too.
“You’re living it with me,” I tell her. “We’re at Hawk Legal doing great things. This is our life.”
Her lips curve. “You’re right. Too bad Jason Aldean is married. Maybe he’d walk in the door and marry me.”
I laugh. “Your Mr. Right will walk in the door one day. Be picky. Believe me, that’s good advice.”
Bella appears in my doorway, looking like the blonde bombshell that she is in a navy-blue suit dress. “Walk me to the coffee bar, will you?”
Katie rotates and waves to her. “Morning, Bella.”
“Morning, Katie,” she says. “Don’t worry. I won’t keep her long.”
I’m struck by how sweet Bella and Dash are to everyone around them. No one would know how successful they are from how they treat others. Katie heads to her office and Bella and I walk toward the café.
“So,” she says. “Tell me about you and Dash.”
“You know about me and Dash.”
“I know everything is different with Dash since you showed up, Allie. And that’s a good thing.” She squeezes my arm and we step into the café.
“Everything is better with me since Dash too, Bella.”
“I’m so glad.” She places her order and as soon as we sit down, I say, “I moved in with him.”
“I knew you living in Tyler’s place was not going to fly with Dash. Good. That thing with Tyler was weird. Really weird.”
“There was never anything between me and Tyler,” Bella.
“I know,” she says. “But Dash needs to know, too.” Her name is called from the counter. “Be right back.”
She hurries to the counter and I smile. I really do like her. She feels like she could become the sister I never had, which is a crazy thought. I’m not marrying Dash. He’s not the marrying kind and neither am I. Bella rejoins me, coffee in hand, and says, “This Allison thing is worrying me. She’s on my mind. I think we should talk to Tyler.”
“Dash met with him yesterday and I talked with him this morning. He doesn’t know where she is. And Dash is hiring one of his old FBI buddies to find her, just to give us all peace of mind. I think I’m driving him crazy with my obsession over her.”
“I’m glad he did. I really am. That gives me peace of mind, too.” Her phone buzzes with a message. “Speaking of old FBI buddies. One of them just saved Dash’s ass.” She turns the phone in my direction and shows me a photo of Dash leaving the gym with his black eye in focus. The headline reads: Talk about keeping it real. New York Times bestselling author of the Ghost Assassin series, Dash Black, leaves the boxing studio with a black eye after brawling with a former FBI pal.
My gaze jerks to Bella’s. “Does he know about this?”
“He agreed to let me tip off a reporter. For you,” she adds. “You know he didn’t want you getting dragged through the press after the break-in. And we needed to control the narrative. Now he looks like he’s doing research.”
“You’re good, Bella.”
“I’m just taking care of my brother. And you.” She squeezes my hand. “I need to go call him and give a heads up to the studio and publisher. Sorry to run off.”
“Go. Work your magic,” I urge. “We can talk later.”
“Let me know if you hear anything about Allison. Oh, and I do have donations for the auction. I’ll email you my list this afternoon.”
She heads off and I make my way back to my office, eager to get to work. I’ve just hung up with a donor when Katie pokes her head in the door. “There’s a man here to see you. A very good-looking, but cranky, man.”
My brows dip. “Okay. Do you want to bring him back?”
“Can you come and get him? Sorry, but when I say cranky, I mean cranky.”
“Okay,” I say again, very confused right now. Katie has dealt with superstars on their high horses. For her to rattle over this guy says a lot. “I’ll go to the lobby.”
“Thank you,” she says and backs out of the office.
I walk down the hallway and around the front desk, to enter the lobby. The man is facing the elevators, his phone in his hand. A pinch of familiarity is instantly with me, as is a sense of unease. I walk toward him and halt. He ends his call and turns to face me, and I am staring into a familiar face, fixed in a steely gray stare.