When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

“I did,” he surprises me by saying. “This morning when I stopped by your apartment,” he adds. “I just thought you might offer a clearer picture of his mindset.”

I blink in shock. “You went to see him today? Really? How did that go?”

“He invited me to the meeting with the studio. I know one of the main players quite well.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yes, Allie. I do believe it is.”

I hesitate, but I have to change the subject. I have asked the question he probably dreads from me. “Anything from Allison?”

His expression tightens. “Nothing. And I tried.” He shuts down the topic, sideswipes me with a rapid topic change, or rather, command. “Send me an update on the auction.”

“Already in your inbox.”

He nods and disappears into the hallway. I stand up and shut my door before returning to my desk and dialing Dash. “Hey, baby,” he answers.

“Hey. Anything I might want to know?”

“Tyler works fast,” he says with a laugh. “He already told you.”

“I might have encouraged him to make peace with you. You two were friends, Dash. And I really don’t think—”

“We made peace, baby, the best we’re going to without some time.”

“You invited him to the meeting?”

“Yes. I think he’s an asset and so does Bella. And for the record, I still think he’d fuck you if he got the chance, but the only way he gets that chance is if you let him and I know you won’t. Now, I am about three chapters from done and haven’t showered.”

“Go finish. Dash, I love you.”

“Show me tonight when we pop champagne and celebrate one of these deals.” He softens his voice. “And I love you, too, baby.”

We disconnect and I’m feeling hopeful about everything and everyone but Allison. I don’t know what to do to help. Maybe there’s nothing I can do, but isn’t that what Dash said about him and his father? And that ended badly. I have to do something. I stand up and look around the office. This was her office. I found that plane ticket and never even brought that up to Neil. I quickly dig for it, shoot a photo, and text it to Neil. He replies with a phone call.

“Good work,” he says when I answer. “I’ll find out who else was on that flight. Have you searched the office well?”

“I—no, actually.”

“Search when you get time. Or I can if you want to get me in after hours.”

“I’ll do a search right now. I’ll let you know.”

I start digging around, in files, on the bookshelf, and then finally in the credenza that I skimmed and saw nothing helpful. This time though, I find one hanging folder that is way in the back and blank. I grab it, and to my shock, find another journal. My heart leaps into my throat. I roll to the desk and open to page one:

This is nothing I thought I’d ever have to write, but I can’t talk to anyone about this. When I met him, I was heartbroken, in love with a man who had rejected me. Why I allowed myself to be seduced even slightly by this particular man, I do not know. It was wrong in every way and I knew it. He was married. I was never going to let it go too far. Ever. And I didn’t. I didn’t. I couldn’t. But I did allow a flirtation, I know. I just—I needed to feel something other than pain. It felt good to have his interest. So when he asked me to drinks, I said yes. I know. I’m a horrible person. God, why did I go? Why? It hurts me to know I could hurt someone else, and as I said, he’s married. Then things spiraled. They went badly. So very badly. I don’t even know where to start. I can’t seem to write it down. And I don’t know how I keep going on.

My heart leaps. I’m terrified for Allison with what reads like someone suicidal.

I shoot a copy of the text and send it to Neil with a message: Another journal. I’ll copy it for you and scan it to email.

That doesn’t sound good, he replies. Send it. I’m waiting on a contact to get me the flight info.

An idea hits me and I type: Should I send a company email and ask if anyone knows how to reach her?

Not until I have the flight information and read that journal, he replies.

I’m worried, I text.

As am I, he confirms.

There’s a knock on my door and I shut the journal and pull it to my lap. “Yes? Come in.”

The door opens and to my shock, Jack is my visitor. “I have a very big client who just got into town. He wants to talk to you about a high-end family heirloom he wants to auction off. Can you join us for drinks?”