Present
Walking through the backdoor and Mikhail following, I downed the rest of the bottle of water and tossed it into the trash before dumping some food into his dish and letting him chow down before I headed down the hallway and through the foyer.
I brought my T-shirt to my nose as I climbed the stairs and sniffed. Cigarettes and sawdust. It was probably on my skin, too.
Eh, she’d deal with it.
I pulled the shirt off over my head and walked into the bedroom, tossing it on the floor. “I’m dirty and sweaty,” I said, kicking off my shoes, “but you’re just gonna have to roll with it.”
Leaving the light off, I put a knee down on the end of the bed and crawled up, dying to pin her hands above her head and kiss her until she was begging to get fucked.
But as I reached her side of the bed, it was empty.
“Winter?” I called.
I felt the bed, not finding her, so I reached over and turned on the lamp.
She wasn’t here. The sheets were rumpled and still warm, though.
“Winter?” I barked louder.
Dammit, girl…
I climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom and dressing room, finding them both empty. Leaving the room, I headed down to her bedroom and swung the door open, but she wasn’t there, either. My heart pumped harder, and I bit the corner of my mouth to keep my nerves in fucking check.
Maybe she was in the ballroom.
I walked to the railing, about to head down the stairs but saw Crane move across the foyer.
“Where is she?” I demanded.
He stopped and looked up, meeting my eyes.
But then dropped them again.
“Fuck you, where is she?” I snapped.
“A car picked her up,” he told me, looking like he really didn’t want to. “She said she’ll be at St. Killian’s and back in a couple days.”
“And you let her leave?”
He closed his mouth, averting my eyes. Why the fuck did I hire extra security if he was just going to let her come and go like that?
“It wasn’t my impression she was a prisoner, sir,” he said.
“Was it your impression that I might eat ice cream out of your skull for not telling me she was going?”
He tightened his lips.
“Was she upset?” I asked. Do you know that at least?
“She seemed troubled, yes,” he answered. “Said she just wanted to have some space to think.”
Think.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. When women think, shit didn’t go the way I wanted it to.
What the hell was she doing? I did what Rika told me to do. Almost. I got to work on something. I brought in a crew, we tore down that fugly fountain and built the one I had designed and planned, working day and night for two days, so she’d find it and explore it and hopefully love it.