I can feel Juan’s eyes burning holes into me as I reach for my stuff. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand and get back to work?”
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “Are you deaf? The nurse just told you to take it easy.”
I wave a hand. “I can relax when I’m dead. Besides, I have a shit ton of work I need to do at the office.”
He looks up to the ceiling and huffs. “What you need is rest.”
I hop off the bed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to sleep after a concussion.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s just some old wives’ tale,” he counters.
That may be true, but I really don’t feel like going back to my empty hotel room.
Because when I’m alone…all I think about is him.
I hike my purse up my shoulder and head out. “I’m going back to work, Juan. End of story.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re crazy?” he grumbles behind me.
Yeah…the person I’m trying my hardest not to think about.
Chapter 9
Preston
I grind my molars as I get out of the van and head toward the elevators.
Evidently, the hospital decided to discharge her. Only, she didn’t go back to her hotel like she was supposed to because I had the guy at the front desk call her room a few dozen times while I knocked on her door so hard I nearly broke the damn thing down.
I’d try her cell again, but every time I do it goes straight to voice mail.
Which is why I’m currently walking into the building Kit works in.
I’m out of fucking options, and if I don’t talk to her soon and see with my own eyes that she’s okay, I’ll scorch the earth and burn it to the goddamn ground.
Since I have no idea where I’m going, I have to stop and ask a security guard for directions.
The fact he just spouts them off without even so much as asking who I am only further proves how unsafe this shithole is.
After pressing the button for the third floor and stepping out, I amble over to the woman sitting at the front desk who’s filing her nails.
“I’m looking for my wife.”
“Sure thing, handsome. What’s her name?”
“Kit Bishop.”
The woman stops filing and arches an eyebrow. “Kit Bishop is your wife?”
“Did I stutter?”
I’m debating shoving that nail file up her ass when she points to a hallway. “Her office is the second door on the left.”
I waste no time barging in.
Only to find she isn’t here either.
“The studio you’re looking for is two doors down,” some guy sitting at a desk on the other side of the room says.
“The woman at the front desk told me this was it.”
“Yeah, well, the woman at the front desk is an idi—” He stops typing on his keyboard and looks up. “Well, hello there, gorgeous.” He gets up from his chair and prances over to me. “I’m Juan.”
That makes sense. Kit’s talked about him a few times and he definitely fits the description.
Giving me a wink, he leans in a little too close. “Do you start shooting today or tomorrow, sexy?”
I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.
“The only thing I’m going to be shooting is you if you don’t tell me where Kit is.”
That wipes the flirty smile off his face. “Kit?” His nose screws up and he takes on a defensive stance. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Her husband.”
His jaw nearly hits the floor. “You’re her husband?”
It’s all I can do not to ram my fist through the wall. “For fuck’s sake, is everyone deaf around here? Yes, I’m her husband. And you have about two seconds to tell me where the hell she is before I lose my shit.”
To his credit, he doesn’t back down.
“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me your whereabouts this afternoon.” He zigs a finger through the air. “Kit said you were staying at her parents’ house. In Connecticut.”
“That’s right. But then I called her phone this morning and an EMT picked up and told me they were taking her to the hospital.”
He purses his lips. “Mmhh. You really expect me to believe that?”
Is he for real right now?
“I don’t care what the fuck you believe, shithead. Where is Kit?”
Swiping the air with his finger again, he shakes his head. “Sorry, tough guy. I’m not telling you.” He walks back over to his desk. “But I am telling security to remove you from the building.”
I didn’t want to have to do this, but he’s given me no choice.
It takes me all of two seconds to grab him by the collar and shove him against the wall.
He lets out a high-pitched shriek that could rival one of Ariana Grande’s high notes. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I won’t. As long as you tell me where my wife is.”
“She’s in the coffee room at the end of the hall.”
“I’m sorry, Kit,” he cries out after I release him.
My blood pressure rises with every step I take. I assume she’s okay since she’s here, but I don’t know that for a fact. And while Kit and I couldn’t be more different from one another, the one thing we have in common is our stubbornness.
The last place she should be right now is at work.
She should be resting. She should be…
My chest recoils when I find her.
Pressed up against the wall, kissing some half-naked blonde.
Chapter 10
Kit
I’m pouring myself a cup of coffee when I hear footsteps behind me.
“Holy cow, are you okay?” Amber questions.
Crap. Evidently news of my assault has spread throughout the office like wildfire.
I take a lengthy sip of my coffee because I didn’t get a chance to have much caffeine today and I desperately need some.
“I’m fine. It’s just a concussion.”
Her features pinch in concern and she moves a little closer. “I can’t believe someone attacked you.”
“Yeah, it sucked.” I shrug. “But I’m okay.”
“Does that mean you’re still coming tonight?”
Oh, boy. As much as I want to, it’s probably not a good idea. Fortunately, getting attacked in the parking garage gives me the perfect excuse to skip out.
“I’m not sure. I’ll see how I feel later and let you know.”
I start to brush past her, but she catches me by the elbow. “Can we talk for a second?”
I place my coffee on the table next to me. “Sure.”
I’m grateful she at least has a bra on this time. Not that it does much to hide her awesome figure.
She blows out a shaky breath. “At the risk of coming off clingy, I like you, Kit.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to avoid saying something I’ll regret—like how can she be so sure she likes me when she doesn’t even know me?
Then again, that’s the purpose of asking someone on a date, isn’t it? To get to know them.