Chapter
THIRTY-NINE
KYLE
Ruby didn’t respond to my text, or the follow-up one I sent which was simply a question mark.
It bothered me, not just that she went silent, either. A bad feeling seeped in, took over, and it was suffocating. The feeling only intensified when I called her and it went straight to voicemail.
Keith Gillespie’s face was a deep shade of red as he told me about his wife’s latest antics. She’d graduated from the spoons and lamps to claiming primary ownership of the furniture. She wanted the water bed in the guest room.
A water bed.
I choked back the urge to ask if I should list the bean bag and lava lamp, too. Surely, they had those. Wasn’t that included in the set when you bought a water bed?
Jesus, why couldn’t I get hold of Ruby?
“She’s getting that bed over my dead body,” Keith said.
It was at least the third time he’d flung out the words “over my dead body,” and each time he uttered the phrase, it became more likely. I sort of wanted to murder him.
A sharp knock on my office door made both of us flinch in our seats, and without waiting for me to respond, the door pushed open. My father lurked in the doorway, his expression solemn.
“Please excuse the interruption, Mr. Gillespie,” he said. His gaze slid to mine. “Kyle, we need your help with something. It’s urgent.”
He wouldn’t interrupt me with a client unless it was serious. I excused myself and joined my father in the hall, only he didn’t stay there and explain. He moved swiftly down the corridor, heading for the lobby. What the hell was going on? Unease chewed at me as I went after him.
He turned the corner and led me to the front desk where I pulled up short.
Ruby stood beside the half-wall the assistant’s desk was behind, and she leaned on it as if using it for support to keep her upright. Her cheeks were blotchy and her eyes rimmed with red.
I didn’t care that my father was standing there, glaring at me, or how Suzanne, the administrative assistant, was leering at us like she didn’t want to miss a second of drama. All that mattered was Ruby was crying.
I spoke on a low voice and stepped close. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t!” Her voice was pure fire and she backed away, her gaze fixed on my tie as if it were offensive. “Where were you today at one o’clock?”
The lobby became a vacuum. I couldn’t breathe. I never anticipated Tariq would go to her, but I should have. Fuck, I should have just told her about Joseph and the club.
I couldn’t take her back to my office because Gillespie was there. “Come on,” I said, hushed. “Let’s find somewhere to talk about it.”
“No! Just answer the goddamn question.”
I clenched my jaw, feeling my father’s gaze digging into the back of my head. I just needed her to calm down enough for him to leave, and then I could explain. “I went out to lunch with Joseph.”
She banded an arm over her stomach, practically doubling over, as if my words had struck her painfully in her center. As her anger seemed to rise, so did the volume of her voice. “I know that’s not true, and you promised no lies.”
It was both firm yet desperate. “Keep your voice down.”
“Don’t tell me to be quiet, just tell me where you were.”
Control was slipping away. She already knew my answer. If I gave her anything but the truth, it’d push her temper to redline. I glanced over my shoulder. Robert McCreary studied me the way he studied a witness on cross-examination, and I sighed. “I’ve go
t this under control. Can you tell the client in my office I’ll be another minute?”
“No,” Ruby said. “You don’t have this under control.”
I felt the imaginary knife she stabbed me with, every inch of it as it sliced into me. She wasn’t operating with all the information, but she was at least supposed to know me. She should trust I’d never, ever cheat on her.