“Fuck,” Michael murmured as he turned and pulled his phone from his coat. Before making a call, Michael spoke in a low voice, “Sir, I’m sure we can find her. Let’s go inside the hotel or get in my car. People are starting to record us.”
Fuck.
“I’m not going anywhere but to Julia.” As my voice continued in a low growl, beyond my erupting bubble of anger, I now saw the cell phones pointing our direction and heard the hushed whispers. “Make them stop,” I said through clenched teeth as I lowered my face.
“I can’t. If I do, it’ll be worse.”
“Worse? My fucking fiancée is gone.” I pulled out my phone, ready to hit Julia’s number.
“Mr. Sherman, unless you want to see your face all over the news media, please, come with me.”
Keeping my eyes downcast, I pivoted toward Michael’s car. Before we took a step, I turned back to the idiot who handed Julia over to Phillip. “You’re coming with us.”
The man’s pale lips formed a straight line as he nodded.
“We need to hear exactly what happened,” Michael added in a reassuring tone.
With Michael in the lead, I followed, trailed by Albert.
Michael opened the back door to his sedan for me. Taking a deep breath, I ignored the onlookers, ducked my head, and sat in the confined space. As Michael closed the door, deafening the world beyond the car, I lifted my phone, wanting a message from Julia.
Something.
Anything.
A fucking crumb.
Nothing.
Finding Julia’s cell number, I hit call.
The silence was thunderous as Michael and Albert joined me in the car, and I waited for the call to connect. The city was filled with signals as some cell tower finally connected. Holding my breath, I listened as Julia’s phone rang through mine.
Fucking answer, I screamed in my own head.
Her voice was a stab to my heart. “You have reached—”
Disconnecting the call and ignoring Michael and Albert’s conversation, I tried the call again. The result was exactly the same—two rings and voicemail. I longed to listen to her voice, the tone and melody, forever. That was my plan. I disconnected without leaving a message.
“Mr. Sherman,” Albert began from the front seat.
I lifted my hand. “I don’t want apologies. I want Ms. McGrath.”
“He looked like you,” Albert said.
I nodded.
“Sir,” Michael said, “are you now telling us that you have a twin.”
Explaining my cohabitants within a uterus wasn’t high on my priority list at the moment. “He’s not a fucking doppelgänger. Yes, as I said, my brother and I are identical.”
“And you didn’t think that was valuable information for us to know?”
“I never thought…” he’d have the nerve, the resolve, or the determination to get this close.
My words and thoughts trailed away as the hotel’s entrance caught my attention. I turned back to Michael. “The Waldorf has to have security cameras. Can you get surveillance footage of this entrance? How about a license plate?”
“I’m working on that, sir. My company is already talking with the Waldorf’s security team.” His gaze met mine. “Now that we know you have a twin...”