I get it. She’s attached to her cat, but she also needs to grow up. She can’t throw responsibility out the door the minute her cat decides to go on a little adventure.
What the hell does she expect me to do? Walk into that boardroom and tell ten of the top execs in TLS, “Sorry, folks, show’s over. Gemma’s cat decided to take a walkabout, so you all need to go home. Sorry for dragging you in here. Anyone want to join the search party?”
If there is one thing I hate, it’s being embarrassed. Shit like this tarnishes the Ashbury Thornton name. Gemma should know that.
Gemma
Asshole. I blink back tears as I walk in the door.
I look at Lizzie and she shakes her head, her expression grim. No joy. No Winnie. And now, no support from the man I thought might actually give a damn. That was stupid of me.
“Do you think I’m overreacting?” I ask her. “I know it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet.”
“No, babe. It’s natural that you’re worried,” Lizzie says softly, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I’m going to knock on doors and put up posters,” I say. “Can you stay here in case she comes back?”
She nods and hugs me again.
Maybe Liam’s right, though. Maybe I am overreacting. But unless you’ve had a furry companion, you can’t understand what it feels like. The panic, the fear, the twisting dread in the pit of your stomach . . .
I’m screwing Liam over by not being there, but yeah, maybe a small part of me thought that sleeping with him would make him a little softer toward me. He’s met Winnie. He’s seen how much she means to me. I stupidly believed my distress would matter to him.
I can’t reconcile these two different parts of him—Liam my fisherman, the man who jumped into the sea to get a hat for me, and Liam the asshole who only cares about his precious TLS deal.
I know how this looks. I know it’s unprofessional as hell. These are the sticking points for Sir Whitmore—the people, how they’ll be treated, what will happen to them. And Liam was using me to convince him, to smooth the way and make everything all neat and tidy so he could land this deal.
But you know what? Winnie matters to me above all else. I’ve worked my ass off to help him get this far—and he won’t give an inch when I need something in return.
Fuck Liam. Fuck the job. Fuck everything.
Winnie is all that matters now.
Thirty minutes later, I’m a blubbering, snotty disaster as I staple poster after poster to every available pole. Pretty sure this is illegal but screw it. I’ll gladly pay the fine if it means bringing Winnie home. I’d staple them to people’s heads if it would help find her.
Winnie’s judgy little face stares back at me from each flyer, and it’s like a punch to the gut every time. Telling me what a shitty cat mum I am for letting her escape.
My phone rings and I fumble to answer it, nearly dropping the damn thing and all my flyers in the process.
“Lizzie? Is she back? Did you find her?” I practically yell into the phone, my heart lodged in my throat.
“No, babe, I’m sorry. But there are people here . . . they say they’re pet detectives?”
Pet detectives? What, like Ace Ventura? Is this some kind of sick joke?
“Lizzie, don’t let them in yet,” I warn. “They probably saw the Facebook group posts and are trying to scam us. The nerve of some people, preying on desperate pet owners like this . . .”
“They say they’re from Animal Rescue England,” Lizzie explains, sounding equally skeptical.
Never heard of them. But then again, I’ve never lost a pet before. Never had to navigate the pet detective world.
“I’m on my way back.” I stuff the remaining posters into my bag and take off on a run. If this is a scam, I swear to god I’ll rip their heads off. I’m not in the mood for any bullshit right now.
As I race down the road toward the house, I’m greeted by the sight of four black SUVs parked outside my flat, as if MI5 decided to make a pit stop in Putney. Six people, all dressed in matching gear, are clustered around Lizzie at the front gate. One of them even has a tracking hound.
“You must be Gemma,” one of them says as I reach them. “I’m Sam Douglas, and these are my colleagues from Animal Rescue. We’re here to help find your cat.”
Is he fucking with me right now? I narrow my eyes. “I don’t understand, I didn’t call you.”
