“Landon... too much blood,” I gasp. Flecks of light dance in my vision.
“Two more days of driving and we’ll be at the weed farm. Veronica won't visit there. It’ll just be the two of us. I’ll be the king, and you’ll be my slave.”
I feel a cold sweat break across my forehead. The nausea returns. I try to lift my head as I lurch to throw up again.
“Fuck, Lena. Stop that. It’s smelling up the van.”
Landon crawls on top of me. I can feel that he’s naked, but my eyelids are too heavy to open.
“Just a couple of days and we'll be home.” He touches my thigh, his hand moving upward. “It’s been a minute...”
He squeezes my leg. My stomach turns over, and I vomit again. It’s just water and bile this time, but it lands right on his face.
“What the fuck!”
He slaps me hard across the face, the world spinning into darkness.
27
GRIFFIN
It's almost two in the morning when I finally arrive back home. The night was long and difficult, but I was able to turn the deal around. I left the charity gala with all of my ducks in a row. The merger between firms is going to be a nightmare, but I’ll make it happen.
When I walk into the loft, everything is still and deathly silent. Selena is asleep upstairs, so I make myself a cup of chamomile tea to calm my nerves and spend a little time tying up loose ends I wasn't able to get to while her family was staying with us. It’s nice to have our quiet, peaceful home back.
At about three in the morning, I conclude my work, close my laptop, and walk upstairs. Absent-mindedly, I strip out of my clothes and toss them into the hamper near the bathroom door. I don't dare turn on the light because Selena needs her sleep.
The moment I enter our room, I know something is wrong. She doesn't snore, but she has a soft breathing pattern. I stand there listening for it, and I hear nothing. I turn on the lights to find that our bed is still made and Selena is not in it. In a panic, I rush to the room that I gave her as a sanctuary. I flip on the light, and my eyes scan the space, but again, nothing has been disturbed. Running up to the roof, I flip the floodlights on to see if she's fallen asleep in the hot tub. She's not there either.
After tearing through the house and checking every single room, I finally conclude that Selena has run away from me again. My heart is racing at lightning speed. I assume Socially Sorrel upset her, but I was planning on talking to her about it when she woke up. I have a whole speech planned. I'm ready totell her that I'm willing to make this real. I don't want to let her go, and the more I think about her and the day I’ll lose her, the sicker I become. After that fucking bitch said all that horrible shit about Selena, I realized that she is the woman I want to spend my life with. At the moment, losing Selena is the only thing that will break me.
I follow the app I have tracing her phone and run into the garage, where I find it on the ground near a wall. The screen is shattered, and there's a dent in the case. It looks like it wasn't dropped but thrown. I've never seen Selena be angry enough to destroy anything.
I call the police. I explain the events of the evening and go over the timeline from the moment I came home until I discovered she wasn't here. The police come within the hour and comb the loft for fingerprints and any trace of Selena. I’m numb and I’m terrified. I’m waiting for a decent hour to call Celeste and ask her where Selena may have gone. Those two love each other more than anything on this earth. I trust that my wife will call her sister; she did when she ran from her ex.
For one second, I think about him. Celeste mentioned that he found out Selena was married from Instagram.
“She didn’t take her purse with her or any identification? No personal belongings?” The officer confirms. “Do you know what she was wearing?”
It’s then that I realize she still has the diamonds because the case is empty and gaping open on our dressing room table. I’m instantly sick when I say almost inaudibly, “She is wearing about seven million dollars in diamonds.”
“Oh,” the officer says, surprised. “That’s information you should have shared immediately.”
“She wouldn’t take them. I mean, she did take them, yes, but it’s because she was so stressed or upset she forgot to take them off.” I know Selena wouldn’t steal them.
“But she took off the dress she was wearing? And hung it up? So she was lucid enough to remember to do that.”
God, they think she’s a thief. They are not going to look for her if they think she’s run away from our marriage.
“Trust me, she forgot…” My words trail off, and I start speaking rapidly because I need them to hear me. “Listen. When I married her, she didn’t have much.”
“She has a lot now,” the officer teases, and I’m about to punch him square in the jaw.
“No. Her clothes and those suitcases…” I point to the two suitcases in the corner of our closet, “…have not been touched. None of her clothes are gone. What I’m trying to tell you is I think she’s only wearing a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. It’s sheer and not appropriate to wear outside. If she ran, she’d never leave in just that. She would have taken those suitcases…”
“So what are you saying?”
Fuck, what was I saying? I run my fingers through my hair. “I’m calling her sister.”
