I turned and walked out of the apartment. Another glance at my watch showed that it was a quarter after one. No call from Delaney.
I wasn’t known for patience, although I knew that was what this situation called for.
“Mr. King, welcome back to the center. It’s always a pleasure to see you,” Rebecca, the receptionist, greeted me when I signed in.
“Thank you, Becca,” I mumbled, adjusting my tie and looking around the lobby.
“Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Williams are not here today. They’re both out of town for a family funeral.”
“I am aware of that. His grandmother passed. I’ve sent flowers and a donation to her favorite charity.”
“That is very sweet of you. How may I help you if you aren’t here to see them?”
“I’m here to see Ms. Synclair. Is she in today?”
“Uhm, . . . yes. She is. She actually just got back from lunch.”
I glanced at my watch again and noticed that it was two on the nose. All this time had passed since this morning, and she had even taken a lunch break, but she hadn’t found time to call me. I didn’t like that at all.
“Does she have any meetings this afternoon?”
“No, she doesn’t. Would you like for me to call and tell her you’re out here?”
“No, thank you. I have a surprise for her. I’ll just show myself back.”
“Okay, Mr. King.”
I walked away from the reception desk and headed to the second floor of the museum. Taking a right at the circular stairwell, I headed toward the end of the hall to a corner office. Her office sat catty-cornered from the Williams’ office at the same end of the hall.
I rapped on the door lightly before I pushed it open. Delaney’s head was bent over her computer, and she had some wireless glasses perched on the edge of her nose.
“Come in,” she called, not realizing that I had already invited myself inside.
When I closed the door behind me, her head popped up, and she looked startled.
“What are you doing here?”
“Making sure that you’re still alive.”
“Excuse me?” she asked, removing the glasses from her nose as she frowned at me.
That simple act of her removing her glasses reminded me of the visit that I had just made to the other side of town.
“I don’t know. Usually when someone receives a gift, the recipient reaches out to the sender and thanks them for the gift.”
“I don’t recall asking you to send me one.”
“Recipients don’t usually ask for the gifts. They mostly get the gift because the sender believes that they are deserving of it.”
She smirked and crossed her arms over her breasts. “You thought that I deserved it?”
She wore a fuchsia wrap dress that had a deep V-cut neckline, and it boasted ample cleavage. I thought about the question that Clayton asked about if I was fucking her, and my response.
I pulled my gaze from her breasts back to her eyes. “Yes, don’t you?”
“I think I’m deserving of the best of everything, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t do those things for myself.”
“Because you haven’t had a man who knows how to spoil you, you decide that anything good has to come from yourself.”
