“Dad, I’m calling about Natasha.”
I stop cold. “What’s going on?”
“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I saw her a few hours ago, and she ... she wasn’t right, Dad. She’s sick, and she was so fucking scared of me.”
My entire fucking world tilts off its axis.
“Where was she?” I demand, already walking through the house toward my car.
“At a pharmacy, getting some medicine.” He gives me the area, and I scowl.
“What the fuck is she doing on that side of town? Wait, what areyoudoing over there?”
“I needed a prescription, and the doctor’s office sent it to the wrong place. Had to hunt it down. Anyway, I don’t know what Natasha is doing over there, but she didn’t have enough money for her meds, so I paid for them and tried to give her the cash back that she’d spilled onto the counter, but she wouldn’t let me near her. Dad, she looksreally bad. Skinny and fragile.”
What the fuck have I done?
“Did you see where she went?”
“Yeah, she walked across the street to a motel. She must be staying there? I can show you.”
“Send me your location, and I’ll meet you there. You said this was hours ago?”
Elliott clears his throat. “I’m sorry, but you warned me to stay away from her, and I didn’t want to piss you off. But?—”
“You did the right thing. Fuck. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
I hang up and call my finance guy.
“Hello, Mr. Stavros.”
“When is the last time my wife used her credit card?”
I can hear tapping on keys in the background and then he says, “Roughly three weeks ago.”
“And what did she spend it on?”
“There were three charges that day. She spent six grand at Chanel, and then thirty dollars each on two Uber rides.”
My wife took a fuckingrideshare, by herself.
“And nothing since?”
“No, sir.”
I hang up and dial Benji’s number. He’s the one who was supposed to take Natasha home.
“Boss.”
“I gave you instructions to take my wife to her father’s home.”
“Yes, sir, we did.”
“Did you take her to the front door?”
There’s a pause. “No, we left her at the gate. Pulled her out of the car and dumped her bags with her, then left.”
I end the call and fist my hands around the wheel, driving entirely too fast into the city. Jesus fucking Christ, what have I done?
