Quin places a chaste kiss on the top of my head. No words needed. Just music. Notes. A melody that lasts a lifetime.
And that’s what I want.
A lifetime.
I do.
THE MONA LISA
QUINTON
No updates.
I stareat the text message from Red, my grip on the phone tightening.
No news should be good news. But it’s not. Unease ripples through my bones as distant chatter from the Summit’s banquet breakfast filters into my ears. It’s been weeks now and nothing. No more hacked stereos. No more electronics on the fritz. No emails or calls or cryptic letters. Nothing. It’s like she vanished into thin air. And that’s a problem. How can we prepare for something when we can’t see it coming?
“Are you texting withDamon?” Emery asks, leaning over my shoulder as she tries to get a glimpse of the screen.
"No, just work emails," I reply quickly, pocketing my phone.
If there’s no news, what’s the point of bringing it up? Emery has made it clear she’s not afraid of Toni or what she’s capable of doing. I’m alone in this fight. At least she agreed to hire the bodyguards. It’s not an ideal solution. Not for long. But it’s enough for now. Until we catch her. Until she’s behind bars.
Emery expels a heavy sigh. "Oh. I thought maybe Damon texted you. He's been ignoring me."
I frown. "He’s beenignoringyou?"
She takes out her phone, showing me the messages between the two of them. I scan through the texts, realizing how brief Damon's responses have been. "Well…technically, he’s replying.”
Emery's frustration is palpable as she snatches her phone back. "The letter 'K' is not a reply. A thumbs-up emoji is not a reply.” She crosses her arms defensively. “Liking my message isn’t a reply.”
I rein in a knowing chuckle. "Darling,youtext like that.”
Emery scowls. "But Damon doesn't. He's a rambler. This," she gestures to her phone. "This isn't rambling." She expels a labored rumble. “We shouldn’t have left him. He’s probably at home all alone sinking into a deep depression. I mean, I wouldn’t blame him. He hasn’t had the best couple of years, has he?”
I briefly glance around the banquet hall, weighing whether I should risk showing Emery affection in aroom full of worldwide executives. I know she made rules for this weekend but fuck it. I don't care. She can be mad at me later. I place a tender hand over her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“It’s okay, Emery. I’m worried about him too.” I motion to the lobby. “Why don’t we go give him a ring? A video call?”
Emery thinks about my offer for a moment before nodding, and I hope that seeing his face, alive and well, will alleviate her concern. At least temporarily.
I lead Emery to a secluded area in the lobby, away from prying eyes and ears. Praying he answers, I video call Damon.
The line rings for a few seconds before Damon's face appears on the screen, his expression already somber. "What's wrong?"
I lift a brow, frowning at I scan Damon’s surroundings. He outside. The wind whistles faintly through the speaker. A dog barks. At least he’s outside, not cooped up in his self-imposed prison.
"Nothing’s wrong," I say hesitantly, not wanting to make it seem like a mental health check. “We just wanted to say hi.”
"Hi," Damon replies flatly, his gaze shifting slightly.
“How are you?” Emery asks, her smile weak and worried. “We miss you.”
Damon clears his throat. “I’m good, yeah. Just, uh, just at the park.”
“That’s good,” Emery says. “Fresh air and?—”
“Bones! No, leave it!” a feminine voice exclaims in the background.
