I am not looking for her.
I am not checking on her. I am not wondering if she is sitting behind her desk with that focused line between her brows.
I am not wondering if she is wearing something I bought her under one of those sensible suits.
I am not thinking about the message she did not answer yesterday.
I am walking.
That is all.
The corridor is quiet. The morning rush has settled behind closed doors as meetings are well underway and emails are sent off.
I pass one conference room.
Then another.
By the time I reach the turn toward Victoria’s office, my irritation has turned inward.
I should not have sent the message.
No. I should not care that she did not answer it.
I have no interest in chasing a woman. Victoria is not some frightened girl who needs managing. She is an intelligent, grown woman with a steel spine.
If she needed space, she could say so.
If she regretted Friday, she could say so.
My mouth tightens.
I have not yet rounded the corner when Lorenzo’s voice reaches me.
“She’s gone. Left in a hurry.”
I stop for only a moment, then finish rounding the corner.
Lorenzo stands in the hall, one shoulder against the wall, his expression as controlled as ever. He has that look he gets when he has something he needs to tell me and thinks I need to be managed.
I do not care for that look today.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“I mean, she left.” His eyes move briefly toward her door. “Quickly.”
I look past him.
The door to her office is not fully closed, which is not usual. She usually closes it firmly when she’s gone. Even when she’s wandering about within the building.
This time, her office door is ajar. Behind it, there are no signs of life. No usual movement of Victoria and the click of her keyboard or the flurry of paperwork.
She is, indeed, gone.
“When?”
“A few minutes ago.”
“You saw her?”
