Page 61 of Bobby

“Alfonso,” I say into the intercom, then wait for his annoyed sigh to come through.

“Yes?” Annoying him is a secret delight I have.

“Please send in Ms. Frazzer.”

“She’s not here.” His response is immediate, stopping me mid-rise.

“Well, where the hell is she?”

“How would I know?”

I growl in agitation. I need to see my girl. It’s been long enough as it is, and I won’t go a second longer than I have to.

“Check your email.” Alfonso’s voice crackles through the intercom.

I pull up my inbox and see the recent incoming message.

Dear Mr. Leone,

Unfortunately, due to what happened last week, I felt it best to email you the results of our findings, with my summary below. Feel free to reach out if you have questions on the data. I feel this communication will be more effective than meeting in person going forward.

The next message that comes in is a cancellation of all future in-person meetings set for us that I’d created for the foreseeable future.

I reread the email a second time. Does she really think she can walk away from me? Usually, this type of thing would piss me off. Someone telling me what to do instead of the other way around. But when it’s Willow, all it does is make me smile.

She must think that what happened between us was a fluke. A stolen moment lost in a storm. She must think I was playing when I spoke about her being mine.

I wasn’t.

“Send in Marco,” I tell my secretary, and a moment later, my second-in-command comes in.

“Yes, sir?”

“Will you collect Ms. Frazzer for me?”

His eyes narrow before he must see something on my face that makes them glint with amusement.

“Of course,” he murmurs before leaving.

Once he’s gone, I pull out my phone and send a few messages while I wait.

As expected, it doesn’t take long for Marco to return with what I asked for.

I can hear her from outside, protesting that she already canceled the meeting, but I don’t pay Marco to listen to anyone but me.

“Ms. Frazzer,” I say loudly the moment Marco cracks the door.

He pulls it open for her, and she stands there, frozen like a deer in headlights as she looks at me, not moving forward as I sit on the edge of my desk and face the doorway.

Marco’s chuckle floats between us, but it isn’t until he puts a hand on her back and pushes her forward that she stumbles into my office. But she holds her position at the opening as Marco shuts the door behind her.

“Hello,” I greet her with a smirk.

She dips her head, then waves. “Hi.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting her out. I know how to get answers from people. Not talking is key. It puts pressure on them to fill the unwanted silence.

And like a cookie, she crumbles under pressure.