Page 88 of Threaded Lies

“You do.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, I’m coming with you because I know how easily you get lost in your work.” She hooks her arm through mine as we wait for the elevator. “It’s a Saturday afternoon, the girls are waiting for us to play bunco, get tipsy, and plan your bachelorette party. If I let you come in here alone, you’ll never leave. So make it snappy.”

“I will. I promise.” I laugh.

“No, you won’t, but I love you anyway for it.”

“All I need to do is grab a folder,” I say.

“I’m aware.” She snips my phone out of my hand. “You’ll get this back when you return.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I know, but I’ll stand right here and hold the elevator in the meantime.”

It only takes me seconds to get to my office, find the folder I forgot, and head back to a waiting Caroline, who is literally standing with her hand against the automatic door opener of the elevator car.

I hold my hand out. “Phone?”

She smiles and shrugs. “There you go.”

“Thank you.”

I step in the elevator car with her and select the ground floor but am startled when it slows down at the third floor.

And I’m even more surprised when the doors open and Pencil Skirt is standing there, looking gorgeous as ever and a tad disheveled. Her hair is mussed and her cheeks are flushed as she stands with a cell phone to her ear.

We’re afforded a smile and nod as she enters the elevator car. “Yes. He’s … hard to put into words.”

Of course she has a lush British accent and smells phenomenal.

What the fuck is she doing here?

“Mm-hm. I know. He requires exclusivity. It’s part of his deal, but he is 100 percent worth it. A sure thing every time.”

I can feel Caroline’s eyes on me but I keep my eyes focused straight ahead, afraid I’ll give too much away by the look on my face.

She’s here. In the office. On the third floor. A place no one goes unless they want complete privacy in one of the many smaller conference rooms down there.

The person on the other end of the phone must be talking to her because all I hear from the rest of the conversation is Pencil Skirt making noncommittal sounds.

The elevator lands on the ground floor and she struts off of it. We follow behind her but she veers toward the doors leading out to the parking lot opposite from where I parked.

“Oh my God,” Caroline says as the doors shut behind us and we are outside. “That’s an escort if I’ve ever seen one.”

My stomach drops. “An escort?”

“Exclusive. Privacy. A sure thing.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Someone is most definitely getting laid.”

“Caroline. I…” I spin around and look back through the glass doors we walked out of and through the ones Pencil Skirt did. Holden’s SUV is parked right outside of them. “I—I forgot one more thing. Give me … a second.”

“Rowan?”

But I’m already back through the doors and jogging to the elevator. The car can’t get here fast enough and when it does, it can’t ascend quick enough. The third floor is empty as I rush through it and within seconds I am up on the fourth floor but come to a halt this time when I turn the corner and see Holden sitting at his desk.

His back is to me as he stands, his hands braced on his desk, clearly looking at something.

He wasn’t there minutes ago when I went to my office.