Page 77

I reach for the phone on the nightstand. It’s one of our drivers—the one who drove Ella to and from the gala last night.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Good morning, Mr. Vexley.”

“What is it?”

“I apologize for disturbing you, sir. I only wanted to confirm that Ms. Hart made it home safely last night.”

I sit straight up in bed. “What?”

“I waited for her after the gala, as instructed. She never came out to the pickup point. I checked with the event staff, but they said most guests had already left by then. I assumed perhaps she rode home with you or another member of the family, but⁠—”

My heart races. “She didn’t take the car?”

“No, sir.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“I’m sorry, sir. The staff at the venue said she probably took another car. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

I close my eyes. What if something happened to her?

“Did anyone see her leave?”

“I asked two valets. They believe she may have gone toward the rideshare area a little before midnight, but they weren’t certain.”

Rideshare.

Christ.

She took a rideshare home.

Or tried to.

Or—

No.

Can’t go there.

“Thank you,” I say.

“Of course, sir. I only wanted to make sure⁠—”

“I’ll handle it.” I end the call.

For several seconds, I sit on the edge of my bed, phone in hand, breathing as if I just ran a freaking marathon.

She’s fine.

She has to be.

Ella is one of our employees. That’s all. An employee failed to use the transportation arranged for her after a formal event. I should check on her. That’s reasonable. Responsible, even.

I stand and dress quickly. Dark trousers. White shirt. No tie. My father is still out. He didn’t return last night. Business in New York, his assistant told me, which can mean business in New York or anything else he prefers not to name.

Good.