Their Virgin Secretary (Masters of Ménage #6)(35)

Eric knew more about the story than most. Not only had Yasmin tried to kill her husband, she'd aborted several of his children, all the while calling them miscarriages and using her "grief" to extort money from her mourning husband.

Yeah, Oliver might never trust a woman again.

Rory leaned in, obviously not one to let a little tragedy keep him down. "Hey, when you hire your next secretary, make sure she's at least as hot as Belle. Gorgeous girl, but she took that rule about not dating clients far too seriously." He shook his head. "I tried. More than once. Shame."

After a good-bye Eric barely heard, the Brits walked away. And he felt a nasty hollow gnaw at the pit of his stomach. Anger threatened to take over.

"She went back to Chicago without us?" Kellan's jaw formed a tight line. He was obviously as furious as Eric felt.

Tate was already on his phone, but he hung up quickly. "It's going straight to voice mail."

The other two looked to him. What the hell should they do? Giving Belle time to herself hadn't done anything but allow her to run. Worry started to shove aside the anger and guilt. She'd gotten on the road at three in the morning? By herself? She couldn't have had any sleep. She shouldn't be driving on lonely highways while exhausted. "We don't know that she went back to Chicago. That's a long drive to make by herself."

"Well, apparently she has a dog with her." Tate's fingers tapped against the desk, a nervous habit Eric recognized from their high school days. "Why would she run?" 

"Because she wants to teach us a lesson." Kellan cursed and his mouth turned down, his eyes softening with regret. "Because I hurt her last night. Damn it. I need to see her. Even if this doesn't work out, I need to apologize. She should know why I can't commit to anyone."

A sudden thought hit Eric. "Doesn't Kinley drive a Benz?"

Kellan sighed in clear relief. "She's probably gone to Kinley's. Thank god. They only live about thirty minutes from here. We'll find her in less than an hour. Let's go."

As they turned to leave, a familiar blonde strode into the café with Jessa Lennox and the oil tycoons' wife, Hannah James. The ladies smiled and laughed, but the minute Kinley saw them, her pretty face morphed into a mask of contempt. She turned on her heels and directed the other women to a different section of the café.

"Well, we're persona non grata," Tate said with a frown. "I guess we won't get invited to the baby shower. Thank god."

Eric didn't give a shit about that, only that Belle clearly hadn't left with her best friend. Still, Kinley must know damn well where Belle had gone. He felt his eyes narrow as she sat down, putting her back to them as she leaned to whisper something. Then the other two women were turning up their little noses at them, too. Oh, hell. Women. He would never understand them. He lived with Tate, and they didn't spend their time "bonding" by sharing their feelings or whatever. But clearly Belle had marched away from what had probably been the most humiliating evening of her life and immediately told the tale to her friends. Perfect.

Okay, she was pissed, but that was much better than sad. Pissed he could work with … once she calmed down enough to have a rational conversation.

Eric stood. It was time for him to take charge. "I think we need to go see Dominic and have a chat with him."

Tate followed. "Why Dominic? Can't we talk to Riley? He and I speak the same language."

But Kellan seemed to follow his line of thought. "Oh, no, we're talking to Dominic because his sub is keeping us from ours. Yeah, I like the way you think, Cohen. Let's have a nice talk, Dom to Dom."

Kellan strode forward, taking the lead now. This was why Eric couldn't give up. They worked in tandem, and he liked it that way. He couldn't give up on his best friends, his partners.

And he damn straight wasn't about to give up on the woman they would call their wife.



* * * *



Belle held Sir in one arm, looking up at the three-story Spanish-Colonial house. It looked unassuming from the front. Pinkish plaster walls that needed repair and blue shutters that framed what looked to be original windows. The upper levels would have a bird's-eye view overlooking the lively, eclectic street. The walls butted up to the brick-paved sidewalk. The house oozed charm.

She'd managed to park down the street, then lug her bags through the throng of tourists who walked up and down the Quarter, even in the middle of the brisk fall morning. As she stopped before the house, she stared, letting reality soak in. This would be home now.

Coming closer, Belle decided she liked the overall vibe of the place. The air of the house looked a little sad and neglected now, but she'd change that. Since her best friend knew how to plan an escape, Kinley had already arranged for a moving service to pack up her Chicago apartment. Once her things arrived, she'd move in, spruce it up, and start a new life.