I don't consider myself influential but I'm hopeful that what I said to Caleb earlier resonated enough that he made the decision to help Asher. I want the younger Foster brother to be here, resting in bed or watching television. I want him to be safe.
"Who are you? Who let you up here?"
I turn to face the woman asking the questions. She's significantly older than me, which probably means she's not here in a capacity other than professional. I know Caleb's type and this woman isn't it.
"I'm Rowan Bell. I'm a friend of Caleb's." I stop to think about that last statement. "The doorman knows me. He let me up."
"You're a friend of Caleb's?" she parrots the words back to me. "I've never heard of you."
I should take some degree of offense at that but I can't. In a social sense, Caleb and I cross paths only several times a year at various benefit dinners or events. We don't share many of the same friends and while he's out trolling bars and clubs for his next bedmate, I'm generally home by ten going over work that I didn't have time for in the office. We don't travel in the same circles. Our friendship is typically focused on text messages, phone calls and the occasional lunch or drink after work.
"Are you one of his girls?" She eyes me closely. "A lot of you show up here."
Isn't that nice? This random stranger who is standing guard at Caleb's doorway thinks that I'm here because I can't resist him. "I'm not one of his girls."
"Do you think you're special to him?" She leans in so close that I can spot a few wayward dark hairs darting out of her nostrils. "You all think you're so special to him."
If resentment had a spokeswoman, I'd nominate this person for the job. What the hell is her problem? If I had to guess it's that she propositioned Caleb and he unceremoniously turned her down.
"Who are you?" I have just as might right to interrogate her, as she has to question me. "Caleb has never mentioned you before either."
She takes a step back before her tongue juts out to run over her bottom lip. "I'm Ruby. I'm the new house manager."
"Caleb has a house manager? Since when?" The bigger question is why. Caleb lives in this spacious apartment all alone. He may have a guest stay over from time-to-time, or more likely every night, but there's no reason for him to have someone to manage that. He's wasteful. It's just another reason why we're so utterly mismatched.
"I started last month." She glances down at the gold wristwatch on her arm.
"Where were you earlier?" I nod towards her. "I didn't see you here this afternoon."
"I was running errands for Caleb," she says it with so much pride it's as if she ventured out on a journey to bring back lifesaving supplies.
I shake my head slightly. "Where is he? I need to talk to him."
"He's not here." She shifts to the right on her feet before pulling her index finger over the dusty surface of a small table that is placed in the foyer. "I need to address this."
I need to find Caleb, or more importantly, I need to find Asher. "Do you know where he is?"
"He's on a date." The words leave her lips just as I feel my smartphone vibrate in my hand.
I look down and I finally feel my lungs fill with air. It's Asher. He's calling and I may just get all the answers I need.
Chapter 6
"Why aren't we at Axel NY?" Ivy Marlow says as she glances around the vibrantly colored Italian eatery that is only blocks away from her apartment. "I made the reservation for Axel myself last week, Rowan."
She did. I can't argue that point. Axel is Ivy's favorite restaurant in all of Manhattan. It's actually the first choice of many of the people I know, including Caleb. I have little doubt that he's there right now, sitting way too close to his date, drinking a glass of wine and trying to control his raging hard-on. I shake my head to ward off the thought.
When I spoke to Asher on the phone he told me that he hadn't seen Caleb since the police were called to their office. I could hear the regret in his tone. He's staying with a friend tonight. His voice cracked when he asked me if he could stop by my office in the morning. I suggested we meet briefly this evening, but I could tell he was exhausted. He promised, without the least bit of prompting on my part, that he'd stay in and sleep. Asher knows the devastation that I suffered through because of a man's addictions in the past.
"Something is wrong." She gestures towards me with the half-full glass of house red wine in her hand. "You've been jumpy since you got to my place."
I could argue that I was jumpy because her son decided to use my lap as a mini trampoline. I'd tried to embrace her three-year-old son, Jackson, when I walked through the door but he had another plan in place. He'd dragged me by the hand to an overstuffed leather chair, instructed me to sit and proceeded to use my head as leverage as he bounced on my lap. Right now my thighs are on fire. I was going to swing by the gym for a yoga class in the morning to try and relax, but I doubt I'll even be able to bend my legs at all. Jackson is the sweetest boy I've ever met, but he's not a lightweight. The boy is built like his father. He's strong and sturdy and judging by the warm embrace he gave me before I left, his heart is just as big as Jax Walker's heart is.
"How's Jax?" I try to change the subject by shifting it to her husband. "Why wasn't he at home?"
She peers over the edge of the wine glass. "He's meeting with a business associate about a new deal. You never ask about Jax. What's going on?"
"Your sitter seemed nice." I decide that for now, I'm going to play the oblivious card. If Ivy gets enough wine into