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He led me through the door and up some stairs, opening another door that led into a long, narrow room. It wasn’t fancy, with thin, dark purple carpet, a simple pine desk at one end, some boxes stacked neatly to the roof at the other. The room was lit by the soft glow of a lamp on the desk and the purple and red lights filtering in through the floor to ceiling windows from the club down below.
“Are you okay?” Wolfe asked.
“Y-yes,” I replied, tugging his suit jacket tighter around my shoulders when he pulled away. I was still trying to process what had just happened. “He didn’t hurt me.”
“Good,” he growled. He pulled his phone from his pocket, a heavy scowl on his face as he typed out a quick message.
“Wh-what are you doing?” Calling someone to come and escort me out? Make sure I get home safely?
“Telling Thelma to fire the doorman.”
I gasped. I didn’t like the guy, but he didn’t need to lose his job because of me. “That’s not necessary.”
He shot me a hard look. “I disagree. If I hadn’t seen you on the security footage, where do you think you’d be right now?”
I swallowed heavily.
“Exactly. I don’t know why you didn’t call or text first.”
Because I knew I’d chicken out if I spoke to you first. Problem with that was, I hadn’t banked on the idea that he really didn’t want to see me. “Wolfe, I’m—”
Shoving his fingers through his hair, he huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Esme. I can’t do this right now. It’s show night.” He gestured out the windows, at nearly naked women hanging upside down on trapezes, swinging back and forth.
Tears of humiliation stung my eyes, and a lump formed in my throat. God, this was so awful and embarrassing. I should never have come. “I understand.”
He looked at me closely for a long moment, then all the anger and tension drained away from him. “You’ve misunderstood. Whatever you’ve come here for, I can definitely do, but not right this minute. I have a situation that needs my immediate attention.”
He can definitely do whatever I’m here for? Jesus. “What situation?” It seemed ridiculous in the face of what he’d just said, but he looked stressed, and I wanted to know why.
“A paparazzo has somehow gotten inside. We have to hunt him down before he ruins someone’s career and my club. I was looking for him on the camera, checking if he’d left, when I saw you.” Scrubbing his hand over his face, he said, “That walk from the security center out to the front door was the longest of my fucking life, Esme.”
The anguish in his eyes had my stomach knotting. “I’m sorry.”
Reaching out, he ran his knuckles down my cheek in a soft caress. “You really are okay?”
“I am now.”
That made him smile. “Good,” he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’ll wait here?”
I nodded.
“I’ll be as quick as I can. Hopefully, Greg has already sorted it. I’ll get Thelma to send up some food and a drink.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
He ran his eyes over my face one more time, then, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, turned to go.
“Wolfe…”
He turned back, his hand on the door handle, looking at me enquiringly.
“No alcohol. In the drink. Soda is fine.”
Something flashed in his eyes, maybe an acknowledgement of what I meant by no alcohol, and then he was gone.
CHAPTER17
Wolfe