Page 242 of Damaged Mogul

It goes straight to voicemail.

I try again.

Same result.

I’m going to burn Stockholm down to the ground if I don’t get answers right the fuck now.

I pace back and forth like an enraged bull, my nostrils flaring, steam billowing from my ears.

I stop dead in my tracks.

Realization flashes over my head like a neon sign.

If Lily was missing, wouldn’t Fisher call NYPD instead of harassing me? He might not have known I was in Sweden, but he knows I live in LA.

She isn’t missing.

She doesn’t want her father to know where she is.

What’s going on, Lily?

Why are you running?

There’s one person on this planet who knows where she is. I’m willing to bet my billions on it.

I call Nadine’s number.

It goes to voicemail.

I see red.

I try again.

Nadine’s cheery voice blares through the speaker.

Her voicemail. Again.

Pure white rage consumes me.

Chapter 45

Gage

Paris wasn’t on the agenda today, but it shot to the top of the list real fast.

I don’t appreciate getting the runaround.

After trying to get a hold of Lily and Nadine numerous times, it was clear there was only one way I was going to be able to get answers. My decision to cancel all my meetings for the rest of my trip will cost me, but not knowing where the hell Lily is will drive me out of my mind. There’s no way I can concentrate until I’m certain Lily is safe.

I didn’t have a private plane reserved, so I grabbed the first flight out of Stockholm. It’s been years since I flew coach. I don’t even fly first class anymore. The near three-hour flight was uncomfortable as fuck on my long legs.

As I was packing my stuff at the speed of light, I sent Phoenix a string of texts, explaining the situation. The time difference with LA played in my favor. By the time I rolled my suitcase near the door, he had appointed someone to help me secure a room at the Pompadour Paris. His hotel is my stomping ground, but they were fully booked, so I get to stay inhis private suite. After leaving my luggage in the room, I set off on my mission.

It’s two o’clock when the taxi stops in front of a tiny shop with a blue door.

I read the sign.

Blue Belle.