Page 37 of Meet Me In The Dark (Skeptically In Love #3)

Julian

I shouldn’t have left her last night.

The thought has been wedged in my skull since the second I stepped out of her apartment. It hasn’t dulled. It’s gotten sharper, pressing at the base of my neck and sitting heavy between my eyes.

All day, my mood is a live wire. I’m snapping at anything in reach.

Meetings blur together. Paperwork stacks up in front of me, contracts and decisions piling higher. I don’t breathe between them, and I don’t want to. The less time I spend in my own head, the better.

Men shift in their seats when my gaze lands on them. Good. Let them feel it. Let them sweat, because I am.

Every minute away from her feels wrong, and I can’t explain it without sounding like I’ve completely lost my mind.

“The projections for quarter three look promising,” one of the execs starts, shuffling through a report. “We anticipate—”

“I don’t want anticipation,” I cut in, my voice flat but lethal. “I want guarantees. If you can’t give me that, you’re wasting my fucking time.”

Silence falls like a blade.

“I’ll have them by tomorrow,” he says.

“See that you do.”

The meeting ends in a scrape of chairs and hurried exits. Nobody lingers when I’m like this. They know better.

I pinch the bridge of my nose as Avery steps in, clutching her tablet.

“The Sinclair team is here for your three o’clock,” she says. “Ms. Morgan couldn’t make it.”

My pulse slams hard in my chest. “Why not?”

“I don’t know. I think I heard one of them say she isn’t in today.”

The dread that’s been sitting in the background all day surges forward.

I’m already on my feet, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair. “Cancel it.”

She blinks. “What?”

“The meeting. Cancel it. And clear everything else I have today.”

“Julian.” She hurries after me as I move for the door. “Are you sure?”

“Cancel everything. I don’t care what it is. Move it. Reschedule it. Burn it.”

Her shoes click frantically against the floor as she tries to keep up, but I’m already halfway to the elevator.

I know I won’t breathe right again until I see Celeste.

∞∞∞

I force myself to knock gently, even though my pulse is already pushing me toward the opposite.

When the door swings open, the sharp burn of bleach hits me like a slap, but it’s not Celeste on the other side.

Vivid red hair. Piercing, critical eyes. Yellow rubber gloves.

“Ah,” she says, leaning against the frame, looking me over as if she’s measuring me for a coffin. “You.”

From Celeste’s stories, I know exactly who this is. I also know how important her friends are to her, which is the only reason I keep my tone civil.

“Madison, I assume? Nice to meet you. Is Celeste in?”

She props her free hand against the opposite side of the doorway, forming a wall with her body. “Nope. She’s out.”

I glance at the gloves. “And you’re what, cleaning up a crime scene?”

Her mouth twitches, amused. I’ve seen a similar look from executives across a boardroom when they’re deciding if they can take me.

“We usually like to spruce up the place when Celeste is—”

“Hi, Julian.” Emmy slides into view from under Madison’s arm.

I’ve met this one. She seems reasonable.

“Emmy.” My nod is curt, but my patience is already wearing thin. “Do either of you want to tell me where Celeste is?”

They exchange one of those female friend glances—a whole conversation I’m not invited to—before stepping aside.

“Why don’t you come in?” Emmy offers with a tight smile.

But inside, there’s still no Celeste.

I spin around. “Where is she?”

“Margarita?” Madison lifts a half-empty glass, ignoring the question entirely.

“It’s four in the afternoon,” I say flatly.

She shrugs and takes a slow sip.

“Before we tell you,” Emmy begins, “you should know Celeste is fine. Or she will be in a day or two.”

I drag a hand down my face.

Patience. I need to find some fucking patience.

“Ladies.” My voice drops into the tone that clears boardrooms.

Another shared glance.

“She’s in the hospital,” Emmy finally says.

Everything stops. My chest hollows out as icy panic rips through me so fast it leaves nothing but adrenaline in its wake.

The words are calm, too calm, when I ask, “What happened?”

“Maybe she should tell you that,” Madison pipes in.

“Where is she?”

Emmy pulls off her rubber gloves. “Julian, she’s not herself right now. She’s a mess, and she’s drugged up.”

My jaw tightens until it aches. Dark scenarios fire through my head, each one worse than the last .

“Where. Is. She?”

Madison studies me over the rim of her glass. “You know, she doesn’t usually want company when she’s like this.”

“Especially from men who—” Emmy starts, then cuts herself off when Madison shoots her a look.

I take a sharp breath, done with this game they’re playing. “Here’s the thing. I will find out which hospital she’s in. You can make that easier, or you can waste my time. I want eyes on her. My eyes.”

The air holds for a beat as another silent conversation passes between them.

Madison finally shrugs. “Think he passed?”

“Yeah,” Emmy says, just as casually.

I blink once before a laugh breaks out of me, more disbelief than humor. “Jesus Christ. You were testing me?”

Madison meets my stare. “She’s our best friend. She’s going to kill us for telling you. We needed to make sure you were worth it.”

A muscle ticks hard in my jaw.

I’m one second from walking out to track Celeste down myself when Emmy’s expression softens and she rests a hand on my arm. “She’s at Cedars-Sinai.”

“Thank you.” A breath of relief whooshes out of me, but it’s not enough. I need to see her.

I’m at the door when Emmy calls, “Julian?”

I turn but keep my grip tight on the handle.

“Be careful with her,” she says, all softness now. “She acts tough, but she bruises easily.”

My throat pulls tight, but I nod once before I’m gone.