Page 101 of Crave Me
I dump everything in the trashcan except for the container of fruit that was spared, using some old napkins I find in my purse to dry off my hands.
“Miss O’Brien, are you all right?”
The new marketing intern hurries over. “Hey, N’ivel.”
“Looks like you lost your breakfast.”
“I actually lost Evan’s breakfast,” I say, fumbling with my words and pulling a twenty from my wallet. “Do me a favor? Go down to Sorrentino’s Coffee House and get me an egg white sandwich with blue cheese crumbles and spinach, and a large Americano with a splash of half and half.”
He types away on his phone. “Got it. Anything else?”
“No. That’s all, thank you.”
I can’t even pretend to smile, hurrying toward the elevator when I realize how bad my voice is shaking.
A few members of Evan’s tech team pile out.
“Hey, Wren.”
“Hi, Wren.”
“How’s it going?”
“Hey,” I say, keeping my head down.
I fall against the wall when the doors shut, cursing out loud. Technically, Bryant didn’t do or say anything I can use against him. Again. But the encounter shook me up all the same. He mentioned Evan. I’m not surprised he knows I’m with him. If he’s still following me, he was bound to see us together.
Shit. As much as Evan can take care of himself, I want to spare him from all of this. “Top level, Wren?” Alfred asks, the device Evan gave me to keep in my purse alerting the system of my presence.
I sigh, realizing I never hit the button to the 50th floor and taking comfort in his techno voice. “Yes, Alfred.”
The elevator zooms up without stopping. I push away from the wall when the doors part, wrestling with whether to call Curran again or speak to Evan first. My pace slows when I find John sitting at my desk, eating a bagel. He hurries to stand when he sees me, wiping the cream cheese caked on his fingers on his lab coat.
“Aren’t you and your top guys supposed to be meeting with Evan?” I ask.
I snag a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the corner and pass it to him when he seems to struggle to swallow. He takes several gulps, and a few more before he speaks. “Thank you,” he says, appearing more frantic than usual. “Something happened. To Evan.”
“What?”
He grabs my hand when I launch forward. “Sorry,” he says, pulling away as if afraid to touch me. “But, Wren, it’s very bad I’m afraid. I’ve never seen him like this.” He inches close, keeping his voice low. “I think it’s the company.”
“The company?” I repeat.
He nods, causing the strands of his disheveled hair to bounce in place. “Something horrible has happened.” He shakes his head. “I’ve never seen him so defeated.”
“Defeated?” I ask. His nod sends me into a panic. That word has no place being so close to Evan.
“I have to go,” I tell him. I throw my purse across the desk, and place the stupid container of fruit on the cabinet and jet toward Evan’s door, pausing when I realize John is watching me.
“Let me know if I can help,” he says. “Whatever he needs, I’ll do it—We’ll do it. Let him know we’re here for him.”
“I will,” I promise. I want to assure him that Evan is fine and not to worry, but I’m so out of my mind, I run into his office, stopping short when I find the room veiled in darkness.
“Evan?” I say, scanning the area as my eyes adjust.
One of the first things he does every morning is order Alfred to open the shades. This morning, for our privacy, he left them closed.
I glance in the direction of the conference table, walking toward the screening area as the door falls closed behind me. Considering what John said, I half-expect to find Evan sprawled across the long leather couch.