FOK (Wall Street Royals) Page 9

  Chapter Twelve

  Dear Ms. Walsh,

  Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Wilson Danielson and I’m sure you don’t remember me, but we met at the recent benefit. There was no time to tell you how much I enjoyed your performance or how much it moved me. I’m not sure I mentioned it, but every summer I put together an ensemble to tour Europe. As it turns out, the gentleman I had lined up for first chair violin had an unfortunate accident and is tending to a broken arm. As a result, he is unable to join us this summer. I understand Juilliard has cancelled your summer school class and I can think of no one better to replace him than you.

  If you are interested, I have enclosed my business card as well as a tour schedule. I hope to hear from you soon as we have to leave as soon as possible. This has already put us behind schedule and we’re eager to get on the road.

  Yours,

  Wilson Danielson

  Celeste read the letter only once before picking up her phone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lance frowned at the dark penthouse greeting him later that evening. “Celeste?” He called, but there was no reply. He’d worked later than he’d planned. Right when he’d been packing up to leave early, Alex had knocked on his door, and she’d been out of sorts because she couldn’t find the files he needed her to summarize for a meeting he had scheduled in the morning.

  At first he’d thought it was a ruse to keep him in the office longer. He’d taken time earlier to show his new assistant where the files were, and he didn’t think she was so incompetent she’d have forgotten that quickly.

  As it turned out, the files weren’t where he’d last seen them and it’d taken far too long for them to finally locate the damn documents. By the time they were safe in Alex’s hand, he bid her a goodnight and left.

  Standing in his penthouse, he wondered if Celeste was pouting. She didn’t strike him as the pouting kind, but you never knew. He walked around the penthouse, not calling her name, just looking. It was possible she was sleeping. He had kept her awake for most of the weekend. He was tired, so he assumed she would be.

  But he didn’t find her sleeping anywhere.

  Now that he thought about it, it was peculiar she hadn’t sent a text or called him all day. He pulled his phone out. No missed calls or unread messages.

  Where was she?

  He dialed her number but his call went to voice mail, and he disconnected with a huff. Was she ignoring him? What was her problem? She knew he had to work. He was well off, sure, but he couldn’t take the day off just because.

  But she knew that. It had to be something else.

  Maybe she was sick. He sent her a text.

  At the penthouse and you’re not. Is there a problem? Are you sick?

  An hour later, she hadn’t replied, and he was growing more and more concerned. He punched another number in his phone.

  “Barbara,” he said when she picked up. “I’m looking for Celeste. Have you seen her?”

  “Yes, I saw her, I guess it was late this morning. She didn’t look good, and she told me she was exhausted and going to sleep.” Barbara didn’t sound worried and she’d both seen and talked with her recently. He needed to accept the fact he’d worn her out over the weekend.

  He groaned as the truth hit him. Fuck. How could he be such an idiot for not thinking of it sooner? Celeste hadn’t told him how long it’d been since she played with her last Dom or how often or intense they’d played. Regardless, if he had to guess, Celeste was going through subdrop. He didn’t like that she was withdrawing from him, but they could discuss that as well as his expectations for follow up after a scene later. Right this second, he needed to do everything in his power to help her through this.

  It would have been easier if she’d stayed at the penthouse, but he could take a hint. Whatever she was going through, her absence and silence spoke loud enough. She didn’t want him around at the moment, and for now, he’d respect her wishes.

  However, that didn’t mean he would leave her alone. He considered his options for less than two minutes before picking up his phone again.

  “Hello,” Lillian said. “Lance?”

  “Lillian,” he said, “Sorry to bother you at home, but I have a personal request.”

  “What can I do for you, Lance?”

  “It’s Celeste.”

  She sighed. “Of course it is. I don’t know why I even thought I needed to ask.”

  He decided not to let her snide remarks get to him. “I think she’s going through subdrop, and I’m hoping you can go by the estate in the morning to check on her.”

  “Oh, hell,” she said. “Tell me you didn’t -”

  “I can do without the commentary for now. Can you or can you not stop by the estate tomorrow?”

  “I’ll do it.” That she wasn’t happy about it she left unsaid, but Lance knew she’d rather not.

  “Thank you,” he said. “I owe you.”

  “I know you do,” she said and ended the call.

  He wanted to reach out to her again, either by text or phone, but he refrained. It would be for the best to allow her some space. For now anyway.

  The next morning, he had returned to his office for only minutes following his meeting when his phone rang. Checking the display, his heart skipped a beat.

  Lilian. Finally.

  “How is she?” He asked in leu of hello. Lillian should have called an hour ago, and with each passing second, he'd grown more and more concerned. Especially considering he’d sent two additional texts to Celeste that were still unanswered. One, he’d sent from the conference room after he cut his meeting short because he couldn’t concentrate. The other he sent when he woke up this morning and immediately checked his phone, desperate for a word or something to let him know she was okay, but found nothing.

  Even now there was only silence. “Lillian?” he asked because he realized she hadn’t answered.

  “There’s no good way to say this Lance.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “She’s not here.”

  “What do you mean, she’s not there?” Fucking hell. He knew he should have done something last night. Gone after her and made her talk to him. Instead he’d done little more than text her and now she was gone.

  “She’s not in her room or anywhere else in the house. Half of her clothes are gone along with her violin.”

  Her violin! She’d brought it to his penthouse. “Hold on,” he told Lillian. “Let me check on something.”

  The fact that she didn’t come back with a smart ass remark told him she was as worried as him. He tried to remember where he’d last seen Celeste with her violin. In the living room? It was there or in the bedroom.

  A quick sweep of the living room told him it wasn’t there. He went into the bedroom, hoping against hope that her violin would wait in the corner for her return. But after checking around the room and a careful look though the closet, he begrudgingly admitted there was no violin anywhere.

  “OK,” he said. “Go on.”

  “Barbara isn’t here, either. The housekeeper said she left about an hour ago. Didn’t say where she was going or when she’d be back.”

  “Would you mind waiting there until she returns and ask her? Normally, I’d take care of it myself, but I feel like I should be here in case Celeste comes back here.”

  Lillian was quiet, and he knew what she was thinking. “You’re going to stay at the penthouse, because there’s a chance she might go there? I can only think of one reason she would turn up at your penthouse. Tell me I’m wrong, Lance.”

  “I can’t do that because you’re right. The only reason she’d come to my penthouse is that she's already been here. And you’re smart enough to know that means I’ve fucked her. Although why you didn't realize that after I called you about her subdrop is beyond me. However, I don’t think for a second anything we did made her run off. It has to be something else.”

  “Have you called her family? Maybe someone there is sick, and s
he had to leave quickly and didn’t have time to let anyone know where she was going.”

  Lance covered his surprise that Lillian had said nothing further about him sleeping with Celeste. “I thought about that, but I didn’t want to call there until I had exhausted every possibility here. Didn’t want to cause anyone any undue stress.”

  “I see,” she said. “And I can certainly understand where you’re coming from. Let me give Isaac a call and let him know what I’m up to. I’ll stay here until Barbara gets back and then I’ll find out what she knows about Celeste’s whereabouts. I promise I’ll call you right away if I hear anything.”

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re really worried, aren’t you?”

  “She’s young and hasn’t been in the city all that long. Of course I’m worried. Who wouldn’t be?”

  “Please,” Lillian said, and he knew she was rolling her eyes at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You’re acting like you’re only interested in her because she’s young and might be in trouble. Is it that hard for you to admit you like somebody? Would doing so hurt you in some way? What’s your problem?”

  “She’s twenty-five years old, Lillian.”

  “And?”

  “And I’m forty-two.”

  “Oh, my God. You’re being completely honest about the age thing freaking you out.” Lillian took a deep breath. Lance swore if he listened loud enough, he could hear her thinking. “Okay, you and I need to discuss this age thing and why it bothers you so much. But not today when she’s missing, and you don’t know where she is. But know this, once you find her, you and I will sit down and have a talk.”

  Not for the first time, he wondered why Ty had allowed Lillian to leave him. She was such a smart and witty woman, not to mention attractive. Granted, she didn’t do a thing for him, mainly because he knew she was meant to be Ty’s. Even when their divorce was finalized years ago, he knew she would still be his. And if forced, she would agree.

  But right now he needed to find what happened to his little submissive. He said goodbye to Lillian and walked around the penthouse again. He couldn’t shake the feeling he’d missed something, though by this time he was certain he wasn’t going to run across her violin. There was something he’d overlooked, some clue, some sort of anything that would help him find out where she was. Whatever it was, he doubted it would end up being in his bedroom or living room.

  He walked in the kitchen to put away the dishes from the night before, which for him meant loading the dishwasher. He opened it, bowl in hand and saw he was right about missing something. Celeste had baked.

  Or that was his assumption based on what he saw in the dishwasher. Bowls, whisk, muffin pan, and measuring cups. She had baked nothing over the weekend. Whatever it was, she done it while he was in the office. He looked in the refrigerator and his pantry, but found nothing fresh made.

  Okay. Now he had to find out what made her leave and take what she’d baked with her.

  He had no fucking clue. It could be anything: a phone call, a text, probably not anyone knocking on his front door, but you never knew, and he wasn’t ready to rule out anything at this point.

  Where was his grandmother? That was another question he had. Not that she never went out this early in the morning, but it wasn’t normal. And the fact that she just happened to be gone the same time Celeste was, sounded all of his alarms.

  Yes, it could end up being totally coincidental.

  No, he didn’t think it would be.

  He was willing to bet Barbara knew something about what was going on. Was she staying away for that reason? So she wouldn’t have to face him and answer his questions?

  Lance took his phone and tried again to call Celeste. Unlike the last few times, it didn’t go to her voicemail, but a computer generated voice told him no one was available. He disconnected with a grunt and shoved a hand through his hair.

  For what had to be the two hundredth time, he thought back to the last few hours he’d spent with Celeste, but like the last one hundred and ninety-nine times, nothing stood out in his mind as out of the ordinary, odd, or even slightly off.

  He didn’t know where Celeste went, but when she came back, they were going to have a serious talk and then he was going to show her what happened to a submissive who ran off and didn’t tell her Dom where she was going and what she was thinking.

  “And most of all, who don’t return phone calls or texts,” he said, with an eye on his phone, tempted to throw it across the room. But on the off chance Celeste tried to get in touch with him, he thought better of it.

  And where the hell was his grandmother?

  He jumped when the phone rang. Not Celeste, but Lillian.

  “Tell me something,” he said to her.

  “Lance,” Lillian said, and he knew from the tone of her voice he wouldn't like anything that came out of her mouth.

  “Is Grandmother back?” he asked. It seemed the safer of the two questions he wanted to ask and the one whose answer more than likely wouldn’t have him wanting to punch holes in his walls.

  “Yes.” Lillian seemed relieved he started with the easier of the two questions. “She came in and we talked for a few minutes before she got tired and went to her room to nap.”

  “Where was she at? Did she say where she’s been?” He would have to talk to her the next time he went to the estate. He knew she usually traveled with Richard, and it wasn’t like she drove herself. But Lance didn’t like her being gone and not telling anyone.

  “Yes, she told me where she’s been.” She sighed. “And when you talk to her, I want you to know she thinks it’s a good idea and is behind Celeste all the way.”

  “She was with Celeste?” The bad feeling he’d had earlier was back. He’d known the two of them disappearing at the same time had to be connected somehow.

  “Yes, she was with Celeste until about two hours ago.”

  “What do you mean was with her? Did Barbara leave her somewhere?” His heart threatened to stop. “Celeste isn’t hurt, is she? She’s not in the hospital or anything, is she?”

  “No, I would have told you that right away.”

  Lance felt some tension leave his body. For now, she was safe and not hurt. It wasn’t a lot, but it was all he had at the moment.

  “What else do you know?” he asked. “There’s something you’re holding back. Tell me. Now.”

  “Celeste is on a flight headed to Europe. She’s going to be in Wilson Danielson’s traveling orchestra for the summer.”

  This time he did throw his phone across the room.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celeste put away her violin for the night, but like she had done every other night for the last three weeks, she checked to make sure her phone was still in the case. Assured it was safe and still off, she closed the case and looked around to see if there was anyone nearby she could walk to the hotel with.

  No one else had packed up yet. They were all sitting around and chatting. That was fine, she could walk by herself. She stepped outside and tried to remember the direction of their hotel. With the orchestra on the move so often, remembering where she lay her head at night could be a challenge. Not that she minded traveling. She loved it. The problem was she had no sense of direction at all.

  “Can I help you find something?” A deep American voice asked, and she spun around because for a second she thought it might be Lance.

  It wasn’t, of course. The man asking was devilishly handsome with blond hair and deep blue eyes. By his side and on his arm was an equally attractive blonde woman who shared the same eye color. Siblings, perhaps?

  She realized she must be gaping at him when he added, “I only asked because you seemed lost.”

  Right, the hotel. She gave him the name of the place they’d checked into only eight hours earlier. He smiled and pointed in the opposite direction of where she’d been looking. Now that he’d pointed it out, she could see the tall building rising behind
the trees.

  She thanked him and took off, headed in the right direction this time. And though she never turned around to check, she was almost positive she felt his eyes on her as she walked away. It was with a sigh of relief that she thanked the doorman who held the door open for her and walked inside to the safety of the hotel’s lobby.

  Wilson Danielson stood by the bar, chatting with a group of men. He nodded as she walked by and she returned the gesture with a smile. Surprisingly, he excused himself from the group and called after her.

  “Ms. Walsh,” he called, and she stopped and waited for him to catch up. “You played that solo exceptionally well tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Danielson.” She spoke with an ache in her heart. The piece she’d played tonight was the exact one she’d played for her audition with Lance all those weeks ago.

  “Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so.” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “After our performance tonight, the owner of a touring company based here in London approached me. I wanted to give you a heads up that they might contact you about joining them permanently. I know you’re slated to start Juilliard this fall, but surely you know there’s no need for you to go. You’re already an exceptional player.”

  “Thank you.” She must sound like an idiot repeating her thanks, but his words stunned her and she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “There’s no decision to make tonight,” he said with a soft smile. “And I apologize for what was clearly a shock. My only reason for telling you before they approached you was I didn’t want you to make a hasty decision. Take time to think it over. Even when they contact you, let them know you need time.”

  “I will, sir. Thank you again.”

  He nodded. “You’re a smart young woman and you have a beautiful gift. No matter what decision you make, you’re going to be fine. Now get on upstairs to your room. Just because we don’t have a performance tomorrow doesn’t mean we’re going to sit around and do nothing. Practice starts at eight sharp.”