Page 90 of Mr. Wilde

“I’ll recalibrate, Captain.”

He gives me a rare, fleeting grin before disappearing back into his own sketchbook.

Sebastian, Dr. Lee to the rest of the world, but Bas here, walks out behind Austin, carrying a squirming, laughing Rowan.

“I believe this wild thing belongs to you,” Sebastian says, handing the toddler I’m babysitting over to me.

I tuck Rowan against my hip, my heart softening instantly. This child is absolutely beautiful. He has a thick head of dark hair and big, soulful blue eyes that seem to see right through me. As I ruffle his hair, a sharp, unbidden image of Max flashes through my mind. The same dark hair. The same piercing intensity. I push the thought away before it can take root. I miss him. Yet, I’ve worked too hard on this version of myself to let a man with a hot and cold personality bring me any more heartache.

“You okay, Cassidy?” Sebastian asks gently.

“Better than okay,” I say, kissing the top of Rowan’s head. “I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Max

I’ve been sitting in this same leather armchair for three hours, my laptop glowing in front of me. Every time the service door swings open, my head snaps up, scanning for a flash of blonde.

But it’s never her. It’s Fern, looking stressed. It’s a new girl I don’t recognize. It’s anyone but Cassidy.

It’s been a week since she left that note for me, solving that phone forensic riddle. I’ve returned day after day, hoping to catch sight of her. Perhaps the scare on the news with the blonde had caused me to panic. I just needed to see she was okay so I could go on about my day.

I thought giving her space was the logical thing to do after my trip to visit my parents. So she wouldn’t fall prey to my wrath. Yet, sitting here in the dark, I realize it was a mistake. She was vulnerable with me. Shared her trauma. I should’ve done the same.

Loretta had been right. I should’ve reached back out to a counselor years ago when visits to my parents induced a downward spiral. As soon as I could identify the misplaced guilt over not finding Isla. Better late than never. I’m not really a talk about your feelings kind of guy. But if it helps me become the man Cass deserves, I’ll go to sessions daily.

Movement near the bar catches my eye. A man is standing there, talking to Gianni. He’s massive with broad shoulders and a posture that screams military or first responder. He doesn’t look as if he belongs in a suit. Wait… I know that guy.

It’s Holt. Her brother.

I snap my laptop closed and stand. Weaving through the crowd, my eyes lock on him. If he’s here, she’s here. She has to be.

“Holt,” I greet, stopping a few feet away.

He turns, and the look in his eyes isn’t what I expected. It’s a cold, hard wall. He looks me up and down, his jaw working as he apparently recognizes me.

“Max, right?” He confirms my suspicion, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the music.

“Is Cassidy sick?” I don’t waste time with pleasantries. “She hasn’t been here in a while. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.” Yeah, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

Holt lets out a short, jagged bark of a laugh that has zero humor in it. He steps closer, invading my personal space, his height making the overhead lights cast a shadow over my face.

“She’s not here. Cassidy doesn’t work here anymore,” he adds, each word hitting like a physical strike. “Which you would know if you two had a better relationship.” His words cut through me like a knife.

Cassidy doesn’t work here anymore.

Suddenly, my chest begins to ache. She’d said she lived here. “Where is she?”

“Somewhere safe,” Holt answers in a biting tone, his eyes narrowing. “She’s getting her life back on track. And as far as I can see, if she didn’t feel it was important to share where she was headed, that life doesn’t have room in it for you.” He turns to walk away, but I reach out, catching his arm. It’s a mistake. He bristles instantly, and for a second, I think Gianni’s security team is about to witness a very public beatdown.

“Holt, wait,” I rasp, my composure cracking. “I fucked up. I know that. I’m working hard to fix it. Just tell me she’s okay.”

Holt looks down at my hand on his sleeve, then back at my face. Some of the red-hot anger fades, replaced by a weary kind of pity. “My sister is stronger than you think. But she deserves someone who appreciates how incredible she is. I couldn’t care less how much money you have or what type of company you own. Don’t waste her time unless you’re going to treat her right.”

I fight the urge to drink my sorrows away and head back over to the VIP section, where my friends from the Billionaire Boys Club are waiting. Each of them is staring at me as I approach. What the hell? Is this some sort of an intervention?

Lala flutters around, depositing tumblers of scotch and a humidor of cigars in the center of the table. Becket, Derek, Devon, and Ben are all here.

“Where’s Brodie?” I ask feeling on edge, shaking each of their hands, hoping I’m wrong.