three years she’d worked for him, he’d never done such a thing. ‘Where’s Katrina?’
‘She left.’
‘What do you mean she left?’ Alex roared, his insides contracting on a wave of frustration.
Justine blinked up at him. ‘Well, she came out and said goodbye, and then she left.’
The words hit Alex in the centre of his back as he left the room and began sprinting down the corridor towards the lift. By the time it offloaded him in the vast foyer on the ground floor, there was no sign of her.
He raced to the exit and lost precious seconds waiting for the glass doors to slide open. Like the lift, they appeared to be moving in slow motion.
Out on the pavement, Alex looked left and right, then scanned the other side of the road.
There was no sign of Katrina.
Alex swore, astounded Katrina had run out on him for a second time. People just didn’t do that to him.
Alex returned inside, stopping beside the security guard standing inside the doorway. His name tag read David Greenway.
‘David, did you see an attractive woman come through here a few minutes ago? She has caramel-blonde hair and green eyes. She was wearing a black leather jacket. You couldn’t miss her.’
David Greenway’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. ‘I’m sorry, sir. We get a lot of people through here.’
Alex clamped his teeth so tightly together he thought they might shatter. He was about to turn away when he thought of something. ‘She was carrying a baby in a cot.’
‘Ah.’ The security guard nodded eagerly. ‘Yes, I remember her now.’
‘Did you see which way she went?’
David nodded. ‘She flagged down a taxi virtually right outside the door.’
‘Damn.’ Alex stared down at the tips of his shiny black shoes and then up again. ‘Did you see what company?’
‘As it happens, I did. It was Lime Taxis.’
‘Well done, David. Well done,’ Alex said, patting him on the shoulder and hurrying away.
Back in his office Alex pressed the speed-dial button for the Royce Agency, the private-detective firm he’d engaged on numerous occasions to do background checks on prospective employees and upgrade the security in his homes and offices.
He’d also engaged the agency to find Katrina. It was the first time the outfit had failed him, which was why they had continued to search for her free of charge.
He was put through to Royce, the owner, straight away.
Briefly and concisely, Alex outlined what had happened.
‘Lime Taxis, you said?’ Royce confirmed. ‘The information is going to cost you.’
‘I don’t care how much it costs,’ Alex grated. ‘Find her.’
He’d spent seven months kicking his heels, wondering where Katrina was and what she was doing.
His interest hadn’t been in the least personal, of course. The minute he’d discovered she was trying to foist another man’s child on him, he’d known their relationship was over. But he had felt it wise to keep an eye on her so that the situation didn’t explode in his face.
But Katrina had hidden herself well. He had no intention of letting the same thing happen again; he wanted the experts on the job while her trail was still hot.
‘OK,’ Royce said. ‘I’ll call you back as soon as I have the information.’
‘Make it fast.’
Alex paced his office like an animal trapped in a much-too-small cage. When his mobile phone rang, Alex almost broke the thing in his eagerness to answer. ‘Royce?’
Royce got straight to the point. ‘The taxi dropped her off at an apartment in Waverton. Here’s the address.’
Alex scribbled the information down on his notepad. Before ending the call, he said, ‘I want you to send someone over to the apartment to watch Katrina. They are not to let her out of their sight. I want to know where she goes and who she sees. And I want a report on who she’s staying with. Got it?’
Alex didn’t wait for a reply. Despite the fact Royce and his people had failed to find Katrina, they were still good operatives. The best, in fact. He had no doubt his request was already spinning into action.
Ripping the page from his notepad, Alex shoved it in his pocket and left the office.
‘I’m going to be out for the rest of the day,’ he said, striding past Justine’s desk without pause.
‘But you have appointments all afternoon,’ Justine called after him.
‘Cancel them,’ Alex flung over his shoulder. ‘I have more important things to attend to!’
Katrina was scrubbing the stove top when the doorbell rang. There was something therapeutic about making the white enamel gleam. She always cleaned when she was upset or had some serious thinking to do. And right at this moment she could tick the box against both of those things.
The doorbell pealed again.
‘Coming,’ she called, dropping her cloth then pulling off her green rubber-gloves and flinging them down on the edge of the kitchen sink.
Hurrying to the door, she pulled it open.
She was quite unprepared to find Alex standing on the doorstep.
For one stunned second all she could do was gape up at him like a stranded fish. Then she dragged in a breath, regathered her wits and tried to slam the door in his face.
She was too late.
An expensive black leather shoe wedged itself between the door and the jamb. Then a strong, longfingered hand curled around the edge of the door and began pushing it open.
Katrina leant against it with all her weight, but it was useless. She was no match for Alex’s size and strength. It was like an ant trying to push over an elephant.
Recognising that she was wasting her time, Katrina stepped away from the door so fast that Alex practically fell into the apartment.
After staring at her long and hard, he looked around.
‘You live here?’
The slight emphasis he’d given the last word managed to convey exactly what he thought of the apartment. Her hackles, which were already sticking up like the needles on a porcupine after their earlier meeting, bristled some more.
Katrina followed his gaze. She had to admit the carpet needed replacing. It was threadbare in places and stained in others. The walls were also long overdue for a coat of paint.
Peter had apologized for the condition of the unit, but he’d over-extended himself when he’d bought it and was struggling to meet the mortgage repayments.
Katrina had jokingly said it was OK because it didn’t show up her furniture. It would be generous to call her stuff ‘second hand’. She was probably its third or fourth owner, each piece displaying a series of dents and scratches from each of its previous lives.
But so what?
If he looked hard enough, Alex would notice what was really important. And that was that she kept the place immaculately clean and tidy.
She tossed her head, angled her chin into the air and said coolly, ‘Yes, this is where I live. Sorry if it’s not up to your high standards, but we can’t all be as rich as you. What are you doing here, Alex? How did you find me?’
‘I’m here because you ran out on me before we finished our conversation,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘As to finding you, that was easy. You were seen getting