Page 171 of The Contract

“Then I’m going to bury them both.”

The entire way to Damien’s office, I nearly picked the skin around my nail until it bled. The elevator ride to the seventieth floor is taking a century as I watch the monitor count each floor.

Sixty-fifth, sixty-sixth, sixty-seventh, sixty-eighth, sixty-ninth?—

Until finally, the elevator doors open with a gentle ding.

The receptionist desk is being supervised by a new woman. Much older than Vanessa, with a very stern expression.

“Excuse me, I need to see Dam—Mr. Wolfe. It’s urgent.”

She looks me up and down, her prune lips never extending into anything warm. It’s right now that I realize what I must look like—jeans and a dark shirt, windblown hair, and a bruise likely forming on my cheek.

“Mr. Wolfe is unavailable.”

My heart is hammering in my chest, and my face is burning from the anxiety of feeling like I’m too late to fix this.

“I’m his fiancée. Elena.” My face must drip with desperation because after a pause, she exhales, typing something into her computer.

“There is no fiancée on record for Mr. Wolfe’s personal contacts. I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She looks just to the side of me and nods to someone in the distance.

I glance behind me, and my stomach vaults. It’s a fucking security guard.

“Please, if you could just call—” I reach for my purse, forgetting I didn’t bring anything to the coffee shop with me. After the encounter with Adrian, I just got into the town car and headed here. I have nothing. No phone. No identification. And no fucking hope, apparently.

“Escort this woman from the building,” she instructs the guard, turning back to her computer. I hate this fucking woman.

I know she’s just doing her job. But I’m so fucking close and still a goddamn mile away.

My mind swims with a million thoughts.

Down the corridor, I can see Damien’s office door is open.

Does that mean he’s not in there? Or maybe he is, and he’ll hear me.

If I start yelling, it would likely result in my being handcuffed, and this security guard is getting more antsy by the second.

Tears begin to sting my eyes, not knowing what else to do.

I don’t even know Damien’s number to try and call him. But there is one number I know.

As soon as the thought rushes into my mind, it pushes everything else out.

My breathing is ragged as I push back the tears that want to fall. I cough to clear the vise that is closing around my throat.

“Could I just use your phone? I lost mine, and I have no way to call anyone.” My shoulders drop in defeat, and I know I look pathetic. “Please.”

The tears come back. My chin quivers, and I feel fucking helpless.

The receptionist just stares back at me, her mouth set in a thin line, a crease between her eyes.

I don’t look away, and I clasp my hands in front of me to try and stop myself from bolting toward Damien’s open office door.

Just when I think she’s going to tell the guard to take me?—

“Make it quick.”

She turns a black phone to me, and I pick up the receiver. My trembling fingers pause before I begin dialing the number.

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