Page 79 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

“She could sue you so hard.”

“Forget Sasha, I need the caller. We know the caller might work at Vossameer, but not necessarily.”

“You have hundreds of employees.”

“We know she’s a she.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s an assumption. Will you accept that?”

It’s when I’m walking home that inspiration strikes.

There was a charitable giving event at the beginning of the month where employees were asked to nominate charities for Vossameer to give to. Everybody got a nomination form. I head back to the office. It doesn’t take long to get the list. I want to see whether Sasha suggested the Ocean Waves sea turtle charity.

I look it up. No go. Sasha suggested the United Way.

Just for the hell of it, I go down the rest of the list, one hundred and eighty employees. One person did suggest Ocean Waves.

Lizzie Cooper.

I know I’ve heard the name. It takes me all of three minutes to put it together.

Turnip Truck.

My head spins. Could it be?

I think back to the burn of her gaze that first day.Maybe Mr. Amazing is being amazing elsewhere.

It’s her.

Something in me recognized her that first day. And then the next day, she’d seemed different. Clothes all wrong. Doltish attitude all wrong.

She was hiding. Hiding in plain sight.

You’re so oblivious.

God, I even stood there imagining that flip book I’d had as a child. The wrong outfits and shoes on the wrong people. Because she was all wrong.

Operator Seven.

She hid herself. Why?

I put in a call to her extension. A woman answers. “This is Amy.”

“I’m looking for Lizzie Cooper.”

“She’s not here,” she tells me. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“When will she be back?”

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, who is this?”

“It’s Mr. Drummond,” I say. “And I’m asking you to tell me what happened down there.”

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