Page 57 of Denying Davis
“That’s what it says in the article. Almost ninety.” Howell let out a low whistle. “He was one of the most successful men on the island, considering he built Armstrong International. He started in the mailroom of Seven Hills Steel, bought it outright in his thirties, and expanded from there. I had no idea he was self-made.”
“Me neither.”
It was a good enough answer, but my mind had already floated a thousand miles away. I was thinking about all the moments I’d had with Davis, and last time I saw his grandfather. Senior had been so angry. Firm. Dismissive of me.
Now, Davis Armstrong III was one of the youngest billionaires in the world. And just hours ago, he’d tried to offer me his heart.
“Anyway”—Howell rapped the lip of the reception desk, and my attention snapped back to him—“it says they’ll have more about it on the eleven o’clock news. I’m going to head up to my apartment.”
“Of course,” I said, another hollow response to the news. The shock of his death was so strong I wavered between throwing up and bursting into tears. I didn’t know what to think. Was I sad for Davis? Upset for my mom? Confused about what would happen next? I couldn’t place any of my feelings.
“Um…good…goodnight, Mr. McDougal.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
He shuffled across the lobby and up the wide staircase, gripping the wrought-iron railing as he went. When I was alone again, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Energy and adrenaline pulsed through me. I took a quick glance around the large, empty room.
And then I broke down.
With a sob, I fished my iPhone from the bottom of my purse and turned it on for the first time in half a day. I was beyond caring about the rules I’d set for myself—rules were meant to be broken anyway. All I could think about was Davis. His father was dead, and now his grandfather too. He was alone, and right before Christmas.
I wanted to talk to him. Figure out what was going to happen next.Even though he’d caused my heart to break today, he might need a friend.
And when I opened the app, I found a message from him.
I didn’t set up a fraudulent account. Please forgive me. I can’t do life without you.
A few other messages from him waited for me. I didn’t bother to read them—those words didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was what I’d say to him now, considering the loss he’d just experienced.
Me:I’m sorry I haven’t replied to you. I was shocked and upset. I just heard what happened to your grandfather, and I’m so sorry. He was important in your life, and I know this is a huge loss. I’m so sorry. Let me know if there is anything I can do.
I gulped a lungful of air and hit send. It was a shot in the air, a virtual flare signal I hoped he’d respond to. Perhaps we did have a chance, and this was it.
I don’t want to do life without you either, Davis.
After a few minutes with no answer, I put down the phone and sank into the creaky chair behind the desk. Maybe he wasn’t going to reply. Maybe he didn’t want to hear from me—I really couldn’t blame him for that.
I twisted toward the computer and opened the browser that showed me the various security cameras around the building. I needed to get back to work, needed to refocus on the tasks required of me at Royal Palm. The residents counted on me for security, and I needed to provide it.
Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths.
I clicked though the footage of the last few minutes, looking to see if the video had caught anything suspicious while I hadn’t been paying attention. Luckily, it had not. I breathed a few easy sighs.
The phone buzzed on the desk beside me. I grabbed it and turned it over.
Davis:Please come over when you can tonight. I don’t know if you are working or not. I don’t care what time it is. Just come to the house. I must talk to you, Sam. We need to talk tonight.
I must have read the message five times before I typed out the reply.
Me:Of course, whatever you want. I’ll be there. I get off work at midnight. See you then.
By the time I got to Davis’s house, I’d thought about that text message no less than a thousand times. I’d run it over and over in my mind, and it had dominated the remainder of my shift.
I pulled into the mansion driveway a little before one, parked the car, and gave myself a quick glance in the mirror. Not the best, but not the worst. Not that it really mattered at that moment. I kept thinking about Davis. Maybe we’d be able to figure this all out. Maybe we wouldn’t.
And what about the fraudulent bank account? What’s he going to say about that?
He stood at the doorway to the kitchen, waiting for me. I walked up the garden path tentatively, unsure of what to say. Thank God, he spoke first.
