Chapter 101

Chapter 101

Quinton cursed under his breath and tugged at the collar of his shirt. Even without a tie and the first button open as usual, he still felt as though he had a noose around his neck, threatening to cut off his air supply.

Logically, he knew it was all in his mind. Quinton wasn’t being choked physically; it was all the emotions he was struggling to keep a lid on that were clogging up his throat. It seemed even running his business couldn’t help him keep the thoughts away.

Tapping his pen on the desk absently, he stared at the glass walls that usually relaxed him with the beautiful view of the city. This time, it felt like the steel bars of a cage.

His laptop sat open on his desk, untouched. Reports blurred together. Numbers meant nothing. All he could see was Neema’s face when she’d told him she needed space. The way her voice had shaken. The way she hadn’t looked back as she left with her overnight bag. That had been more than twenty-four hours ago.

Dropping the pen, Quinton dragged a hand down his face and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. It didn’t.

He was still in this position when the door flew open without a knock.

“Okay,” Vanessa said, marching in, her heels sharp against the floor. “What did you do?”

Quinton groaned. “Not now.”

She shut the door behind her and crossed her arms. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

“I’m not in the mood, Vanessa.”

She stepped closer, eyes flashing. “Well, tough luck. I’m in the mood. What the hell, Quinton? How do you lose the woman in a matter of weeks?”

Quinton’s jaw clenched. Hard. Slowly, he looked at her. Really looked. His sister’s jaw was set, her eyes fierce in the way that meant she wasn’t leaving without blood or truth.

“She left,” Vanessa continued. “Packed a bag. Walked out. Do you have any idea how miserable you’ll be if you lose her for good?”

“I made a mistake,” he snapped. “I already said I was wrong.”

“And?”

“And she still left.”

The words tasted bitter. He stood, no longer able to stay still, not when rage coursed through his blood. He was angry at himself, at Jerome, hell, at this point, he was angry with Neema. Quinton paced behind his desk like a trapped animal. “I lost control. I went after Jerome. I thought…” He stopped himself, fists clenching. “I thought I was protecting her.”

Vanessa sighed, rubbing her forehead. “You can’t protect someone by becoming the thing they fear.”

“She said she needed space.”

“And what do you think that means?” Vanessa asked in the same tone as a teacher asked a pupil who was refusing to use their head.

“That she’s done,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.

“Or,” Vanessa said pointedly. “That she needs you to use your head and win her back.”

He laughed without humor. “Great. How? Flowers? Jewelry? A radio station dedication?”

Vanessa tilted her head and tapped a manicured nail against her chin. “Radio dedication could be cute.”

“No.” Quinton had only been half joking. Did people still listen to the radio even?

His sister huffed. “Okay, fine. Gifts?”

Quinton grimaced. “She’s not that kind of woman.”

“Public apology?”

“She hates public drama.”

Vanessa huffed. “You’re impossible.”

Quinton nearly laughed. “Welcome to my problem. So, tell me, sis, what do I do?”

Vanessa didn’t answer immediately. They stood there in silence for a moment. Then she snapped her fingers. “Jerome.”

Quinton stiffened. He felt a fresh wave of anger wash over him just at the mention of the man’s name. Fuck! He wished he had knocked Jerome out cold. Or shot him. Either option would have guaranteed the man was behind bars now, and even though Neema would still have been upset, at least she would have been safe, and Quinton wouldn’t have to worry about Jerome finding her while she had no security detail.

“Find him. Hand him over to the police. Wrapped in a neat little bow,” Vanessa said with a flurish wave of her hand in the air, as though what she was suggesting was that simple. “That’s your grand gesture.”

His jaw tightened. “I already tried.” Yeah, he had already thought of that.

She blinked, clearly surprised. “Tried how?”

He didn’t answer.

Vanessa narrowed her eyes. “Quinton.”

“I used… Other routes,” he admitted quietly. “My guy who found Jerome once. Unfortunately, he can’t pull the same magic trick twice. Jerome has vanished. Again.”

Vanessa stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Then she threw her hands up. “Fantastic. So you scared Neema, broke the law, and still didn’t finish the job.”

“I was doing it for her.”

“That’s not the point!” She took a breath, clearly trying not to scream. Then she looked at him and softened just a little. “Then do the last thing,” she said.

Quinton arched a brow. “What would that be?” God, he hoped his sister didn’t hear the desperation in his voice, but from the way the corner of her lips twitched, he suspected she hadn’t missed it.

Still, she answered, “Fall on your knees and beg.”

He scoffed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Quinton stared at the floor. Pride twisted inside him. Fear followed close behind. A large part of him wanted to say no. He’d already done more for this woman than he’d ever thought he could do for a woman. Wasn’t it time she met him halfway instead of expecting him to beg her?

“I’ll do it,” he said suddenly, straightening. “Whatever it takes.” Because he remembered pride wouldn’t do anything but leave him in this spiral of frustration and anger.

Vanessa blinked, surprised. “You will?” She sounded skeptical despite it being her idea.

He grabbed his jacket. “I’m not losing her.”

And with that, he walked out.