The Bravo Billionaire Part 14

Chapter 12.

J onas called Emma at PetRitz twice the next day. Once in the morning and once in the early afternoon. She didn't answer her phone either time. He ended up talking to Pixie, who told him, both times, that Emma was busy and couldn't come to the phone right then.

"Busy doing what?" he demanded on the second call."Well, she didn't tell me that. She just said to tell you that she was busy.""Just busy.""That's right. I'd be glad to give her a message for you, Jonas.""No, thank you, Pixie," he replied, thinking that he was the one getting the message here. And the message was, if he wanted to talk to his wife, he'd better think of some other way to do it than by phone. He added, "I'll try again later," knowing he would do no such thing.

"Well, you just go ahead and do that," Pixie chirped out, sounding insolent enough to set his teeth on edge.

There wasn't a thing more to say right then, so he hung up.

He decided to give her cell phone a try. It rang for a long time, then a recorded voice picked up, told him that the customer was not available at the moment and invited him to leave a message.

He didn't.

It was barely seven when Jonas returned to Angel's Crest that evening. He'd gone ahead and rescheduled his dinner engagement with Ledger DelVecchio, an independent film producer, a fellow who always amused him and whose offbeat movies Jonas often backed.

Though he never made any real money doing it, Jonas frequently contributed to the arts, both as an investor and through outright donations. He supposed he had some of his mother in him, after all. Now and then it felt good to do a thing just because somebody with money had to do it or it wouldn't get done.

But Ledger would have to wait until tomorrow night. Tonight, Jonas wanted to get things straight with Emma. He had his driver drop him off at the side entrance nearest her rooms. He planned to make a few things crystal clear to his temporary wife. And after he had explained how things were going to be, he planned to ask her to have dinner with him.

Night before last they'd never managed to get around to dinner. He regretted that now. But he'd taken one look at her in that d.a.m.n demure little back dress, and all he could think about was getting it off of her.

And yes. All right. Maybe he shouldn't have walked out on her last night. He was willing, he'd realized today, to expend a little effort to keep Emma happy.

Because, on the whole, Emma kept him happy. In ways he'd never known a man could be happy. The woman was a find. In the end, he supposed, there was something to be said for sincerity for frankness and honesty, for giving a hundred percent.

Emma made love like that: sincerely, frankly, one hundred percent. After the past nine stimulating nights, Jonas had discovered he could actually imagine lasting out the whole year without becoming the least bit bored.

He only had to make it clear to her that heart-to-heart talks and staying the whole night in her bed were not part of the deal. He was willing to bend. A little. He'd spend more time with her clothed, if she wanted it that way. They'd share meals a few times a week.

He'd even take her out, if that would please her, though in his opinion, going out would be far more trouble than it could possibly be worth. Right now, the two of them were something of an item with the press. Which meant they'd probably be hounded unmercifully by reporters should they dare anything so outrageous as trying to share a meal in a restaurant.

Jonas climbed the servants' stairway to the second floor, telling himself that if Emma wanted a few nights on the town, she would have them. Because he was a fair man and he took care of the people who took care of him. And as exasperating as the woman could be now and then, Emma Lynn definitely knew how to take care of him.

He emerged from the stairwell into a side hall, strode down it and turned a corner to find himself at the door to Emma's suite. He reached for the door handle and then hesitated.

Strange. Every night, he went into her room without so much as a thought for knocking first.

But right now, he felt that that would be wrong. Rude. An invasion of her privacy.

Maybe it was the slowly sinking sun whose orange rays still glowed in the fan-lighted window at the far end of the hall. He never came to her when the sun was up. Daylight, somehow, seemed a time when he had no claim on her.

He shrugged. Whatever. And then he knocked.

And after that, he waited.

She didn't answer.

He called her name, "Emma," and knocked again.

Nothing.

It hadn't occurred to him that she might not be in her rooms. She had always been there, waiting, whenever he wanted her.

The absurdity of his a.s.sumption dawned on him then. He'd never before come to her at seven in the evening. This, as they say, was a whole new ball game. She might be anywhere including on the other side of the door, ignoring his knock.

He took hold of the door handle. It turned, so he pushed the door inward. "Emma," he said, "there's no need to be childish about-"

He cut himself off. She did not appear to be in the room.

He went in and quietly shut the door behind him. "Emma?"

No answer. He went into the dressing room and the bath, as well. No sign of her. Or of the dogs, for that matter. Or even of that sleepy-eyed black-and-white cat.

It came to him. Mandy's room. She'd taken the animals and gone to visit his sister.

Well all right, then. He'd seek her out there. That might work well, now he thought about it. If she remained irritated with him about last night, she would try not to let her feelings show around the sprite. She'd make an effort to be civil to him, and that would be a start. They could spend some time with Mandy, and then he could lead her away to say the things he meant to say.

He started for the door again and then paused near the foot of the black-skirted bed. Something wasn't right.

His gaze fell on the gilded black Empire table that served as a nightstand. Last night, there had been two framed pictures on that table, one of his mother and the Yorkies and Mandy. And one of a handsome, deeply tanned woman in a tight-fitting blue chambray s.h.i.+rt and Western-cut vest: the legendary Aunt Ca.s.s.

Neither picture was there now.

Jonas turned slowly, taking in every aspect of the large room. He found not one single item of Emma's in sight. No pictures, none of those little bits of bric-a-brac she had brought with her when she moved in, things like a saucer full of sh.e.l.ls she'd probably gathered on some beach somewhere and a three-inch figurine of a racc.o.o.n standing on its haunches, prehensile paws tucked under its chin, staring out at the world coyly through surprisingly lifelike black gla.s.s eyes.

Jonas spun on his heel and strode to the dressing room. He threw back the door to the walk-in closet.

Not a single, skimpy dayglow-colored dress. No leopard-skin pants, no peekaboo blouses, no rows of s.e.xy high-heeled shoes. Nothing. Empty. Just a faint, faraway echo of roses, the smell of her lingering, and that was all.

Jonas very carefully shut the closet door.

He was absolutely furious. He'd been willing to compromise, d.a.m.n it within reason, anyway. She should have given him a chance.

What the h.e.l.l kind of game did she think she was playing? She knew that they had to live together for the entire year. She had agreed that they would live together.

She had no right at all to move out on him. None. Zero. Zip. They were abiding by the terms of his mother's will and she was not going to be allowed to screw things up.

Now, he would have to go out and find her and drag her back where she belonged.

He strode to the door. Halfway down the hallway, he stopped.

He really was furious. Maybe too furious.

He needed to give himself a chance to cool off a little, before he went after his wayward wife.

So all right. First, he'd pay a visit to the sprite. Being around Mandy always soothed him. He'd see his little sister, listen to her childish laughter, let her boss him around for a while, and when he went after Emma, he'd be calmer.

Not so likely to wring her smooth white neck.

The door to the nursery stood open when he got there. And he knew. Before he went into the playroom, the bedroom, the nanny's room, the bathroom with its big white tub where Mandy liked to float her plastic boats...

He knew that she was gone.

He strode from one room to the next, charting the emptiness, telling himself to be calm, to think clearly, not to jump to conclusions.

But the past was alive in him, all of a sudden, gnawing at him from the inside, a rat with big, sharp b.l.o.o.d.y teeth, chewing its way out of his chest.

He dropped to the rocker in his sister's bedroom, let his head fall back, sucked in long, slow breaths through his nose.

This was not real. He refused to believe it. It simply could not be happening again. No one had broken in. It was impossible. This wasn't thirty years ago. Now, his men prowled the grounds. No intruder could get through twice to make his way in and to make good an escape.

His sister had not been stolen. He had not lost her. He had not failed in his duty to keep her safe. She would not vanish from his life as if she had never been. It could not be. He would not allow it. He would not- His mind spun to a stop.

He lifted his head, sat up straight, muttered one word. Her name.

"Emma."

Of course. Emma was behind this. She had not only run off when she had no right to do such a thing but she'd also dared to take his little sister with her.

Terror no longer gnawed away inside his chest. Now rage burned there.

He was furious all over again. More furious than ever.

At Emma.

Palmer chose that moment to appear in the doorway to the hall. "There you are, sir."

Jonas stood. "What is it, Palmer?"

"Sir, your driver told me you'd gone in by the side entrance." Palmer stepped into the room. He carried a legal-sized envelope in his right hand. He held it out. "Ms. Emma asked me to see that you got this the minute you arrived home."

Jonas took the envelope, tore it open and unfolded the note it contained.

Jonas, In your mother's will, it says that I get to choose where we live. I have decided that I choose my own house. I'm taking Mandy there, and her nanny, too. Poor Claudia. She's real upset. She thinks you're not going to be too happy about this. But I told her not to worry. I told her I knew exactly what I was doing. I told Palmer the same thing. And what could either of them say? After all, I am your wife and I ought to know what's okay with you and what's not. Right?

So we're waiting for you. At my house.

See you soon and don't forget your toothbrush, Emma "Is ... everything all right, sir?" Palmer asked. Jonas glanced up. The butler looked distinctly apprehensive.

"Everything's just fine," Jonas said. "This letter tells me all I need to know."

And it did. It told him where he had to go to get his hands on her.

"Have my driver bring my car back around to the front, will you please, Palmer?"

"Immediately, sir."

Chapter 13.

J onas descended on Emma's duplex at seven forty-seven . He beat on the door with his fist. When she didn't get there to open it fast enough for him, he started shouting.

"d.a.m.n you, Emma! Open this door!"

The Yorkies ran to the door and began barking at it frantically. Claudia came running down the hall. "It is him, Ms. Emma. It's Mr. Jonas. Ah, Dios mio..." She paused to make the sign of the cross and then to press her fingertips to her lips. "We are in big trouble now. He will kill us, I swear to you-"

"Now you just relax," Emma said, proud that none of the apprehension she felt came through in her voice. Jonas went on pounding and the Yorkies went on barking.

Emma took the nanny by the shoulders and turned her around so that she was facing the hall. "Go on. Go back to Mandy. She's probably scared out of her skin with all this racket going on."

"But Ms. Emma, we can't-"

"Emma! Now!" He pounded some more. The Yorkies yipped and ran in circles.

"Don't you worry, just go on along now." Emma gave Claudia a gentle push. The nanny scurried back the way she had come.

"Emma!" More pounding. It was a solid-core door, but it wouldn't hold up forever under such a brutal a.s.sault.

"Stop that!" she shouted back at him. "I am coming! I want to put the dogs out! Just you hold on!"

There was silence. The Yorkies had turned to stare at her, their big brown eyes saucer-wide behind the wispy fringes of brown fur that drooped from their foreheads.

She slapped her thigh with authority. "Bob. Ted. Come." They scampered behind her to the sliding gla.s.s door that opened onto the patio. "Out." They went through and she shut and latched the door. Then she marched back to her small entrance area, slid back the dead bolt and pulled the door wide.

He was standing on the other side and he did not look happy.

Well, she wasn't very happy with him, either. "I hope you know you've probably scared your baby sister clean into next Tuesday. And poor Claudia. She was callin' on her maker, speakin' in Spanish, drawin' the sign of the cross. Dear old Mrs. Cowley, who owns the other half of this duplex, has probably already called 911. And besides all that, you have stirred up my dogs."

He just looked at her, that burning look he could get now and then. Usually, he got that look when they were making love. She found it very arousing then. However, since there wasn't any lovemaking going on at the moment, the look made her more than a little bit nervous.

She moved back. "All right. Come in."

He stepped over her threshold. She shut the door behind him.

"I expect you to act like a civilized human being," she warned. "And the minute you throw something, you are out of here. Understand?"

He didn't bother to answer. His glance flicked over her living room and came back to settle on her. "Get your things. Get Mandy's things. And Claudia's. We are all going home.