Chapter 3

3

ELLA

He didn’t come back. Or call.

I lock the door and wave at Maddy, doing the same next door. “How was your day?”

“Long.” She sighs. “Yours?”

“It was okay.” I pause. “Someone left their wallet today.”

“Did they come back?”

“No, he didn’t. It was an hour ago, so hopefully he’s not frantically searching for it.”

Maddy tilts her head and slings her handbag higher on her shoulder. “He was in around eight?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you look for a business card or a number to call?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t looked.”

“You should call him,” she says.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

“He’s the one who left it. Besides, he might not remember where he left it.”

“What if there isn’t a number?”

She shrugs. “Hand it in to the police? See you tomorrow.”

I turn down the street to head home and ignore the wallet burning a hole through my bag. Should I have left it at the store? Maybe. But I don’t like the idea of leaving Oliver’s stuff there. It shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. It unsettles me that he’s missing something. How will he pay for anything?

“Lily, I hope you’re here!” I yell when I arrive home.

“In the kitchen.”

I burst through the door and dump my bag on the floor. “I need help.”

“Is there a body?”

A glance at the stove confirms Leo’s here, and I turn to Lily who’s relaxing on a barstool. “He left his wallet.” My voice cracks, which is a new low for me.

Get a hold of yourself. It’s just a wallet.

She drags a stool out for me and I collapse onto it. “Who did?”

“ He did .” I stress the words and widen my eyes dramatically.

“Business guy?” Leo asks, draining pasta water down the sink.

I nod desperately.

Lily gasps. “He came in?”

“He left his wallet. Lily, what do I do?”

“He didn’t come back for it?”

I reach for my bag on the floor and slam a hand on the bench when my stool wobbles. Unzipping it, I reach my hand in and snag the wallet, his brown one sitting beside my patent leather wallet.

I place it on the bench and watch it, waiting for something to happen. Not sure what.

“Is there a business card or a phone number?”

“Maddy said the same,” I mumble.

“You haven’t checked?” Lily glances at Leo and they share a look which I’m sure is filled with pity, but I don’t care. Oliver left his wallet and I don’t know what to do. “I’m gonna take your panicked look as a no.”

“I don’t want to invade his privacy.”

“Ella, you shove needles in his dick.”

“Only when he wants me to!” I screech. “And that’s different. He consents to it. Me going through his wallet because I feel like it isn’t the same.”

“All I meant was he trusts you in intimate areas. Checking his wallet for a way to contact him to return his cards is different from looking through his personal items because you can.”

“You think so?” I ask as Leo puts plates filled with pasta in front of us and sits beside Lily.

“Why don’t you hold on to it until tomorrow lunch, and if he hasn’t contacted you by then, you can see if there’s anything in there to help.”

“Okay.” That sounds like a good plan. A well thought out plan. I can do that.

“Now eat, and tell us what he got pierced today.”

I grin when I remember the jewellery I put in him. A dino secret only we know. “No piercings today, just a jewellery change.”

Lily pouts. “That’s nowhere near as interesting as you made it out to be.”

“You don’t know where.”

“Tell me,” she demands.

“No,” I say around a mouthful of pasta. “Secret.” And it’s going to stay that way.

The clock ticks to one o’clock, and he still hasn’t called the store.

What if he needs to buy groceries but can’t pay for them because I have his wallet? Or his driver’s licence. What if he’s pulled over and given a ticket for driving illegally?

It’s been a quiet day, so I could drop it off to him. If there’s a business card with the address. Do people use business cards anymore?

I duck into the back room and dig out his wallet again. The leather’s cool and smooth, and I flip it open to reveal his secrets.

The left holds his driver’s licence, a gorgeous photo with no grey through his hair, taken a few years ago according to the date. I prefer the grey at his temples. My forehead raises at his date of birth, but I bypass it quickly to the right, holding his cards. Visa, eftpos, and a business card at the bottom. I slip it out and brush a finger across his name.

“Well, shit.” Under his name is his job title. I knew he was a businessman because of his questionable, albeit delicious, clothing. But CEO of a company? What the fuck is he doing at my little piercing shop, letting me put a dinosaur barbell through his nipple? I don’t recognise the business name. A sales thing? I own my business, but it’s one shop…not whatever he does.

There isn’t a phone number on the business card, which is weird, only an email address, and what I’m assuming is the company address. Some place in the city.

Not close to the beach.

I know for a fact there are piercing stores in his area. Why does he come to me? A warm sensation spreads through my chest and heats my cheeks. And why isn’t there a phone number? Now I can’t call and tell him I have it. I’ll need to email.

But what if he doesn’t see the email in time? Or since he’s a fancy CEO, my email will probably go to his spam folder and he’ll never know I have his wallet.

I should go to the address. I don’t like the idea of him stressed or thinking someone stole from him. I’ve already stayed later than scheduled anyway and the late-night staff have started. Everything will be fine if I leave, and I’ll give the wallet to the receptionist I’m sure he has, and breathe easy knowing he has it.

His wallet goes in my bag and I grab my keys, check in with the staff before I leave them, and head to my car.

Destination: The city.

I avoid the city like the plague. It’s loud and there are always lots of people around, and yes, The Esplanade leads to a tourist beach, but the vibe’s different to the city. More relaxed. Less rushed.

And parking isn’t as hard or as stressful. Why have they blocked all the parking spots on the road? Does his building have a car park? Am I allowed to park there? Considering his business card’s embossed, I’m gonna go with no.

Finally, I find a parking building and pay a ridiculous amount of money to park there. The stench of petrol and rubbish assault my senses when I step out of the building, and I scrunch my nose. Been here five minutes and I already miss the smell of the sea.

The map tells me to turn left, so I head that way. What the map didn’t tell me was I’d have to walk up a hill. A steep hill with people rushing down it in business attire I have to dodge while clutching my bag.

When I reach the top, I’m panting and my bra’s damp. The one day I wear a bra and I sweat through it. Don’t even need a bra; there’s nothing to support, but I didn’t want everyone staring at my piercings. Not in the city.

I round the corner, and the map tells me I’ve reached my destination. “Should have just emailed him,” I mutter.

The building’s large, with revolving doors and looks like a hotel. Maybe it is. I push through the door and stumble out the other side. Why can I never time it right? Why can’t they use a normal push door? Is the goal to make people look stupid?

My sneakers squeak on the polished tiles as I aim for the lift. The card said floor fifteen. Will I need a scan card to get there?

The button lights up when I push it and the doors roll shut and my heart beats faster. I’m not expecting to see him, but what if he’s there? Or what if he doesn’t want me at his work? My mouth’s dry, and my breathing is loud in the empty lift.

I jolt when it stops.

The lift doors open, and I step tentatively into a reception area. There’s a seating area to the right and a hallway straight ahead with frosted glass doors along it.

“Can I help you?”

I cringe and jerk my head to the left where there’s a reception desk and a woman with blonde hair behind it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I didn’t notice you.”

She smiles at me and tilts her head, eyes catching on my earrings. “Oh, you must be Ella. You can go on in.”

“Huh?” Go where?

“His office. He said to send you straight in. Down the hall, last door on the left.” She points the directions and smiles at me.

How did he know I was coming? And how does she know what I look like? I smile at her, but it feels more like a grimace, and walk towards the office.

None of this makes sense.

Does he know I have his wallet? How? Has he spoken to his receptionist about me? Doesn’t explain how she knows what I looked like. There aren’t any photos of me on my website, and I barely use social media, which means he described me to her. Well enough that she recognised me.

My hands dampen and tremble. I reach the last frosted glass door on the left.

I knock.

“Come in,” a deep voice says.

I breathe deeply and turn the handle.