Chapter 4

Peter woke up the next morning feeling extremely antsy. At first he thought it was just the hangover, but the feeling didn’t go away after he fixed his hangover with some greasy food. If anything, the more time passed, the worse his anxiety got.

He didn’t fucking do anxiety.

It wasn’t normal.

Peter could no longer deny that something was wrong. He could no longer ignore the itch under his skin, an itch to be elsewhere, go somewhere. And as much as he hated admitting being wrong—and as much as he scoffed at the idea of being affected by that bullshit spell—he could no longer deny that he did seem to be affected by it.

He had a soulmate.

The mere thought made him cringe. Damn it, it was ridiculous for a grown man to even consider nonsense like that. But Peter was a realist. As a lawyer, he liked facts. And the facts spoke for themselves. He’d been seemingly unaffected until Saturday evening. His soulmate must have been close enough for him not to feel the pull toward them—which meant they had been in the same building all week.

He could find out how many people had been in the building the previous day easily enough. He had contacts. But why make an effort when he had his personal associate to do the grunt work?

Besides, he hadn’t spoken to Justin since yesterday. It was... strange. He was used to brainstorming ideas with him all the time. His associate was excellent for that kind of thing. And his arguments didn’t annoy Peter even when he was wrong. That was rare. Most people were annoying even when they were right.

“No,” Justin said as he picked up. “It’s Sunday, Peter.”

“It’s an emergency,” Peter said, slipping into a shirt and buttoning it up with one hand.

“It always is,” Justin said before sighing. “What sort of emergency?”

“I need you to research something for me. Find out how many people work in this building—and which of them aren’t here today.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Watch your language. I’m still your boss.”

“Not on Sunday.”

“Even on Sunday. I expect a report within the hour.”

“What? Fuck off! You can’t seriously expect me to—”

Peter hung up, knowing that for all Justin’s bitching, he’d do as he was told. He always did. He was the only person Peter could always rely on.

Once again, Peter wondered if he should give his associate a Christmas gift. It felt… right. Justin’s efficiency and loyalty should be rewarded. Last year Peter hadn’t given him anything, even though he’d kind of wanted to.

Hmm… Maybe he could gift him a couple of spare suits, to put in Peter’s closet. Justin often needed to change after his all-nighters.

By the time Justin called him, Peter felt very pleased with himself. He’d managed to purchase five designer suits for Justin despite the short notice. The number of suits might seem a bit excessive, but they weren’t bespoke, so some of them might not fit as well as they should. Never let it be said that Peter wasn’t a thoughtful boss.

“You’re late,” Peter said, glancing at his watch. It had been an hour and two minutes.

“And you’re a giant dick. Do you know I can be sued for stalking for this?”

“Stop whining and talk.”

“Why do you need this information, seriously? If I’m going to get sued, I’d like to know why.”

“None of your business,” Peter said. “You’re trying my patience, Justin.”

Justin sighed. “Fine. There are approximately sixteen thousand people who live or work in the building. They mostly work, though. There are four residential floors, including your penthouse, but the other floors are taken by various firms, including Hayes and Turner. You’re very lucky I know a guy in security, who was able to help me out—and now I owe him a huge favor, by the way. He said that there are only two hundred and twelve people still there, including you.”

Damn it. Sixteen thousand people. It didn’t really narrow it down much.

“Now will you tell me what the hell is going on?”

“No. Have you seen your brother yet?”

“I’ll pick him up from the airport in a few hours. It’s still early. Why?”

Peter had to literally bite his tongue to stop himself from ordering his associate to come back to work. The little shit would never let him live it down.

“Nothing,” he said tersely and hung up.

He stared unseeingly out the window, wondering why he’d even wanted Justin to come. They didn’t really have a difficult case that required them to work on Sunday. Surely he wasn’t being a horrible boss for the sake of being a horrible boss? He wasn’t that cruel. Or was he?

Shaking his head, Peter forced himself to think about the more pressing issue: his soulmate. Then again, was it really pressing? He could just ignore the issue altogether. The spell would supposedly last just another week. After a week, this dissatisfied itch under his skin would be gone. He would be back to normal.

Just a week.

He could do it.