Unlocking my Boss’s Heart (Romance in Sweet Comedy #4)

16. Anton

Chapter sixteen

Anton

W hen Celia didn’t come to my office before the end of the day, I assumed she was busy. For the past few weeks, it had become routine to spend time with her during work, discussing everything from job-related issues to life outside the office. During those times, we kissed some.

I started to think she might be the missing piece in my life.

By the end of the day, I felt incomplete and out of sorts after not seeing her at all. On my way to the parking garage, I stopped by her desk, ignoring how it might look to anyone still working. Case files were stacked neatly on the corner, but her chair was empty.

When she didn’t reply to my texts, worry began to creep in. Could she have fallen ill? I checked with a colleague who confirmed seeing her earlier that day, but she’d left just before lunch and hadn’t returned.

That was over six hours ago. Her phone went straight to voicemail when I tried calling her.

Panic curled its icy fingers around my chest, making it difficult to breathe as I considered every worst-case scenario. Had she been hit by a taxi? The drivers were reckless, especially during rush hour.

I thought of her cousin, whose number I didn’t have. When Celia still didn’t answer, I drove to her apartment—cautioning myself not to overreact. I would probably get there and see that she was fine, then feel like an idiot for behaving like an overprotective boyfriend.

Boyfriend?

This was the first time I called myself that.

I tried to think logically at what might be going on. If she wasn’t feeling well, maybe she’d turned off her phone to sleep. But why wouldn’t she have told anyone at the office? None of this made sense. It was as though she’d been there and then vanished into thin air. She didn’t strike me as someone who would run off and abandon her work responsibilities.

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, I imagined her reaction to seeing me at her door. She might smile and call me a stalker again, but it would be worth it to see the laughter in her eyes as she invited me in to calm down. As long as she was okay, I would endure any amount of humiliation.

With this thought, I knocked on her door. It swung open to Maddison, who was already speaking. “Celia! I—” Her words faded. “Oh, it’s you.”

My stomach tightened. “She’s not here, then? Do you know where she is?”

She folded her arms and eyed me suspiciously. “She sent me a text. By the time I got home from work, she had packed and left.”

“Can I see it?” I asked. At the dark look on her face, I added softly, “Please.”

She grabbed her phone and held it up in front of me.

The message was brief:

I'll be off the radar for a while. Don’t panic when you come home and find me gone. I’ll text you after I’ve had time to clear my head. Thanks for understanding. XOXO.

The text had been sent four hours earlier.

“She hasn't texted or called since then?” I clarified.

Maddison shook her head, then her eyes narrowed. “What did you do? I can’t think of any other reason she would take off like this. Celia is not an impulsive person.”

Just then, my phone rang. I hurriedly pulled it out of my pocket. The caller ID showed Reeva. I ignored the call and silenced my phone, regretting reactivating her number after she’d told me I was to become a father.

“So, she packed everything?” I asked, peering past Maddison’s shoulder into the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

“She took the most necessary items. Do you want to look for yourself?” I didn’t think that was a genuine invitation, judging by the look on her face. “If I don’t hear from Celia soon, I’ll call the police,” she added.

It was clear I was in the doghouse as far as Maddison was concerned. It would take all my strength not to call the police myself.

“Please let me know if you hear from her.”

“If she asks me not to tell you, then I won’t,” she stated and shut the door before I could voice a protest.

I stood in the hallway, dumfounded. What had sent Celia running? Her disappearance was a very drastic step, especially if even her cousin didn’t know her whereabouts.

Where could she be?

My mind switched into overdrive. I searched for a number in my contact and typed in a quick text to Michael Earl, a private investigator who had worked for the firm a few times. If anyone could find Celia, he could.

My finger hovered over the “send” button.

Was I going too far?

We were colleagues who had become more than friends. We were dating, even if we hadn’t labeled it. But did that give me the right to hire an investigator to find her when she clearly didn’t want to be found? She had only been gone for a few hours, but not knowing if she was alright was killing me. How could I relax at all when she might be in trouble?

I clicked “send” and descended the stairs of her apartment building out into the streets. As I sat in my car, I got confirmation that Michael was on it. With some relief, I placed my phone down and started the car. Then, it buzzed again.

I automatically picked up the call. It was Reeva.

“Anton, you haven’t gotten back to me. I’ve been calling you.”

I sighed. “Reeva, now is not a good time.”

“When will it be a good time? It never seems to be with you.”

“Reeva—”

“Look, Anton, if this is how you want to play it, then you leave me no choice. Either you find time to talk to me, or you’ll face the consequences.”

This was my year of women. Reeva had just threatened me, Maddison was accusing me of Celia’s disappearance, and Celia had disappeared just when I thought I’d found a connection I’d assumed was unattainable all my life.

Two days.

Forty-eight hours.

Two thousand, eight hundred and eighty minutes without knowing where Celia was and if she was safe.

Every minute of her absence felt like an eternity. I had scouted every place I knew she frequented since arriving in New York, even though I knew deep down she wouldn’t be at any of those locations.

She didn’t want to see me.

The weight of not knowing was crushing.

Despite the futility of my efforts, I couldn’t sit and do nothing while waiting to hear back from the private investigator. I continued visiting those places, hoping she would emerge when she needed something, but fear clung tightly, a relentless companion. I hated feeling so powerless. If I could just find her, maybe I could mend whatever I did wrong.

When the text from my PI finally buzzed through, my first impulse was to punch the air in victory, but I stopped myself on time, aware of the bustling street around me. If Michael had been near me at that moment, I would have hugged him without a second thought.

With each throb of my racing heart, I read and reread the address he sent. It wasn’t a location I had considered. Celia had hidden herself away in a place I would never think to look.

Now, as I stood before the dumpy fa?ade of the motel, doubt crept in. Had I been too impatient by not letting the investigator verify her presence first? I couldn’t help the hope and fear roiling in my chest as I approached the motel room door.

“Please be here, Celia. Be right behind this door,” I murmured to myself.

My knock echoed against the metal door. I paused, listening. No answer. No noise coming from inside, either. I raised my hand and knocked again, ready to break it down if needed.

Before I could do either, the door opened, and Celia gasped when she saw it was me, her expression cycling from shock to anger to irritation.

She began to shut the door, but my foot shot out, stopping it. “Celia, wait.”

“Go away Anton.”

“What happened? Why did you disappear?”

“How did you find me?” She looked past me into the parking lot. “You were supposed to be delivering my dinner.”

The temptation to avoid telling her how I’d tracked her down was there, especially given she mistook me for a delivery person—a stroke of luck on my part. She might not have opened the door if she had glanced through the peephole first.

Admitting that I’d hired a private investigator to search for her felt like adding gasoline to the flames, but anything less than the truth would only make things worse.

“Your credit card was used to pay for the room.”

She sucked in a breath, anger flashing in her eyes. “What do you want, Anton?”

“To talk.”

“I didn’t answer your calls and texts because I don’t want to talk to you. Did that ever cross your mind?”

The past two days had been a torment, each moment spent agonizing over our last interactions, wondering if something I did drove her away.

Her current attitude confirmed my fears.

“I understand you’re angry, but please, let’s talk about it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right.”

“I’ve already told you I don’t want to talk, “she insisted, pushing the door against my foot. But I stood firm at the entrance, refusing to move. She gave up. “Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk about your ex and the baby.”

Her words struck like a hammer.

My heart sank.

How did she know about Reeva’s pregnancy?

My explanation better be good; losing her wasn’t an option.

What a time to realize this.

My eyes roamed her face again. Despite the harshness of her tone, I could see subtle tremor in her lower lip, sadness lingered in her gaze. The faint lines at the corners of her eyes deepened as she tried to maintain her composure, but the effort was evident in the way her brows furrowed slightly.

My heart felt like a stone. “Celia—”

“I don’t know what this is between us, and I don’t want to play games.” She let out a shaky sigh, her breath catching as if she was struggling to keep her voice steady. “If you would rather be with her or think you have to be because of some noble reasons, then why are you here?”

“I don’t—”

“And if you don’t know what you want, I refuse to be part of a guessing game.” Her tone sharpened, but the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface, like a wound she was trying to protect from further harm.

“Celia—”

“No excuses, remember? She cut me off again. “I don’t want to hear any from you. Just… go away, Anton.”

Words weren’t getting through to her, she wasn’t letting me say more than a word or two at a time. I pushed the door wide open and wrapped my arms around her.

She stiffened, shock filling her eyes. Then, her anger boiled over. She hit my chest with repeated little punches of her two fists, a weak attempt to get out of my hold.

“Let me go!”

Afraid a passing guest or staff member might hear, I quickly kicked the door closed behind me. Despite her protests, I held on.

“Celia, please,” I begged

Bending my head, I captured her mouth with mine.

She tried to push me away again. Her burst of anger was short-lived, as she soon sagged against me and gave in, our bodies molded to each other.

She let out a soft breath, and I captured the end of it as I kissed her fervently. Celia’s lips were soft and moist, her kisses enticing and maddening. She moved her hands from my chest, where they had been ready to continue fighting, and placed them at the back of my neck. I felt her soft body totally pressed against mine.

I squeezed her tighter to me, tilting my head and kissing her deeply. This was what I was missing in her absence, though now I was out of breath. Who needed breathing when Celia was swirling her tongue against mine, making my heart sing a song I couldn’t discern? Who needed to think when I was drowning in Celia, and I was okay with drowning together? She made satisfied little noises that I wanted to hear over and over, and my heart tugged with relief.

I had her back.

Things between us were complicated. She was my colleague, and I was possibly becoming a father with another woman soon.

I slowed the kiss and placed small pecks on her face. Despite those earlier thoughts of the things separating us, she felt so right in my arms, so right in my life.

Did she feel it, too?

Now wasn’t the time to tell her any of this.

She needed more of an explanation and to trust me.

“I’m not playing games, Celia,” I whispered in her ear. “There’s nothing between Reeva and me. I don’t want to be with her. You’re the one I want.”

She covered her face with her hands, shoulders shaking as she tried to muffle her silent sobs. She wanted to say something, maybe continue arguing, but she remained quiet, overwhelmed by her emotions.

“Look at me.”

She sighed and did as I asked. Even after we kissed, her eyes were filled with sadness. My heart was crushed, knowing I had caused that hurt. I knew erasing her doubts would take time. Though it was a small victory as she didn’t attempt to push me away again.

“These past few days worrying about you have been the worst of my life. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and I’m not sure what’s going to happen in the future, but I swear it’s over between me and Reeva. That’s the one thing I can guarantee won’t change.”

She closed her eyes and sighed deeply.

“You’re going to have a child, Anton.” Tears welled up again and streamed down her face. I reached up to wipe them away.

“Maybe. I only learned about the pregnancy a few days ago,” I replied. The day she’d disappeared, actually. It all made sense now. Celia must have overheard my conversation with Johan.

Her eyes darted between mine, wide and glassy, as if she were searching for something to hold onto. They flickered with the silent battle within—fear wrestling with the need to believe me, but the anger was no longer there. I maintained eye contact, willing her to see the truth in mine.

“Anton—”

“I’m yours if you'll have me, Celia. No games. No excuses. I promise,” I interjected before she could raise another objection. “I know this isn’t how you pictured our relationship starting, and neither did I. But I never want you to doubt your place in my life.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

“But—”

“Do you trust me?” I asked. The look that flashed through her eyes told me she didn’t. Not completely, in any case. And why should she? We’d known each other for less than three months! That realization hit me hard. So, I quickly added, “Alright, if not trust, then will you at least give me the benefit of the doubt? Hear my side?”

She nodded slowly, releasing a heavy sigh. “Sure, tell me.”

I placed a hand on her cheek. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you, Celia. I would never intentionally hurt you.” The words, unspoken yet resounding within me, jolted my heart.

She seemed relaxed, her shoulders easing as she leaned in.

“I believe you,” she said at last.

A wave of relief surged through my veins, the tension of the last few days slowly fading away. I gently lifted her chin and kissed her softly on her lips again, telling her with action that we would figure this out, that she would stay in my life. She pressed herself closer, melting into me, clutching the front of my shirt. It took all my restraint not to let my hands explore her curves.

“Shall we leave this place and head back to Maddison’s?” I suggested after we ended another heart-pounding kiss.

She glanced around the run-down motel room. “What do you mean? It’s not so bad,” she countered, though her tone lacked convincing.

“Right. And I’m King Midas,” I replied sarcastically, relieved that our banter was returning.

“Well, you kind of are King Midas, so I’m not sure that analogy works.” She chuckled, and I realized how much I’d missed that sound the last few days.

“Come on. I’ll help you pack,” I said, releasing her. But before she could move away, another thought hit me. I grabbed her hand, pulling her back against my chest. “And you’re not quitting your job,” I added firmly, tucking a stray tendril of her soft curls behind her ear. “I won’t allow that.”

She bit her lip and nodded.

I buried my face in her neck, overwhelmed by a blend of relief and profound gratitude. The scent of her hair sparked a deep nostalgia, joy mingling with awareness that she made me vulnerable. This was the first relationship that brought out the fear of losing someone, not family. With every breath I took, I wanted to engrave her scent in my memory. There was hope for a long-term relationship in me now that I hadn’t had before.

Was this what commitment felt like?