Chapter 92: Fat Buddies

"And now?" he asked.

"She’s scared, obviously. Her business is struggling, work is a lot, and she’s trying to figure out everything."

Dorian eased some of his weight off her. "Are they keeping the baby?"

"Of course. I just... the timing sucks."

"Yeah," Dorian said quietly. "I know."

Because now telling Tessa that her husband might be cheating wasn’t just about a three-month marriage anymore.

There was a baby involved. Another future being built around information Tessa didn’t have.

"What’s your plan?"

She sighed. "I don’t have one."

"You need one."

"Which one makes me a terrible friend?" she asked quietly. "Telling her or not telling her."

"Neither makes you a terrible friend," Dorian said. "But you aren’t thinking about just Tessa anymore. A baby is involved."

"I know! I know!" Naomi groaned, throwing her head back against the Mercedes. "Ughhhhh... this is so, so, so messed up!"

Dorian couldn’t argue with that. The truth hadn’t changed, but the consequences certainly had. He straightened. "Come on, let’s go in." He reached for her. "I’ve got a bit of work to do before I head to bed."

Naomi accepted his hand and slid carefully off the hood. He caught her around the waist when her legs threatened to disagree with standing.

He retied the satin sash of her black lace robe, taking entirely too much time. His fingers brushing her breasts.

Naomi slapped his hand away. "Behave."

"It’s after midnight. Technically, I don’t have to." Dorian picked up the thicker robe she had abandoned on the garage floor and handed it to her.

"You’re working hard these days," Naomi said as she covered herself.

"Should be over soon." He said it offhandedly, but he genuinely hoped it would be.

The sooner he found something useful in Marianne Bennett’s past, the sooner this entire situation could end.

He could stop secretly digging into Naomi’s family. Stop carrying around a truth he had no business knowing.

And maybe, somehow, he could find a way out of this mess without feeling like he had violated Naomi’s trust.

They headed upstairs together, choosing the stairs instead of the elevator. A few floors up, Naomi looked over at him.

"Do you want me to bring something up for you? Eating past midnight isn’t healthy," she admitted. "But you cannot go to bed without food considering the workout you just did."

"It was quite the workout, uhn?"

Naomi gave him a sideways smile. "You’re getting better and better."

Dorian chuckled. "I hope so."

"Oh, don’t fish for compliments. Your ego is already overfed."

Dorian laughed. By the time they reached the kitchen floor, Naomi stopped.

"I’ll be up in a bit."

He continued upstairs alone. His mood had finally settled somewhat by the time he reached his floor. The Audi was still at the back of his mind, but home was secure, and tomorrow he could start figuring out exactly who the hell had been following him.

Dorian picked up his phone. Ten missed calls. All from Adrian. Interestingly, he was also exactly the man Dorian had been planning to speak to. He needed Adrian to look at the dash-cam footage and see whether they could pull anything useful from the gray Audi. Dorian tapped his name.

He dialled him back immediately.

"Saturday going good, uhn?" Adrian’s voice drifted through the second he answered.

"You’re an idiot."

"That wasn’t a no. I saw you transmitted your location, which is why I called. I wanted to make sure you were good."

"Yes, I’m good."

"For future reference, answering calls would be helpful."

"I was occupied."

"I gathered."

"Could you access my dash-cam footage, send the relevant sections to the investigative team and let me have a report by Monday?"

"Yes, boss. Anything specific they should be looking for?"

"Gray Audi A6."

"Do you want me to rally the troops?"

Dorian turned around to face the door. "Nooo."

Security outside the townhouse. People watching the office.

"I don’t want to spook Naomi," Dorian continued. "I’ve got everything I need here."

"Yes, boss."

"Adrian?"

"Boss?"

"Always check your six. If someone is stalking me, chances are you’re being watched too."

"I know the drill."

"Good."

"See ya, boss. Enjoy your Saturday."

Dorian frowned. "Idiot..." He hung up, opened the dash-cam app and found the recording from earlier that evening. Watching it on his phone wasn’t enough, so he cast the footage onto the large television mounted in his room.

The screen filled with the road ahead. Dorian stood in front of it with his arms folded. He watched the sequence once at normal speed.

Dorian restarted the clip. This time he slowed it down. He paused the footage as the Audi moved through the clearest angle.

The plate was visible. He stepped closer to the television. He had represented enough people who made entire careers out of avoiding evidence to know that a readable plate didn’t automatically mean a useful plate.

He rewound the footage and froze it again. Clear enough that the team wouldn’t have much trouble running it. He rubbed his jaw.

Someone who knew him quite well wouldn’t make it so easy for himself to be found. Unless he didn’t know who he was dealing with or the plates do not belong to the car.

So Dorian stopped wasting time on the plate and focused on the driver instead. Unfortunately, that gave him even less.

The Audi’s windows were heavily tinted, and no matter how many times he slowed the footage or paused at different angles, there was nothing useful behind the glass.

Still, Heathcliffe & Associates had one of the best investigative teams money could buy. They would pull something.

Someone always left a trail. The bedroom door opened behind him. Naomi stepped inside carrying a tray in both hands and a bottle of water.

"Leftovers from the restaurant."

Dorian turned. The smell reached him first. Rich beef stew with chunks of meat, carrots and mushrooms spooned over creamy mashed potatoes, the dark sauce sinking into the edges. "I am getting used to the free food."