"Alaric the lover boy," Richard teased, shaking his head with a knowing grin as Alaric walked back inside.
Alaric wasn't surprised by Richard's statement—he knew it was coming the moment he entered the room.
Richard leaned forward, a smirk on his face. "You were looking at her like I just ruined your whole night. Sorry for coming in unannounced."
Alaric huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he sat down. "You think too much. It was nothing."
Richard's smirk widened. "Didn't look like nothing to me."
Alaric chuckled. "You're a clown."
Richard laughed, leaning into the chair. "Is it official yet? Has she finally moved in with you?"
Alaric's forehead creased into a frown. "No, not yet," he replied, his thoughts drifting.
Something had been off with Nicolette yet when he wanted to ask her, he had let himself be carried away by how she looked in his shirt.
He hadn't expected her to look so comfortable in it, as if she was meant to be there. And God, for a moment there, he had wanted to tear the shirt off her body.
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts—reminding himself that this wasn't a normal marriage and she was only his for a year.
Hisforayear.
His heart tugged with possessiveness at the thought. The contract hadn't even started, and he could already tell he was in for a long, eventful year.
If only he could train himself to keep his hands off her.
"So, when is she moving in?" Richard asked, breaking his thoughts.
"She was supposed to move in today, but I don't know," Alaric admitted.
Apparently he doesn't know anything about her, and she was too stubborn to tell.
His mind drifted to her quick objection about not going to her gallery, and he wondered if there were other motives aside from the clothes part.
He wondered how the place was. He wondered what had really gone down there. He was curious to know another side of her—the artistic side—which he suspected was the best version of her.
Without thinking, Alaric shot to his feet. "I'm going to Nicolette's gallery."
"What?" Richard was taken by surprise at the sudden quest.
"I want to see Nicolette's gallery," he repeated, this time more firmly.
If Richard found that weird, he didn't say. Instead he stood up as well. "Let's go. I will drive."
Alaric nodded, grateful that he didn't have to explain himself so much. It was weird enough that he had the sudden urge to find out more about her.
It'sallaboutknowing his new wife.
Together, they went out of the house and into Richard's car. Just as they were driving out of the premises, Trainer returned.
"Where are we going?" Richard asked as he increased speed.
Alaric wasn't a hundred percent certain, but he gave Richard the address he thinks was of Nicolette's gallery.
After several turns and asking for directions, they finally arrived at the gallery. Alaric could tell it was the right place because of the police caution tape placed at the front.
"What the hell?" Richard exclaimed as they got out of the car.
Fear gripped Alaric's heart as he walked toward the charred remains. There was nothing left—just dirt, debris, and darkened ruins that still had their acrid smell.
His feet crunched over broken glasses as he took a closer look. There was no door, no window, just an empty, burned-out room.
How awful Nicolette must have felt.
His heart tugged with concern at the thought.
"This is just wild!" Richard said from behind him. "And the fire took just her building?"
Richard's statement made Alaric look around.
Richard was right. The gallery was at the bottom of a bakery, and from the look and smell of things, the bakery was still functioning.
A salon was to the right, and a pharmacy to the left—and both businesses were untouched.
"That is strange," Alaric said aloud.
"Everybody else looks fine," Richard observed, his eyes darting around. "Could she have had a gas leak? Or an electrical fault?"
"I didn't see anything like that in the report," Alaric replied.
He had read the police report, and it hadn't mentioned either possibility. In fact, the authorities weren't sure what had caused the fire.
Alaric exhaled slowly, thinking of Nicolette's loss. He could almost imagine her standing here, watching everything she worked for turn to ash.
No wonder she didn't want to talk about it. He would fix this now, it had become a priority. Just as he was about to cross under the caution tape, a woman's voice rang out.
"Don't you dare walk in there!"
Alaric paused, glancing around until he spotted her. She was coming from the salon and she had a frown on her face as she approached them.
"What do you want?" she asked, eyeing them suspiciously.
Alaric straightened up. "We just wanted to see inside."
The woman stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest. "Well, you can't, unless you're with the police—which you clearly aren't."
"He's Nicolette's husband," Richard injected.
The woman threw her head back in laughter. Alaric couldn't blame her for not recognizing him. Most older people weren't up to date with the latest news.
"That's an awful joke. Everybody knows who her boyfriend is, even though he is…" she trailed off, her mouth twisting in disgust.
Even though he was what?
Alaric was curious to hear the rest. What was wrong with Nicolette's boyfriend?
"Anyways, no one is allowed here, unless you make a donation," the woman continued. "We're trying to salvage this place."
Alaric knew there would be no use for their donations, but he did want a closer look inside, and he didn't want to make a scene.
He pulled out his wallet and handed her a few hundred-dollar bills. "Here."
The woman licked her lips as she collected the money. "You can go in now. We really appreciate your donation."
Alaric nodded, bent over the yellow tape and went inside. The room looked huge, despite the destruction.
Richard coughed as he explored as well. "I don't think they could have saved anything."
Alaric shook his head as he looked around. "Nope."
His heart swelled with concern at the thought of Nicolette's pain. The shock of the loss must have been devastating.
No more destruction. It was time to transform the place.
He took out his phone and texted Tom, instructing him to clear all paperwork and get police authorization to reopen the gallery.
One step at a time.
Once that was out of the way, Nicolette could pick her own building designs, and they could proceed from there.
Immediately he was done with the message, his phone rang with a call from Stelle.
"Hello, Stelle," he answered, stepping back over the yellow tape into the sidewalk.
"Hi sir," Stelle said, her voice wobbling. "Ah… a young woman wants to speak with you."
Alaric blinked. "Who?"
"A young woman—" But before Stelle could finish, the phone was taken away from her.
"Mr Allens. It's me, Suzie, Lettie's friend."
"Suzie?" Alaric said, his stomach knotting at the distress in her voice.
Why was Suzie calling him?
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"No, I'm not!" Suzie cried. "My son and I were kidnapped by Lettie's father, and she told me to ask you for help," Suzies's voice rose with fear and shock.
His chest tightened, but he managed to keep his voice steady. "Where is Nicolette?"
"I don't know! The last time I saw her, she was forced into a car!" Suzie said, panic rising in her voice.
The fear doubled in his chest as Richard reached for him.
"What happened?" Richard mouthed.
Alaric shrugged, still piecing it together. "Wait, Suzie. Let me get you straight," he said calmly. "You were kidnapped by Nicolette's father, and he has her too?"
"No, he doesn't have her. He sent her off to Lucian Crawford's place," Suzie explained.
Who the hell was Lucian Crawford?
"But I got the plate number of the car that took her. It is FKJ332," Suzie continued.
"FKJ332," Alaric repeated. "Okay, got it."
"Please save her," Suzie pleaded desperately.
The fright and urgency in her voice heightened the dread in Alaric's stomach.
"Don't worry, I'm working on it," he assured her. "Just stay put."
"Alright, thank you," Suzie said, then passed the phone to Stelle.
"Hello sir."
"Make her comfortable, I'm on my way," he said and hung up.
"What happened?" Richard asked, worry etched on his face.
"Nicolette is missing or kidnapped—I don't know which," he replied hurriedly as he walked to Richard's car. "Her friend gave me the plate number."
"Give it to me," Richard said, entering his car and taking his laptop. When Alaric gave him the number, he said, "I will track its GPS, check security footage, and tap into traffic cams if needed."
While Richard was busy, Alaric called Tom requesting immediate police support.
After a moment, Richard sighed with regret. " I have nothing."
Alaric's heart tightened with fear but he kept a hopeful tone. "Let's just hope the police come up with something."
Richard started the car just as Alaric's phone rang with an unknown number. With a slightly shaky hand, he picked up.
"Good day, Mr Allens. This is Detective Steve from the NOPD."
"Hello detective," Alaric's heart sank. "Have you found her?"
The detective sighed. "I'm sorry, sir. We couldn't locate the car and we haven't found your wife yet."
Alaric gripped the phone tighter, his heart pounding. The words settled in his stomach, cold and unpleasant.
Nicolette was missing.