NAT'S POV

I glance around the mostly empty art gallery with a tired sigh, noticing that it loses a certain amount of magic in the daylight. Or maybe it's his absence that takes away from it.

The white walls are now bare aside from the small stickers next to the name plates that tell you how many people bought each piece. A few waiters mill around, cleaning forgotten champagne glasses and other trash that the people at the opening should have known better than to leave.

I laid in bed last night, staring at the blades of my ceiling fan as they spun as quick as my mind did, wondering what the hell happened. He made me laugh freely and without hesitation, reawakening a part of myself I thought I lost a long time ago. We danced in the rain. My favorite place in the world until I was in his arms. He took a piece of my heart with his beautiful, haunted gaze then just left like it meant nothing to him. Like I meant nothing to him, only giving me some half-assed excuse.

I couldn't sleep, seeing his eyes every time I closed mine, so I decided to do something about it. Hence the early morning visit to the art gallery.

I check around the entrance, hoping to spot a guestbook that I might have missed last night. No luck.

I walk through the maze of walls until I find someone, fighting a grimace as I look her over. Her hair is bleach blonde with dirty blonde highlights, teased out to insane proportions, making me think of a forties housewife. Big lips i'm guessing she paid for, painted a purple that gives halloween vibes. Heavily made up eyes with fake lashes and a lot of deep red blush. Her too dark foundation has settled into her fine lines, aging her another ten years. Her uniform is two sizes too small and the first three buttons on her shirt are undone, more than just hinting at a black lace camisole. Her breasts are too big and perky to be real, making her small waist and hips look even smaller. Three inch heels take her from 5'1 to 5'4 and aren't allowed with the uniform.

I instantly don't like her. I realize that probably makes me a bitch, but I don't care. My line of work means I need to gather an accurate opinion of a person in seconds and i'm pretty damn good at doing so. I trust my instincts, and they don't like her. They also tell me that she noticed my guy and every other man with a dick and a wallet. I'm guessing she didn't just happen to end up catering to a building full of rich men by accident.

I force myself to push aside my dislike of this woman and remember what's at stake as I close the distance.

She glances up at the sound of my footsteps, running her calculating gaze over me, pursing her lips in distaste.

Instincts: 1 humanity: 0.

I consider a moment before reaching for a dirty champagne glass, lying it down in a nearby bin, more in the interest of distracting myself than to be helpful.

She shrugs as she no doubt comes to the conclusion that if it's less work for her I can stay.

I bite back a dark laugh, wanting to rearrange her payed for face, and unlike most people, I could actually do it.

"I was hoping you could help me find someone" I admit reluctantly, wanting this over with as soon as possible.

She does another, slower, more judgmental sweep of me, head to toe.

I don't give her the satisfaction of a reaction because I put absolutely no stock in her opinion.

"He was here last night. My age, maybe older. He left at the beginning of the opening. Dark hair, dark green eyes, deep voice. Black suit, white shirt, red tie-"

"Alex."

I blink at the one word, and I swear my mind goes blank for a second.

"His name is Alex something. Didn't get a last name." Her tone is bored as she examines her too long nails, but there's a shrewdness behind the carefully neutral words that suggests she's not nearly as indifferent as she'd like me to believe. My guess is she made a move on him and he turned her down.

I want to laugh at her embarrassment, slam her face into the bar for touching him and kiss him senseless for turning her down.

'I'm obviously well adjusted.'

"Was he with anyone?" I hedge, barely managing to hide the way my voice shake.

"Not that I noticed."

Meaning he wasn't with another man. Another woman wouldn't stop her.

"Was he a buyer or an artist?"

Her thin eyebrows snap together in annoyance.

"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention to that."

Of course not. If I had enough patience I could ask about what she did notice and I might be able to get something from that, but sadly my patience for her wasn't high to begin with, and now I simply have none.

"Did he talk to anyone?" I try, hoping for something. Anything.

"Not that I noticed" she repeats, her already too high pitched voice turning short.

I let the dark laugh escape as I go to walk away, but she stops me before I can get far enough away to breathe without choking on her heavy floral perfume.

"Good luck getting his attention" she warns with humor in her voice and a bitchy, knowing look in her eyes.

I knew she made a move on him. I fucking knew it.

A sexy, just as knowing smile touches my lips.

"No need honey. Where do you think he went last night?" I ask innocently, taking her shock as my cue to leave.

Her jealous stare digs into my back as I reach for my phone, but I shrug it off maybe a little too easily.

My fingers move out of instinct and within seconds the call connects.

"Yellow?" she chirps, making me smile.

"Orange" I retort, relaxing a little for the first time since he walked away from me.

"What do you need?" She chuckles, and I know her fingers are already poised over her keyboard.

Two minutes later I have a name and number for the owner of the gallery.

"Thanks K. You're the best" I remark honestly.

Something in her hesitation tells me she needed to hear that, but before I can ask about it I hear a barely audible 'thank you' and the line goes dead.

I hesitate myself, but if she's not ready to tell me I can't force her, so I reluctantly drop it, dialing the number she gave me.

Voicemail is about to pick it up when a craggily voice answers, very rudely demanding to know what I want.

Ok then. Guess we know he's not a morning person.

"Jeffery Craig?" I counter evenly, making my tone as bored as fake barbie back there. Most people are probably intimidated by his attitude, but i'm not. I can read this guy over the phone with one sentence.

Just like I knew he would, he pauses.

"Yes?" It comes out as a question.

"My name is Nat and I'm calling about your art gallery-"

"Shit. What happened now?" He demands with a noticeable edge of panic.

"Nothing" I assure calmly, though in the back of my mind I'm wondering what has happened in the past to lead to his almost resigned annoyance. "I need to know who rented the space last night" I explain, getting straight to the point. I'm hoping the person who held the party has a list of guests, and Alex is on it and not a plus one. The distant thought occurs that he could have been a crasher.

"I can't do that" he states mildly.

I think I might stab him.

"You will give me that name or so help me god-" I promise, but again he cuts me off, not helping his case of convincing me not to stab him.

"Look lady-" I grit my teeth so hard I think a couple break. "I can't give it to you because I don't have it. He payed in cash, didn't offer his name and I didn't ask. Now do me a favor and lose my number, ok?" He suggests, hanging up on me.

I hiss out a breath through my teeth, fighting the urge to throw my phone in frustration. No sleep and the ache he left me with aren't a good combination. I'm on the edge, seconds from snapping and i'm a little afraid to find out what will happen when I do.