The next night, I knocked on the front door of the McAllister estate. From Elijah's surveillance, I knew that Christopher was gone, and the staff had retired for the night. One butler would be manning the front door. Elijah had no idea where Rye was, but since he hadn't seen any trace of him, we were assuming that he was out as well.
I refused to think about where he might be, with whom, doing what. He'd told me he would never f**k Izzy Van Sant and I believed him. Rye had never given me any reason to doubt him. He always stated his intentions up front.
The butler, a wiry, dapper man from England, opened the door. From behind my back, I presented him with a large bouquet of flowers, purple hydrangea mixed with stargazer lilies and towering spires of delphiniums. I thrust it at him.
"Flo
