ARMAND
It was after dark, and Ella wasn’t home. One thing I knew about her was she was a homebody, a result of having spent her upbringing on a reality show. She loved modeling but no longer craved the spotlight. On One’s ass had a lot to do with that too, though. She also wasn’t answering her phone and I was getting more than a little worried.
I could get in my truck and try to find her, but I had no idea where she was scouting locations. I had to do something, nonetheless, because I was about to lose my complete shit.
Picking up my phone, I dialed her number again, foot tapping and heart galloping. Where the fuck was she?
The “hello” wasn’t from Ella, so I took the phone from my ear to make sure it was her number I’d called and not some random white woman’s. It was Ella’s number, the one programmed in my phone as “Sir.”
“Who the fuck is this?!” I barked. “And where the fuck is Ella?!” I was on my feet now, although I didn’t know where I was going.
“Oh, my! Um, I’m Wendy, a nurse at University Hospital. There’s been an accident…”