**Leaves Falling Like Promises**
**By Amara Grant**
**Chapter 46**
**KAT**
“I’m sorry, but we cannot disclose any information about our guests.”
The words hung in the air, sharp and unyielding. Frustration and anger surged within me, but they quickly fizzled out, overshadowed by the gnawing fear that had burrowed deep into my bones. I had always known Mr. Rivers was dangerous, but why had I even come here? It was futile to think he would ever confess to being a murderer, and I seriously doubted he would tell that man to stop stalking me.
Keeping me on edge was likely his intention.
“If you could just call his room—”
“Sorry, ma’am.” The receptionist maintained her polished, professional smile, a mask that did little to hide her indifference.
With a huff of exasperation, I surveyed the lavish lobby around me. This hotel was beyond anything I had ever experienced—opulent and extravagant. Every guest seemed to exude wealth, even the staff, who were impeccably dressed. I felt woefully out of place, having hastily thrown on my suit that morning without a second glance to check for wrinkles. I was an imposter in this world of luxury.
Once more, I glanced at my phone. Thankfully, he hadn’t reached out since our last encounter, but after I had abandoned work, I had sent him several messages pleading for him to stop watching me. He had ignored those, only responding to my last desperate inquiry about his whereabouts. I interpreted that as an invitation to meet.
I typed out a quick message: “They won’t let me up,” and hit send.
My gaze flitted nervously around the lobby, scrutinizing every face. Had he followed me here? What had that unsettling smirk meant? It sent chills down my spine, more so than his mere gaze ever had.
Just then, my phone vibrated in my hand, and I hastily opened the message.
“‘You might want to find a corner to hide in.”
I blinked, confusion washing over me. Why would I need to hide? Even if the Bureau showed up to question him, I wasn’t doing anything wrong.
The elevator chimed from across the lobby, and my heart dropped. My brother stepped out, deep in conversation with a man beside him, adjusting his cuffs with an air of casual confidence. All the air rushed out of my lungs. Hearing his voice had been one thing, but seeing him in the flesh was another entirely.
He had changed. The beard was longer and scruffier than I had ever seen, the bags under his eyes were darker, and his hair had grown out in a way that would have horrified our mother. Had I contributed to this transformation?
Was this my selfishness manifesting as his suffering?
Mr. Rivers caught my eye for a fleeting moment, not breaking stride or diverting from his conversation, as if he had known exactly where I was hiding. That memory of his warning to conceal myself flooded back to me.
I quickly turned away from the striking men, snatching a brochure from the front desk. I pretended to flip through it, but my ears were attuned to their conversation.
“You’re getting too involved with the Bureau, Kostas,” Mr. Rivers said sharply as they walked past me. “You should know better by now. I don’t have the time to deal with it, and that bastard won’t let you go.”
Their tone suggested camaraderie, but I knew better than to trust appearances. If they were truly friends, Mr. Rivers would have taken me to Kostas the moment he found me. My instincts had been right all along—Mr. Rivers was both ruthless and cunning.
“Don’t worry about him,” Mr. Rivers replied, his voice low and confident. “I know how to handle the Bureau.”
Kostas’ response was lost in the ambient noise of the lobby. I dared to glance again, watching my brother’s tall figure move toward the entrance. Was he leaving? Was he going home? A lump formed in my throat, and tears threatened to spill from my eyes. The urge to call out his name was almost unbearable.



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