Chapter Text
Rhysand Dannan stood on the top floor of his brand new office building. The glass window surround, balcony, and the sleek modern office made it look like he had it all. And to the outside he did have it all. He was 30 with a thriving business, his family working with him in well earned positions, and more wealth than he currently knew what to do with. Of course he made donations to all of the charities that truly helped in the area, but that only drew more people to his business.
He had houses, and cars, expensive suits, bejeweled cufflinks and watches, access to all the exclusive dining and entertainment, and yet, he wasn’t entirely happy. He was surrounded by his chosen family every day, his parents and sister once a week for dinner, and yet he was lonely. It wasn’t that he didn’t have his choice of women. Being the young entrepreneur that he was and decently good looking, he never had to look far if he wanted company in bed or for dinner. But none of the women ever measured up to the woman in his head. And the woman in his head was long gone.
When he had been young and stupid at 18, he had met 16 year old Feyre Archeron in a math class. She had been advanced in maths and he had instantly fallen head over heels for her. She had been witty, snarky, beautiful, wicked, and had a sharp tongue. She never took his flirting without a raised eyebrow and a biting remark. But she had also merged right in with his friends no problem. So no one was surprised when he had asked her out.
They had spent two glorious years as a couple, dating even while he was away at school. He came home on weekends, called her every night just to hear her voice, and texted her nonstop throughout the days. But slowly the draw of party life in college had called to him and he didn’t go home every weekend. Didn’t call her every night. Didn’t text as much throughout the day. She was starting to slip out of his mind and he realized that one night as she had incessantly called him while he was at a party, he was done. So he had shot a text off to her telling her it was over. The calls stopped after that.
It had taken several years before he had even bothered to look her up and mostly to issue an apology for being an ass. After a woman had broken up with his cousin Mor by text and he had watched that devastation, he had realized what a jerk he had been. The number he had called came back with a man answering saying he had never heard of the name but it was probably whoever had the number before him. Her social media was stuck in the year he had broken it off with her, the last thing posted had been an obituary for her father claiming he had died the night he had broken up with her.
Rhys had felt like a much bigger jerk after that. He had known the moment he had read that that Feyre had been frantically calling him for support when her father had passed. And yet, he hadn’t answered. Instead he had broken up with her, had been annoyed with her even at that point.
Rhys had sent her an email then, hoping she would see that and he could apologize in person. But it remained unread.
The guilt of it all haunted him. But more than that, he found himself comparing all women to her. Not just the way they made him feel but how they responded to his flirting, or how they dealt with Mor’s closeness, Azriel’s quiet dry humor, or Cassian’s boisterous love. Most wanted little to do with his family and that wasn’t ever going to be okay with him.
But Feyre remained off of the radar. He had taken Azriel’s amazing tracking skills and still the man had come up empty handed after it had been found out the bank had taken the house from Feyre. Her father had been too far behind on his mortgage and there had been no grace for the 18 year old girl living in the house. She was gone after that. No medical records. No arrest records. No degrees. No school records. Nothing. Azriel had even searched for a death record, but had come up empty handed.
“Rhysie,” Cassian called him back to reality. He realized he had been staring out the window to the ground below while she had been on his mind again. “Uh oh, I know that look.”
“What look?” Rhys feigned but his family knew him all too well.
“The I-dreamed-of-Feyre-last-night-and-feel-guilty-and-want-to-find-her-and-fix-it-all look,” Cassian said in one breath. “I’ll have Azriel put another feeler out.” He sighed. “But until then, you have to meet young Tarquin and get him settled in.”
Rhys sighed. It was a special touch his company did where the CEO met every new employee for lunch. It helped them all feel special and it let him know exactly who was working for him. It also made him more approachable for everyone. Their newest hire, a young man named Tarquin was a practical wizard with networking. Rhys had snatched him up for the sales team fast and knew the kid would find his way to director of sales in no time whenever Mor saw fit to move from that position.
Tarquin was waiting for him at his desk when Rhys arrived. The dark skinned man had shocking white hair and stunning ocean blue eyes. But he also had a gentle smile and instantly made everyone at ease, which is how he negotiated great deals. He was giving Rhys that smile when he approached the kid’s desk. But the smile dropped when Rhys froze his eyes going to a sketch that sat pinned over Tarquin’s computer screen.
“Are we not allowed art? I didn’t see anything against it in the manual,” Tarquin stuttered out.
“You’re allowed art,” Rhys forced the words out. “Where did you buy it?”
The piece was on a basic piece of sketch paper ripped out of a sketch book. Drawn with pencil and done of an ocean shore line, a lighthouse on a rocky bluff, storm clouds in the distance, and in one corner… the artist signature: FA.
He knew the art style. Had watched Feyre sketch thousands of times when they had dated. She had even posted up artwork that she had done for internet approval for her portfolio. He knew her style and he knew her signature. This was certainly a Feyre Archeron piece.
“There’s a woman that sits on the street corner outside of my morning coffee shop. Sad story really. She wouldn’t accept any help besides some food and coffee though. So I gave her a sketchbook and pencils the other morning because she had mentioned she liked to paint and draw, and she gave me this this morning as a thank you. Said I reminded her of the sea.” Tarquin shrugged.
Rhys blinked as he slowly processed the story. “Sits outside the coffee shop as in…”
“One of the homeless in the area. I think she sits there because the coffee shop lets her. The lady that runs it gives her coffee from time to time.”
Rhys blinked and blinked again. Feyre, his Feyre, homeless on the street corner while he was one of the richest people in the country. Shit. That would explain how she had fallen off of the radar, but still, how long had she been on the street.
“I like the drawing. Maybe I can pay her to make me something,” Rhys said to Tarquin trying to explain away his interest. “Where do you get your morning coffee?”
“Alis’ down on third,” Tarquin’s smile returned. “Maybe I can help her by promoting her sketches.”
“I’ll pay her well for her work. You never skimp on art.” Rhys smiled too. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
He led Tarquin out of the building while he texted the little details he had learned directly to Azriel.