Page 22 of Billionaire Alien Boss Daddy

“Get it together, Claire,” I say, pressing my palms into my eyes. “You’re smarter than this.”

But the truth is, I’m not sure I am. Because right now, all I can think about is the way his scales feel under my fingers, and the way he says my name, like it’s something precious. And I’m terrified—terrified that if I keep digging, I’ll ruin the best thing I’ve ever had.

I sit at my desk, fingers drumming on the edge of my keyboard. The glow of the monitor casts a pale blue light over the room, and my thoughts are a tangled mess. Silas’s visit left me with a knot of dread in my stomach, and I know I need to figure out what Shomun was doing the night of the break-in. My eyes flick to the clock. It’s late, but he’s probably still awake. Simon doesn’t sleep much. Thinking about him tugs at something in my chest, but I push the feeling aside. This isn’t aboutus. This is about survival.

I pull up his schedule on my computer. As his personal assistant, I have full access—past and present. My fingers hesitate over the keys, then I start scrolling back. Week after week, meeting after meeting, until I land on the date Silas gave me. The night of the break-in. My heart pounds as I click on the day.

And there it is. A single letter, bold and unapologetic, taking up a three-hour block.V.

“V?” I mutter under my breath, leaning closer to the screen like it might explain itself if I stare hard enough. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

My mind races.V for Veritas?Shomun’s mentioned Veritas before, but only in broad strokes. Something about protecting the timeline, something big and important. But this? A three-hour gap with no details, no notes, just a cryptic letter—it doesn’t sit right.

I grab my phone and pull up Silas’s number. My thumb hovers over the screen, and I hammer out a quick message.

Claire:Found something. Shomun’s schedule for the night in question has a block marked “V.” No details. Could be Veritas-related. Still digging.

I hit send before I can second-guess myself. The reply comes almost instantly.

Silas:V? That’s it? No location? No contacts? You’re going to have to do better than that, Claire.

I roll my eyes. Of course he’s not satisfied.

Claire:It’s a start. Give me time.

Silas:Time’s up. I need answers, not riddles.

I toss my phone onto the desk and scrub a hand over my face. He’s not going to back off, and I don’t blame him. But “V” isn’t enough—not for Silas, and not for me.

I need solid evidence.

I open a new browser tab and start digging into Veritas. The search results are sparse, mostly conspiracy theories and obscure references. Nothing concrete. Frustration bubbles up in my chest, and I slam my laptop shut.

“What are you hiding, Shomun?” I whisper to the empty room.

CHAPTER12

CLARICE

Ipush open the door to Simon’s office, my heart pounding as I prepare to ask him the question that’s been gnawing at me. But the second I step inside, he spins around in his chair, and the words die in my throat. His eyes are dark, hungry, and they lock onto me like I’m the only thing in the room. My pulse quickens, and I suddenly forget why I came in here in the first place.

“Lock the door,” he says, commanding. It’s not a suggestion. It’s an order.

I swallow hard, my fingers fumbling with the lock as I do as I’m told. The click of the latch echoes in the silence, and I turn to face him again. He’s still staring at me, his gaze unwavering, and I feel like I’m walking into a trap—one I don’t particularly mind being caught in.

“Come here,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. I approach slowly, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor. My eyes catch a glint of light as I get closer, and I realize he’s got something in his hand. It’s shiny, glinting like a gemstone.

“Planning on going back in time to the 70s with that gaudy ring?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, to steady my nerves. My voice comes out a little too high, a little too forced.

His brows arch, and he looks at me like I’ve just said something completely ridiculous. “What ring?”

He opens his hand, and that’s when I see it. It’s not a ring. It’s the jewel plug, the same one from the package I saw earlier. The rose gold metal gleams in the light, the heart-shaped gem at the base catching the sunlight streaming through the window. My face heats up, the flush spreading down my neck.

“I bought you a present, Clarice,” he says, his voice husky, dripping with something primal. “I think you’re going to love it.”

I stare at the plug, my mind racing. I’ve never done anything like this before. The idea is equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. “I… I’ve never…” My voice trails off, and I bite my lip.

“Do you trust me, Clarice?” he asks, cutting through my hesitation with that deep, steady tone of his.

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