Page 87 of The Billionaire's Wake-up-call Girl

Mr. Drummond!

My mind whirls.

Mr. Drummond?Here?

My heart bongos a new tune. It’s an angrier and more excited tune than theMobsters are coming!tune.

“Yeah, you can just fuck off,” I call through the door.

Slap. Palm meets door. Eye meets peephole. “Open up. Come on.” Still so arrogant. “We need to talk.”

“You need to stop sniffing chemical fumes if you think I’m ever going to talk to you.”

He slaps the door again, more softly this time. “Open up. Please.”

“Why?”

“Because we can’t have this conversation like this.”

“We already had it. That was our entire conversation.”

“Just open it,” he says.

“You think you’re still the boss of me? I cannot even…”

“Seven…”

“Oh my god! You don’t get to call me that. Seven is dead.” Angrily, I jerk back the bolt. “You killed her!” I fling open the door.

And come face-to-face with Mr. Drummond, larger than life in a dove-gray suit and bright yellow tie.

My heart stutters.

It’s weirdly wonderful to see him.

I grip the knob, reminding myself how mad I am at him, how he told Sasha about us, how scared I am of the loan shark guys.

“News flash,” I bite out, “you don’t get to order me around ever again. And if you think we’re going to fuck right now—or ever—after you told Sasha every intimate detail of our phone calls. After you told her to fire me? Being that you didn’t even have the courage to do it yourself? Soooooo not gonna happen.”

He narrows his eyes. “You think I told Sasha about what we said...and then told her to fire you…”

“Unless Sasha’s psychic. Because she seemed to know a whole lot ofdetails.”

He swears softly under his breath and waves his hand, indicating he wants to come in, and suddenly I’m backing up, and he’s crossing the threshold, closing the door, leaning back against it, gazing down at me with those stormy gray eyes.

Everything in me comes alive. It’s wrong, wrong, wrong. I cross my arms over my chest. “You think you’re staying now?”

He takes a deep breath. “I thought it was her.”

“What?”

“I thought Sasha wasyou—the caller.”

I frown.Sasha?

“The Hello Morning emails were coming from inside Vossameer,” he says. “I confronted her, and she more or less confessed that she was Operator Seven. And…she inferred a lot from our conversation.”

“Wait.” I widen my eyes. “Sasha pretended to be me? To your face?”

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