Page 105 of The Billionaire's Fake Fiancée

“Not really.”

I frown. Somebody out there is up to something. I need to know what it is.

Tabitha has a gleam in her eye that tugs on something deep inside of me. “Are you gonna tell him, or should I?”

“Tell me what?” Clark asks, still bent over the keyboard.

“Something about tonight,” she says, now full-on grinning at me behind his back.

“One sec,” he says, tapping a few keys. “Lemme finish this email.”

She pantomimes being a magician pulling an endless scarf out of her sleeve.

I give her a frown that feels like a smile on my face, and she bites her lip. I love her happy. I might be getting addicted to it.

Clark finishes and spins around. “What?”

“Here’s the thing,” I say. “There’s an after-dinner show tonight. A magician.”

“Uh-huh,” he says.

“And I’m afraid you’re going to have to attend,” I tell him.

He straightens. “What?”

“Attend…enthusiastically!” Tabitha adds, and then she does her dramatic wince. It’s practically a full-body wince. “Sorry!”

“Enthusiastically? Why?” Clark rumbles.

“You love magicians. Like looooove them.” She catches my eye, and I smile. Together we explain to Clark about his incredible love for all things magic.

“We need you to sit front and center and really enjoy the show,” I say. “You’ll also be watching Marvin, of course. And letting us know if he leaves at any point. We’re gonna go into his place. I want a look around.”

“And while we’re there, we’ll be grabbing DNA samples to send off to test,” Tabitha adds.

“To test,” Clark says.

“I already have Gail’s,” she says.

Clark turns to me. “You’re not actually going to do this.”

Tabitha puts her hands on her hips. “Rex gives the fake nephew theory a zero point zero one chance of viability. I’m going with more like fifty percent.”

“Fifty now?” I say.

“Forty. But if you average it out between us, that’s what?” she asks. “One in four?”

“Not how it works,” Clark says.

“I’m gonna get ready for dinner.” She disappears into her side of the suite.

I examine the monitor once we’re alone, feeling Clark’s inquiring gaze on me.

Clark has preliminary reports on Marvin up. Nothing suspicious. I ask him a few questions and we run through the weekend data.

“Seems a bit much,” Clark finally says. “The whole breaking and entering bit?”

I scroll through the latest numbers. “Some fiancés do strangely themed 5K races together, others wear matching outfits. We’re pursuing a ridiculous theory.”

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