Page 87 of Mexico Can Choke On It
The door swings open behind me.Shit.
I’m about to dive into the coat closet and pretend to be a very unconvincing jacket when… Bryce steps in.
“Thank you for helping me locate her.”
My heart starts doing that fluttery dance. I slow my breathing, trying to rein it in.
“You’re sneaking into your brother’s room. Do I want to know?” he asks, shutting the door.
I lift my chin, defiant. “Technically, so are you.”
“I caught the intruder. That makes me the hero of this story.”
His mouth quirks up, that almost-smile.Stop. Staring. At. His. Lips.
“Well, don’t get too excited about pressing charges. Turns out I’m a shitty spy. I can’t even guess his damn password.”
“Is this some good-natured sisterly snooping, or should I be prepping for a court subpoena?”
“Shh. Don’t ruin the surprise. You and my brother have never been to prison before, right?”
Bryce steps up to the laptop, and his fingers fly across the keyboard. The screen unlocks immediately.
“You know his password?”
“You do too.” He glances at me with impossibly blue eyes. “It’s your birthday.”
The words are a punch to the sternum.My birthday?The workaholic, perfectionist older brother uses my birthday as his computer password.
“Well, shit. Way to pour on the guilt, Moneybags.”
“Just pointing out that he loves you.”
“Yeah,conditionallove. The ‘be a good girl and jump through the flaming money hoops’ kind of love.”
“Care to explain what you’re hunting for? We both know Gavin wouldn’t want you poking around.”
“Look at you, all suspicious and detective-y.”
Bryce levels me with an intense stare. “Pip.”
I roll my eyes, refusing to let him rattle me. “That stern billionaire glare loses some of its intimidating factor when you’re dressed like a retired surfer.”
“I’ll have you know this ensemble is quite liberating.”
I’m about to deliver a scathing comeback when I catch a detail on the screen—an email from Gavin’s lawyer.
The subject line reads:Whitfield-Brinkman Prenuptial Agreement - Pending Items.
“Their prenup?” Bryce reads over my shoulder. “First you suspect Fiona is having an affair, and now—”
Suddenly, we hear Gavin’s voice echoing through the corridor, growing louder. He’s on a call, and even through the closed door, his words are loud and commanding.
“Shit!” I slam the laptop shut right as footsteps settle by the door.
Without thinking, I grab Bryce’s arm and yank him toward the small coat closet. I shove him inside as the electronic beep indicates the door is unlocking.
I spot my sun hat sitting on the table like a giant “Petra was here” beacon.
