Page 47 of Faking it with the Billionaire
He huffs, and his nostrils flare. “You haven’t seen what that money can do, Ryan. How it tears people apart.”
I step closer, reaching for his hand. My fingers tangle with his. “Your parents were already deceased when you chose to invest that money. It was yours,” I say, reminding him that he wasn’t stealing something that didn’t belong to him.
“I know, but I was also seeing someone, and she became interested in what I could buy her, a car, a penthouse suite, anything she could get her hands on made her magically tell meI love you. It was disgusting.”
“They have a name for that, gold digger.”
“But she wasn’t like that when we started dating. She was actually really good with Bristol and helped me change diapers and was there for me—”
“Until she wasn’t,” I say, cutting him off. “Any chance she could be holding resentment? Could she be behind the threats to Bristol?”
“She’d never hurt my daughter. Bristol was like a daughter to her.” He pulls away from me and opens one of the books, retrieving a half-torn piece of paper with a note written in blue ink. “This isn’t in her handwriting, but it’s the reason I need you to keep Bristol safe.”
Kyler,
Make one wrong move, and your little Bristol will meet the same fate as your parents. Lose the next six games, or pick out a casket for your little one.
X
I inhale a sharp breath. “How long have you had this note? Why the hell didn’t you show it to the security team you hired or to me?”
“It was only six games. I couldn’t take a chance that someone would hurt Bristol.” He folds his arms across his chest. “We play eighty-two regular games a season unless we make the playoffs. Losing six sucks, but it wasn’t going to kill our record.”
“Until they ask you to lose more.” I study the lettering, the note, and the way the pen bleeds against the paper. Someone took their time penning such a simple threat as if they were trying to disguise their handwriting. “It makes sense that the mafia would be behind something like this,” I say.
“Why, because they’re involved in illegal activities like gambling?” Kyler doesn’t look nearly as convinced. “We still have dinner with the Morettis coming up, and I doubt either one of them has ever seen a hockey game in their life.”
“Doesn’t mean they don’t run a gambling ring and want to ensure they’re keeping the odds in their favor. Is this the only threat that you’ve had against Bristol?” I wave the paper at him, still dumbfounded that he kept this from me. By now, he’s played dozens of games, and he’s lost more than half of them. I can’t help but wonder if it’s been on purpose.
“There may have been more. I burned them,” he says, glancing away from me.
“How many more?”
“There’s practically a new one every week, instructing me to throw specific games.”
“And you’ve been following through with his orders? How am I supposed to help you if you’re keeping secrets from me, Greyson?”
“I didn’t ask for your help. I hired you to keep my daughter safe in case this wanker decides to go after Bristol even though I’ve followed his orders.”
“You could get kicked out of the NHL if anyone knew what you were doing.”
Kyler steps closer, backing me up against the wall. “No one can find out. If you tell anyone, Ryan, we’re done. You won’t get a cent.”
“You think that’s all this is to me? Money? I’m trying to protect Bristol. I can’t do that if you’re not honest with me. Jackass,” I mutter, smacking him on the arm as I push him out of the way and storm out of the library.
“We’re not done, Ryan,” he says, calling after me, expecting me to do as he pleases.
Well, he’s got another thing coming if he expects me to fall in line like his teammates. He may be the captain of his team, but he’s not bossing me around.
“We’re done.” I storm out of the library, and he grabs my wrist, pulling me back to face him. His hands land on my hips, keeping me from moving out of his grasp.
If I really wanted to slip from him, a swift kick to his groin would have him toppling to the floor. But I don’t feel threatened by his presence. He wouldn’t hurt me.
“This isn’t over,” he says, his gaze darkened and his grip rough against my skin. “You don’t get to walk away from me because you don’t agree with what I’m saying.”
“I’m pissed that you are more concerned with keeping secrets from me than letting me protect your daughter. All this time, I could have been helping look into the threats. Instead, I’ve been going at this like the only real threat is the mafia!”
“I’m sorry. I should have told you—”
