Page 48 of Faking it with the Billionaire
“Save it.” I hold up a hand, not ready to hear his apology. “You’re right. You owe me the respect of being honest. If you want me to protect Bristol, I need to know everything.”
He nods slowly and takes a step back, releasing his hold on me.
“Do you have any other threats that you’ve saved? Anything on your cell phone?” I ask, waving the piece of paper at him.
“Just that one note is all that I kept.”
“And how are they being delivered?” They mustn’t be coming to the house, or else the security cameras would have captured the footage.
“They’re always hand-delivered to my private mailbox at the arena.”
“They must be sent via courier unless it’s someone on the inside—”
“It’s not,” he answers a little too quickly. “My teammates would never threaten my daughter, nor would anyone else I conduct business with, and I’ve tried the courier angle.”
“What do you suggest? Threats don’t arrive by carrier pigeon.”
He huffs, not pleased with my brand of snarkiness. “There are hundreds, if not thousands, of employees who have access to our mailboxes. Nothing is locked, it’s all open and available for anyone to tamper with, and there aren’t any cameras. I’ve checked.”
“Someone knows how to play detective,” I mock.
His lips land hard on mine, crashing against my mouth, silencing me. I open my lips to protest, and he only takes it as further encouragement, his tongue pushing its way inside.
Kyler’s hands graze my hip, pulling me closer, the pads of his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt, grazing my bare skin as he inches the material higher.
Fuck, the man knows how to kiss.
His lips move a path down my neck, sucking the sensitive skin that drives me absolutely weak at the knees.
“Stop,” I say, and it’s the only word he needs to hear. He yanks himself back, blinking down at me, his breathing heavy and ragged.
“Shit,” he mutters, taking a step back. He runs a hand through his hair, flustered. “I didn’t mean to take advantage—” His face reddens, and he backs himself against the wall, trying to get as far away from me as possible.
“You didn’t,” I assure him. He’s not Brad. He’s never done anything to hurt me or force me into anything I’m uncomfortable with. And he stopped the moment I told him to, but he’s also my boss. I work for him. “But this isn’t going to happen, Greyson.”
I need to put up a wall between us, making it clear that this can’t occur unless it’s part of the job, pretending to be in love.
Because if we keep kissing, it won’t be pretending. Not for me.
“Right.” He shakes his head like he’s clearing the cobwebs. “No audience. No making out. My mistake.” He takes a step this time for the door, like I’m fire, and he’s too close to getting burned by the roaring flames.
Before I can say anything further, he’s out of the library, down the hall, and gone. He hasn’t left the house. The cameras haven’t alerted me that anyone has come or gone from the residence, which means he’s probably up in bed, which is where I should be.
My own bedroom.
But I’m not tired.
Kyler has a way of making me wide awake at the most inopportune times. I’ll have to be up early tomorrow to investigate the note and figure out who might have a grudge against Greyson. The threats could be anyone, from some mobster running a gambling ring to an addict trying to get rich by betting on Greyson’s team losing a game.
Did I mention I hate hockey?
THIRTEEN
KYLER
Emerson is avoiding me.Is it because I kissed her while we were arguing, or because she’s pissed at me for hiding the stupid letter?
She’s asleep, or at least in the shower, every time I try to get a word with her, but it’s near impossible to get a moment alone with her. And Lia isn’t exactly helping. She’s been going to Emerson for advice on what to make for dinner or if she should take Bristol to the park after school today.
