Page 66 of It's Not All Fake

I don’t even fucking know what Liam is to me, or what he wants, or what I want.

My thoughts start making me dizzy again, so I decide to focus on one thing at a time. Go through the motions.

Standing up from the couch, I intend to change my outfit and put on some makeup. I shouldn’t miss this party. I need a distraction.

Plus, Ashley has wanted to meet up with friends for a bonfire for weeks, and we finally got it scheduled. I invited Liam as my date when we were blissfully happy on our weekend yacht cruise before everything hit the fan.

Just as I’m about to head to my bedroom, my phone chimes with a text message.

I pull it out, expecting something from Ashley, maybe Liam.

But my heart seizes when I see the text.

How’s dating a billionaire?

It’s Lucas.

His name on my screen makes my skin crawl.

I collapse back onto the couch, questions flooding my mind. Why does he care about Liam? And is he the fucking scumbag who stole my files?

It has to be him.

I know I should ignore him and move on with my evening, but I can’t. I want answers.

So, I decide to ask him the most basic question—I don’t want to accuse him of anything just yet.

Why are you texting me?

My heart drums in my ears as I watch the text bubbles moving as he types.

Let’s meet to talk and skip the legal bullshit.

He wants to talk. What’s his game? I know I shouldn’t talk with cybercriminals or crazy ex-boyfriends, but I want this to end. Desperately.

Maybe he does too.

Okay. When?

I release a tense breath, feeling mostly confident in my decision to accept his invitation to talk. I’m going to handle this shit myself.

I sit there in silence, thinking, hoping maybe this can all go away. He just wants his money, and I can give it to him. This can all go away.

Without warning, a loud knock startles me from my thoughts. My body jolts up and I can feel the blood draining from my face.

Is Lucas here? What the fuck?

There are no windows for me to peek through and see who's at the door. Frozen in place, my eyes fixate on the door, straining to hear any faint noise coming from outside.

I know someone is there, listening for me just like I am for them. My heart races, and it feels like I've been dropped into a horror movie. Is Lucas stalking me now, too?

“Let me in, Chloe,” a rough voice demands. It’s Lucas. He sounds impatient.

Surprisingly, I feel relieved that he’s the one behind the door. As he knocks again, I can sense the desperation. Maybe I can get the upper hand here. The text message prelude to his unannounced visit was creepy as fuck, but now he’s here and maybe we can fix this. This is my chance to take control of the situation.

With newfound confidence, I stride over to the door and pull it open. “Come in,” I say, managing to keep my tone casual.

Lucas gives me a sly grin and strolls across the threshold, an odor of alcohol hitting me as he enters.

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