Page 129 of Perfect Pitch

Beckett ignores me entirely when he stops in front of Kane. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The air in the SUV on the way back to Beckett’s is filled with tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife.

I can feel Beckett’s eyes boring holes in the back of my skull. I know the confrontation we’re about to have isn’t going to be pleasant. But the one thing he won’t convince me to do is to give up Austyn.

“No way,” I mutter.

“Did you say something you want to share with the rest of us, Clifton?” comes the dangerous purr of Beckett’s voice from the backseat.

“No,” I answer immediately.

Kane shakes his head imperceptibly before it drops. Seconds later, my wrist buzzes with an incoming text.

Kane:

Are you crazy prodding the savage beast?

My breath whistles out between my teeth because there’s every chance I may not be employed by the time this night’s over. But you protected Austyn, I think to myself. Without hesitation, I lift my eyes to the rearview mirror and find Beckett’s gaze locked on me behind his shades.

We pull up into the circle in front of the building. Kane and Chin slide from the vehicle. Beckett starts to move but then stops. He snaps, “Clifton? Thirty minutes. My place.”

Kane leans in and hisses, “I told you not to run in when you heard that scream.”

Then before I can respond affirmatively whether I’ll actually be there, he slams the door behind him.

Seconds later, a text pops up from Austyn. I brace myself before reading it.

Austyn:

I really need you tonight. Please tell me you can still make it.

I send one back to her.

Mitch:

Same goes, Beats. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

Then I park the SUV in the underground garage and prepare for my confrontation with my woman’s father because I’m sure as hell not about to confront my boss.

Not over Austyn.

* * *

CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

Do you think Beckett Miller goes on Santa’s naughty or nice list? I know where he should go! Right in the middle—of my bed, that is.

—Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle

The elevator comes to a smooth stop. I step off and find Beckett leaning against his door taking a pull from a dark glass bottle. Once he swallows, he tips the end in my direction. “Want one?”

“I’m driving later,” I turn down his request.

“I’m not going...” He stops short when he realizes what I’m saying. “Austyn. You’re going to see my daughter.”

I take stock of his haggard appearance. No one would believe the man who shed his suit jacket and tie in the foyer, ripped his shirt from his pants, and has his hair standing on end, is the same man declared as Sexy & Socials “Sexiest Man Alive.” Right now, he looks exactly like what he is—a concerned father. Hoping to reassure him, I say, “No, Beckett. I’m seeing the woman I’m falling for.”

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