Page 48 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

By mid-afternoon, Eva’s actions confirm what I’ve been suspecting. She’s hiding something. Watching her step into the elevator without a word sends my already-frayed nerves into overdrive.

Sliding into my car, I track her phone’s location, following her to the Blue Horizon Café. Her silhouette against the windowpane sends an ache of frustration and something else—something deeper—through me.

As I watch the man approach her, his polished demeanor screams trouble. My instincts are rarely wrong, and they’re telling me this is no ordinary meeting.

I step into the café, crossing the threshold between distance and confrontation.

Her gaze locks on mine, surprise flickering before being replaced by frustration.

The man stands, offering a polished smile. “Dominic Kane. I wasn’t expecting company.”

His calculated ease only heightens my resolve.

“What exactly are you delivering?” I ask, my voice cold and cutting.

The man gestures to the folder, his smirk slipping. “Answers.”

The storm brewing between us swells, the implications in that single word threatening to unravel everything. I won’t let it.

Not without a fight.

The air in the café thickens as Vincent walks away, leaving Eva and me at the small table near the window. The sound of his polished shoes clicking against the floor lingers in my ears like a clock ticking down to something inevitable.

I glance at Eva, her eyes still locked on the folder lying on the table. Her lips press together in a thin line, and her fingers twitch, as if she’s debating whether to reach for the answers—or the chaos—inside.

“Open it,” I say, my voice low and even.

She doesn’t flinch, but I can see the tension in her shoulders as she picks up the folder. The weight of it is metaphorical and literal, and I can feel the air shift between us as she hesitates.

“What if it’s a trap?” she asks, glancing at me, her voice unsteady.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” I reply firmly. “But we need to know what’s in there.”

With a deep breath, Eva flips open the folder, her eyes scanning the first page. Her expression hardens as she reads, her jaw tightening with each passing second.

“What is it?” I press, leaning closer.

“It’s a detailed list of accounts,” she says, flipping to the next page. “Transfers, investments, offshore holdings. All linked to Conrad—and Mercer.”

I reach for the folder, my pulse quickening as I scan the documents. The evidence is damning, a breadcrumb trail that leads directly to Kane Enterprises’ enemies. But it’s the final page that stops me cold.

My name is on it.

“Dammit,” I mutter, my grip tightening on the paper.

Eva leans over, her eyes darting across the page. “They’re tying you to this,” she says, her voice trembling with anger. “They’re making it look like you were funneling money through these accounts.”

The accusation stings, even though it’s false. “They’re building a narrative,” I say through gritted teeth. “One that ends with me taking the fall.”

“Not just you,” Eva whispers, flipping to the back of the folder. She pulls out a smaller slip of paper—a photo of us together, taken outside the penthouse.

My stomach drops.

“They’re watching us,” she says, her voice barely audible.

I meet her gaze, my chest tightening at the fear lurking behind her anger. I reach out, placing a hand over hers. “We’ll handle this,” I promise, though the weight of the situation makes my words feel hollow.

Eva pulls her hand away, standing abruptly. “We need to get out of here,” she says, her voice steadying. “If they’re watching, staying here makes us vulnerable.”

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