Page 56 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

I don’t know if I’d be able to eat anyway, but I think I think it’s a nice distraction.

There’s a knot in my stomach that refuses to untangle itself. The man we caught—the one who security dragged out in handcuffs—it should’ve been over. We should be celebrating, right?

But something doesn’t feel right.

There’s a tension in the air that I can’t shake. Theo hasn’t talked about it, but I know he’s feeling the same thing.

I can tell by how he keeps glancing at the room phone like he’s waiting for it to explode, the tightness in his jaw that never seems to ease.

We’ve been up here for hours; they should have told us something by now. It should all be over, right?

Did they go old school and are torturing him before they remove him from the premises?

I shake my head and try to get rid of the thought as I picture Devon as Bruce Willis while he’s waterboarding some dirty criminal.

I chuckle to myself before letting out a long breath.

“Is there tea, at least?” I murmur.

I get up from the couch and make my way to the tiny kitchen, hoping a cup of tea will soothe me at least a little. I glance back at Theo.

He’s standing by the window, his hand in his pocket, staring out over the city with a clenched jaw. The whole thing just feels… off.

The security guard is directly in front of the door, hands clasped in front of him as if he’s protecting the president and not little old me.

At least he takes his job seriously.

Score! There’s tea.

Thank goodness the hotel left a little complimentary basket in the room. It’s a lifesaver right now.

It’s not that I like tea particularly or that I even want it. The act of making it is what I need. A distraction in the details so that I can think of anything other than the crazy dramatic things that are slamming through my brain.

The kettle starts to whistle, cutting through the silence, but the security guard's phone rings before I can pour the water.

We all stiffen immediately. Theo rushes over to him. The security guard’s hand takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Tad," he mutters, his voice low and controlled.

He presses the phone to his ear, and I watch as the muscles in his back tense even further.

I abandon the tea and walk toward him, my heart beating faster as I listen in, trying to make sense of the one-sided conversation. The security guard hands the phone to Theo.

"What do you mean, it wasn’t him?" Theo’s voice drops, and the way he says those words makes it feel like the floor just disappeared from under me.

I freeze.

Wasn’t him?

Theo’s eyes darken, and he turns away from the window, pacing back toward me without even realizing it. "Explain," he snaps into the phone.

I step closer, every nerve in my body on high alert. I can hear a faint voice on the other end of the line but can’t make out the words. Whatever Tad is telling him, it’s not good.

"The jacket?" Theo’s voice cracks, and I can see the rage building behind his usually controlled exterior. "What the hell are you talking about?"

I move in closer, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. His eyes lock on mine for a brief second, and in that look, I can see everything—anger, frustration, disbelief.

And fear.

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