Page 157 of Triplet Trouble For My Billionaire Boss

I step inside right behind her and push the door shut behind me—not hard, but enough to make sure she knows I’m serious. She freezes for a split second before spinning around, arms crossed tight over her chest.

“What the hell, Cole?”

“What the hell you?” I shoot back, matching her stance. “You just brushed me off and walked away—again.”

She exhales, sharp and frustrated, then pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Too bad,” I say, voice low and steady. “Because I am.”

She glares at me, her blue eyes flashing. “You just have to push, don’t you?”

“Damn right I do.” I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “You think I’m just gonna stand there and watch you shut me out?”

“I’m not shutting you out,” she snaps, but there’s a defensive edge to her voice that tells me she knows she’s lying.

I let out a humorless laugh. “Right. So we’re just playing some game where you act like a completely different person all day, and I pretend not to notice?”

“I haven’t been acting like a different person,” she argues, throwing up her hands.

“Bullshit,” I counter immediately. “You’ve barely looked at me since we got back. You hardly ate at dinner. You spent the whole night pretending to have fun with Robbie while avoiding my damn existence.”

She clenches her jaw, her nostrils flaring slightly as she exhales through her nose.

I take another step toward her, lowering my voice, and ask gently, “Annie, if this is about last night—”

“It’s not about last night,” she says quickly, her expression twisting like the thought actually annoys her.

I narrow my eyes. “Then what the hell is going on?”

She presses her lips together, looking away, and I can practically see the battle going on in her head. She wants to tell me. She doesn’t want to tell me.

Her fingers flex against her arms, like she’s physically holding herself back.

I wait.

And then, after a long pause, she blows out a breath and says, voice clipped and annoyed, “You really want to know what’s going on?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer.

She pushes past me—again—but this time, I don’t stop her. I watch as she strides straight into the bathroom and disappears inside.

What the hell?

I rake a hand through my hair, my frustration mounting as I hear her moving around in there. A few seconds later, she emerges… holding the small trash bin from under the bathroom sink.

My frustration pauses—briefly—because now I’m just confused.

I stare at her. Then at the trash bin. Then back at her.

“Wh… What?”

She doesn’t answer.

She just walks straight past me again, this time toward the little chest at the foot of her bed, where she sets the bin down like it’s somegrand reveal.

I blink at it.

Then at her.

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