Page 88 of The Elusive Billionaire
Obviously, he’s done this before.
“Here.”Roman hands me a flask.
We’re only at the ninth hole, and I’m covered in sweat. Not because it’s hot, though it is, but because I’m answering the same inane questions on repeat.
Reluctantly, I take a swig and instantly regret it. “What the hell is this, a snow cone soaked in rubbing alcohol?”
“Nah, watermelon moonshine.”
It’s so unexpected, I laugh. “Didn’t take you for a candy-coated paint-thinner-drink kind of guy.”
“I’m full of surprises, and this shit will knock you on your ass. That’s why I like it. A swig or two is just enough to take the edge off.”
“Thanks,” I say, shaking my head. The Harringtons are definitely full of surprises.
“Who decided where each reporter, and I use that term loosely, would be stationed?”
It’s an odd question to ask, but I take a moment to think about all angles before answering.
“I assume it’s the crisis PR agent, Kristen Richardson. Why?”
Roman has a habit of scanning everything around him as if he’s the FBI. Is it a work-related habit, or is he a paranoid fuck?
“It appears to me the most…aggressive aren’t assigned to any particular hole but are chasing down cart girls.”
Something hot and uncomfortable rushes in my veins. “How do you know that?”
Roman smiles, and now I can see how easily he can transform into the type of billionaire the tabloids love, except now I know he uses it as a mask.
“I’m in the business of safety, Grey. My clients’ and my family’s. You think I’d be here if I didn’t strategically place my guys all over the course?” He removes something from his ear—it’s no bigger than the tip of an eraser—shows it to me, then replaces it. “My intel says the people questioning your fiancéeare mostly disgruntled employees you let go when you shut down The Whisperloop.”
The Whisperloop was Braxton’s adoptive father’s media company that spread lies like gasoline on a fire.
I stare at him for a beat longer than necessary, but I can’t think of a single reason he’d lie about something like this.
“You want something,” I say as I pull my phone from my pocket. “What is it?”
Pulling up Savvy’s contact, I type out a text message.
Me: Are you okay? Do you need more security?
“I simply want you to keep an open mind about my family and keep us at the top of your list should the need ever arise.”
“The need for what?” I’m distracted as I wait for those three little dots to appear, telling me Savvy is replying to my message.
“Security,” Roman answers without a hint of emotion. “Personal, business, cyber. We do it all. And…we have a vested interest in what happens here in Happiness.”
That gets my attention. “Why is that?”
“It’s…” He pauses as though he’s listening to something I can’t hear. “A family matter, and not my story to tell. But I give you my word, we have no ill will or negativity toward you or your family. We simply need time.”
“I don’t respond to riddles, Roman.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m freely giving you information to do with what you will, and all I ask is that you keep an open mind and consider our expertise should the need ever arise. Now I know this is your event and all, but I think we should skip the next hole and find cart number four.”
I glance up at Brax and Grant giving each other shit at the tee, then back at Roman.
“Fuck it,” I say, pressing on the accelerator so our golf cart lurches forward. “Where is she?”
