Page 45 of Faking it with the Billionaire
He could have any girl.
And I’m not the girl NHL players chase after or fantasize about. I’m lucky he even suggested we fake date. Not that I feel very lucky. Our schedules mean we barely cross paths with one another. When he’s home, he’s practicing every day with the guys or at the gym training.
His schedule is rigorous, and Lia seems a bit confused about why I’m always around, but she hasn’t said anything to suggest that I shouldn’t be accompanying Bristol to the park or at home when she returns from school.
I corner Kyler late after one of his games when he rolls in smelling clean, like almond soap. I’m sure he had a shower after his match, but the scent rolls off him, and I can’t help but take a step closer, wanting to breathe him in.
“We need to talk,” I say.
He laughs half-heartedly like he’s nervous.
Do I make him nervous?
“Nothing good ever comes from those four words,” he says.
“What’s really going on between you and the owner?”
He drops his bag at his feet and cocks a grin. Like whatever he’d been caught doing went unnoticed, and he’s relieved by my line of questioning. What am I missing?
“He’s a dickwad. You met him. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Kyler isn’t wrong, but I don’t think that’s why he’s playing the fake relationship angle. “You’re a billionaire. Why do you care so much about the contract to play forhisteam? You could play anywhere. Hell, you could buy your own team!”
He glares at me to keep my voice down and grabs my arm, dragging me with him into the library. He flips on the light and shuts the door behind us.
Is he really that worried that his daughter or the nanny might overhear the conversation?
“Money isn’t everything, Ryan.”
I bite down on my bottom lip. “Of course, it’s not. But it helps. What’s going on?”
Why the hell is he referring to me by my last name? It’s impersonal, like he’s trying to add more distance between us when we’re just inches apart. He drops his hold on my arm, and I let out a soft sigh, disappointed for the break in contact.
I shouldn’t care that he isn’t touching me.
This relationship is one hundred percent fake.
He doesn’t want me.
He could never want someone like me.
“Tell me I’m wrong, that you’re not a billionaire,” I say.
He shuffles his feet, staring down at the floor. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“How so?” I push the issue, wanting to know what the hell he means. I’ve seen his net worth when the Eagle Tactical guys dug around to make sure there weren’t any skeletons in Greyson’s closet.
“I don’t want it. I’m giving it all away.”
I cough, clearing my throat. He can’t be serious. “You’re what?”
He glances up at me, his eyes darkened and fueled with passion. “I don’t deserve a cent of it, so I’m giving it away.”
“To whom?” I can’t believe him. Why didn’t Jaxson or one of the other guys tell me when they ran background on him?
“Does it matter?”
“It does if you’re being blackmailed.” Why else would he have handed over more than seven figures?
