Page 51 of Truth or Tequila (Grand Slam 1)

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I texted Sophie after I hung up with Ken to make sure she got back to the room safely. She texted right back—acting like nothing was wrong. I didn’t tell her about Roman’s call. I couldn’t sleep, so I wandered by her door a few times overnight to make sure everything seemed peaceful. At five, I decided to camp outside her door until she came out.

I finally hear her door opening. I jump up and stand to the side a little bit, so I won’t scare her. It doesn’t work.

“Jesus, Seb!” She falls against the door frame. “You scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” I say, grabbing her rolling bag that’s fallen out into the hallway. “I was waiting for you.”

“What? Why? For how long?” She scrunches up her face. “What?”

“Your friend Roman called me last night—”

“Oh my God.” She tries to grab the handle of her bag. I pull it further away from her. “Roman’s crazy. I’m fine.”

“I think both of those things are probably true,” I say, motioning her to go ahead of me toward the elevators, “but I’m here, so I might as well walk with you to the bus.”

“What if someone sees us? They’re going to think we spent the night together.”

“No, they’re not. We just happened to catch the same elevator. We’re good.” I hold the elevator open for her as I roll both of our bags in. “And if you didn’t want Roman to call me, why’d you give him my number?”

“Are you insane? I would never give him your number. He’s way too involved in my life already.”

“How’d he get it then?” I say, laughing.

She covers her eyes and shakes her head. “Roman has his ways. Believe me.”

“Oh, I do. He sounded like someone who could get about anything he needed.”

She looks at me through her fingers. “Just please delete his number and never answer another call from him.”

“Hell no. I already saved it to my favorites and put him on speed dial.”

“Seb—” She’s cut off by the swarm of fans who rush the door when it opens in the lobby.

Joe plows a path right through them. “Where the hell have you been?” he says, grabbing my arm.

He glances at Sophie and then tries to push me through the crowd ahead of him. I don’t move. I turn around and motion Sophie in front of me. She grabs her bag and starts walking toward the bus. I look back down at Joe. He’s glaring at me.

“I’m not paid to protect her,” he snarls.

“You don’t have to protect her because I am.” I glare back at him. “You want to tell me what happened when you walked her to the room last night?”

The rest of the security team has gotten to us. Joe looks up at me and nods toward the bus. I turn around and jog a few steps to catch up to Sophie. I put my hand on her shoulder. She looks up and smiles as I guide her to the bus.

* * *

When we walk onto the plane, Gary Randall’s staring at Sophie. In my eight years with the organization, he’s never flown on the same plane with the team. He has a private jet that I’m sure is much nicer.

“Sophia,” he says, patting the seat next to him, “sit with me.”

I step in front of her. “You know, Gary, I was hoping to have a chat with you, so this is good timing.”

He stares at me as I plop down on the seat across the aisle from him. Sophie walks by and ducks into a seat a couple of rows behind us.

“What have I done to deserve this honor?” Gary says, staring at me warily. “Seb Miller wants to spend time with me. That’s never happened.”

“It’s happening now,” I say, staring back at him. “I understand you hired Sophie to find out who asked for Liza Murray to be kicked out of the clubhouse. I think you already know it was me.”

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