Page 79 of Enticing the Fixer

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes rake over me. “Are you hurt? Your message was cryptic.”

“I’m fine.” I sag into the cushions and soak up the heat coming from the vents and leather seats. Bucket list–purchase a vehicle with heated and air-conditioned seats. Because there’s nothing worse than your thighs sticking to the seat in the summer.

Why am I thinking about skin sticking to seats?

Because I don’t want to think about myemployee. Yes, that’s all he is. I don’t want to think about myemployeeand grabbing a hot poker and shoving it up my nose to give myself an at-home lobotomy seems excessive.

“What’s going on?”

I shiver and fold my arms over my chest. “Drive me to my car.”

“Fine,” she growls, hauls the gearshift into drive, and maneuvers to the spot behind my vehicle.

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, I need to be alone, and I didn’t want to return to the office to get my keys. I’ll stop by later.”

“I’ll be at the shop until late. We’re doing inventory.”

“Perfect.” I nod, open the door, and step onto the pavement. The low rumble of thunder vibrates the metal under my palm. “I’ll be by in a couple of hours.”

She nods and waits for me to shut the door while rolling down the passenger window. “We’ll fix whatever is broken.”

“Thank you.” I spin away to keep from getting melancholy. At least I did one thing right in my life. I have an awesome cousin and best friend.

I speed down the side street while rotating my shoulders. The pain shooting through my back and neck has every inch of my body aching. I lower my shoulders to ease some of the tension.

How can I ever see Leo again? He lied to me. Nausea rolls in my gut.

Go. Disappear. Leave it all behind.

Between Leo’s betrayal, my father’s death, and the board’s quest to overtake me, it feels like someone is repeatedly kicking me in the sternum. If I had nuts, that’s where they’d firmly be shoved.

Why didn’t he tell me who he was? Was everything a joke? A game? He’s a liar. A fraud. And for what? A bet? My knuckles bleed white through my skin. How dare he fuck me to get an extra 400k.

The streetlight in front of me turns red, and I stomp on the brakes, skidding a few feet on the wet pavement. Okay. Fine. I might fuck someone for 400k. I tap my fingertips on the steering wheel. Would I have screwed Leo for 400k?

“God,” I groan into the quiet interior. I might not stay in a haunted mansion for a night for 400k, but I’d have had sex with Leo. Hell, I had sex with him for free.

Why did he do it?

He knew who I was before we met at the bar. That’s the only thing that makes sense. He was with Truman. What’s the likelihood Truman didn’t divulge I was the interim CFO of Monroe Pharmaceutical? Slim to none.

So he found an easy way to investigate me. Get past my defenses. If I was too busy having orgasms, I wouldn’t have time to figure out who was setting me up. Now it’s too late, and tomorrow, they’re forcing my hand.

When I pull into the cemetery, I inhale deeply and will my fingers one by one to let go of their death grip on the steering wheel.

I blink. The cemetery. How did I end up here? I ease into the driveway and follow the path to my father’s grave. This wasn’t my intended destination, but it makes sense I’d end up here. He’s one of the few people who can’t stab me in the back.

The raindrops plop on the hard clods of dirt, now mud, that covers my father’s casket. Did someone kill him? Or was it only a case of bad timing? Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe someone wants me to overreact, so I’m distracted.

Bad things can happen to anyone. I don’t go out drinking. I don’t go to the bar. I don’t proposition men I just met. Yet, I did. There is all the evidence I need that bad shit happens.

Ring. Buzz.My cell phone rings. I pull it out of my jeans pocket.Leo.I don’t want to hear anything he has to say. I push the button until the screen goes black and toss it on the empty passenger seat. He’s the last person I want to talk to.

My cell phone mocks me with its information. “Fine,” I growl, grab the offending object off the cushion, turn it back on, and type in his name. I might not want to talk to him, but I need to know who he is.

Moments later, I’m inundated with information. Brilliant attorney. Photographic mind. Stunningly handsome.The Four Horsemen and The Hand of God.Who calls themselves that? Pigheaded idiots.

The next headline reads–Leo Radcliff’s Ex-Girlfriend’s Social Media Accounts Deleted, followed by a blurred-out image of his ass in a mirror.

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