Page 7 of Trust Me

I wouldn’t put it past them. Any multibillion-dollar family has enough skeletons in their closet to fill a graveyard. And the last thing I want to do is get near any of those spoiled, trust fund types.

A shudder runs through my body just thinking about having to be near someone like that again. Given my history, I’ve found they’re not all that smart and are pretty easy to manipulate if you know what you’re doing.

However, my first encounter with Kyle Townsend hadn’t proved as easy as I’d hoped. I run over my short but informative interaction with Kyle Townsend. I had a difficult time finding much information on him. Aside from a few mentions he graduated from university after only two years and immediately went to work for Townsend Industries, there wasn’t much.

He no doubt graduated early because of daddy’s money, just like most other kids born with silver spoons in their mouths. Unlike many of his spoiled brat contemporaries, he didn't splash his comings and goings all over the society pages. There weren’t any mentions of relationships or who he was dating, if anyone.

Even the few articles that mentioned his name didn’t go into much detail about him or any of the other Townsend beneficiaries. That told me a lot. Kyle keeps a tight rein on his image. From what I saw tonight, the man is a control freak.

His expression barely changed throughout the duration of our exchange. There was a fleeting moment in which his hazel eye flickered with interest. The comment in which I mentioned his dick. Thinking about that causes my mind to fill with the image of him. He’s tall. Probably around six-two or six-three, light, sand-brown skin due to his biracial heritage, and hazel eyes that look right through you.

“We’re here, miss.” The Uber driver’s words jolt me out of my musings.

“Thank you,” I tell him as I slide out of the car. I push away the weird direction my mind started to go regarding Kyle Townsend.

He’s just another mark,I remind myself as I enter my home. Over the course of my life, I’ve had dozens of marks. Hard not to when my father had me peddling scams to unsuspecting widows by the time I was three years old.

Kyle Townsend is one last job I have to do in order to get out of this fucking bind with Dean Walsh. I’ll have to figure out how to ensure Walsh doesn’t return for more once this job is done. That’s a bridge I will cross once I get to it. My first objective is to keep my ass out of prison by finding my way into Townsend Industries.

I run my hand across my forehead as a dull pain starts behind my eyes.

“No.” I shake my head, knowing I don’t have time for one of my migraines. I head straight to the medicine cabinet in my bathroom and pull out my prescription for this occasion.

After downing the pills and an entire bottle of water, I kick off my shoes in my bedroom, strip out of my dress, and toss myself onto the bed. I start to figure out another plan to interact with Kyle outside of Townsend Industries, but my phone rings.

Despite my predicament, I happily answer.

“Hey, Ladybug.” I beam, my mood starting to shift already.

“Hi, Aunt Ry.”

“It’s late for you, isn’t it?” It was almost one in the morning in Williamsport. Eve’s boarding school was back East, which meant it was even later for her.

“I couldn’t sleep, and you said that anytime I can’t sleep to call you.”

“I meant it, too. Why can’t you sleep?”

“I have another test tomorrow, and I don’t think I’ve studied enough.”

I open my mouth to remind her that taking a break is okay. She’s only in the sixth grade. It scares me to think about what she’ll be like in high school or college. The boarding school she attends is very rigorous, but from her grades, she has no problem keeping up.

Instead, I tell her, “You and your big brain worry too much. You’ve probably studied your entire heart out. You’re going to ace that history exam.”

“You remembered it was for my history class?”

“How could I forget? You missed my call two times this week because you were studying.”

My niece, Eve, is a certified genius. Well, almost. She’s in like the top percent for her age in math, science, and all that technical stuff. She does complex equations in her freaking sleep, which is why she attends one of the top boarding schools in the country.

She’s not as great with social sciences like history, social studies, etc. Thus, she studies twice as hard in those subjects, even though I always warn her about tiring herself out.

I couldn’t be prouder of her. Though I hate that she’s so far, my main desire is to give her the best of everything.

She giggles. “Sorry, Aunt Ry. They don’t like us to be on our phones in the library.”

“You’re so studious. Complete opposite of me when I was your age.” I wasn’t terrible at school. However, keeping up your grades is hard when your father drags you from one state to another.

“Have you talked to my dad?” she asks suddenly.

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