Page 66

“Who?” I ask, confused.
“Louis, Asher, and Josh,” he confirms.
I press my fingers against the bridge of my nose. “Is this a joke?”
“Nope.” He chuckles sarcastically. “You’re the centerpiece of their game. Don’t you see? You’re not Asher’s opponent; you’re the prize.” Weston kicks his feet up on the desk. “After digging deeper, I’d bet money on it.”
Just then, Easton enters, holding a tablet. He hands it to me and leans against the desk, watching intently. “Explain this.”
I swipe through photos of Asher and me at the coffee shop thirty minutes ago. Our conversation is captured in a series of still frames. We look like a couple, sneaking a coffee date. If I swipe fast enough, it almost plays like a movie.
“What is it?” Weston asks, intrigued, leaning forward to get a better look.
I pass him the tablet, and his eyes widen in surprise.
“What is wrong with everyone?” I ask. “Why do you all give me the same reaction?”
Weston zooms in on a photo. It’s from when our faces were just inches apart. I’ll never forget what he said about me eye-fucking him instead of Louis. He saw right through me.
“Are you and Asher secretly working together?” Easton asks.
“Nothing’s going on between us. I was there first; he showed up and wouldn’t leave me alone. That’s it. We’re not conspiring.”
Weston chuckles, swiping through more photos.
I glare at him. “What?”
“I can only imagine what he said to get you to give him that look. Shit. Deadly. You look just like Mom in that one.”
Easton sighs, clearly uncomfortable with any family drama. Hehates the extra attention, and I get it—I feel the same way. It’s why I’ve stayed elusive over the years. The less the world knows about me, the better. It’s been that way since I was a kid.
“Hmm,” Easton says, a thoughtful look crossing his face.
“What?” I ask, instantly recognizing that cocky expression.
“I think Asher’s helping you in some weird, fucked-up way,” he says, nodding. “He’s leading you to water.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I shake my head.
He knew Josh had cheated and still agreed to work with him. Only someone who truly hated me would do something so low.
“Anyway, I believe Bellamore will be fine. I’ve been working on different ideas, and I’m on the brink of something big,” I explain.
“He’d better not hurt you.” Easton adopts his CEO, big-brother voice. “I will fuck him up.”
He and Weston do that twin thing where they communicate without speaking. It used to annoy me as a kid.
“I’ve already told Ash—” Weston starts, but stops mid-sentence when the door behind me swings open.
A stunning woman with reddish-brown hair strides in, wearing a vintage Chanel pantsuit and high heels. If I had to guess, it’s from the 1996 collection. It fits her perfectly, and her fierce red lipstick completes the look. She enters, exuding a confidence that I wish I had.
Easton stands to greet her with a firm handshake. She offers him a gentle hello before turning her full attention to me.
“This is Stormy,” Weston says with a mischievous grin.
She approaches me without a care in the world, extending her perfectly manicured hand. She clearly has money, evident from the $800,000 diamond bracelet dangling on her wrist. Less than fifty of those were ever made.
“Nice to meet you, Billie. I’m your secret weapon and corporate fairy godmother.”