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“Are you just going to ask the same questions as me?”

“Depends. Yours have been quite insightful so far.”

“I had a polar bear. But I couldn’t say polar, so I called him Pillow Bear.”

Imaging a small dark-haired boy with his thumb in his mouth and his polar bear tucked under his arm, my mouth tilts up. I can imagine another little one running around our feet, joyfully clutching his own stuffed polar bear. Austin picks him up and swings him around as he reaches for me.

Good god. Lock this down, you maniac.

“Are you missing Pillow Bear? I’m sure I can find something to keep you company at night.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I inhale. That one was a hundred percent not on purpose.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you said it, not me. I have certainly been missing something to hold at night.”

Oh god, does he have a girlfriend? How had I not even considered this? Of course he does. He’s gorgeous, filthy rich, and dangerous. He’s irresistible.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“Is that one of your questions, Killer?”

I hesitate, but decide to commit. “Yes.”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife. No significant other.”

“Good.” I nod, mostly for myself. I knew I hadn’t made this up...whateverthisis between us.

“Yet,” he adds with a wink.

“By my calculation, we have one question left each. Let’s save this for later. I want to think about mine for a while, and I really need to get some work done.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket and see another new video I’ve been tagged in. I can feel my brows knit together. What am I going to do about this? The posts are coming in thick and fast. Not only is it Millie and Travis, but comments are spreading across multiple platforms, while I’m wasting my time flirting with a man I’m trying to convince to release my brother. I haven’t even mentioned Danny during the last twenty-four hours. What am I really doing here?

“Hey, is everything okay?” Austin’s soft voice brings me back to the basement.

I shake myself off. “Yeah, just work stuff. I have to go do some things. I’ll be back later, okay?”

“Sure, I’m here if you need to talk, Olivia. I might be able to help.”

I nod, grab his empty plate along with mine, and head back upstairs.

By the following afternoon, I’ve worked myself into such a state that I find it hard enough just to drop food downstairs. I barely say more than a few words to Austin. His worried look guts me every time I drop something down to him. I’ve included a few more books as well to keep him occupied, but otherwise, leave him alone.

By mid-afternoon on Tuesday, my despair has all but taken over. The comments are relentless and the private messages are coming in thick and fast until the inboxes across all my platforms are unmanageable.

My phone is blowing up, and eventually, I can’t take any more. I pick up my phone, flip it over, and head to my channel.

I’ve been tagged again in another video. I suck in a deep breath and brace myself for another onslaught of insults and accusations.

I hit the play button and watch.

Austin

I’m sitting up on the bed, reading another romance novel, when Olivia skips down the steps. Like a puppy bounding along, she hums a tune low in her throat.

“Hi,” she says, smiling shyly.