Page 41 of Faking it with the Billionaire

The door slams shut behind me with a thud.

There’s no way Kyler knows about Brad. I never told him. And while it became watercooler gossip at the bureau, Kyler never worked there.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, catching up to him.

His jaw is terse, and his arms are folded across his chest as he paces the length of the loading dock.

“Nothing.”

His demeanor tells me he knows. “Who told you?” I glower, stalking closer to Greyson. “Who the hell told you about Brad?”

“No one had to tell me he was a creeper. His eyes were on your rack during our introductions. Is he the reason you dropped out of Quantico?”

I shift the weight on my feet. “I didn’t drop out,” I clarify. “I quit.”

“Same difference.”

“It’s not.” I’m appalled that he thinks I didn’t make it as an FBI agent. I passed Quantico and had a badge and gun. I was an FBI agent for a few months before I botched it by going to the office of professional responsibility. Yeah, all they gave a shit about was covering their own asses and his.

“So, you slept with him,” Kyler says, scowling. He drops his arms to his sides. His hands ball into fists.

“Not willingly,” I say, as if to excuse my own actions at the time. “I was drunk. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“He raped you?” Kyler lunges for the entrance back into the party, and I grab his arm to keep him from losing his shit.

“It was—a bad night. I don’t really remember much of it. Maybe I encouraged him before we ended up in bed.” I’m making excuses, even though I don’t believe the words coming from my lips, but I don’t want Greyson to end up arrested for beating the shit out of Brad, even if he deserves it.

Kyler pins me with his stare. His fingers reach mine, intertwining our hands together. “It’s not consent unless it’s enthusiastic and you’re both sober. He should have respected the fact that you were inebriated.”

“He’s the reason I was drunk. Hell, I didn’t even want to drink,” I mutter, chewing on my bottom lip. “It was some stupid initiation with the new hires, and that jerkoff was buying all of our drinks, insisting we drink and fuck our superiors or wash out. I went along with it until I told him to stop, and then—” I glance away, tears glistening in my eyes.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Kyler heads back inside, yanking the heavy door with ease as it flies open.

“Kyler, wait. No.” I hurry after him.

ELEVEN

KYLER

I’m literally seeing red.You know the expression; when someone gets so angry all they see is red.

That’s me right now after hearing about how that asshole forced himself on Emerson.

She deserves so much better than what that prick did to her and the damage to her career. I knew she left the bureau, she hadn’t kept that a secret, and I’d done a tiny bit of digging online to find out why, but most of the dirty laundry had been swept under the rug.

Her reputation had been tarnished by an accusation of sexual harassment against her boss.

The fucking liar tried to destroy her because he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. My hands ball into fists as I storm back into the gala.

I don’t care that there’s a party going on with cameras around and the paparazzi are just outside the door.

None of it matters.

I stalk inside and come face-to-face with that chick who had her arm linked with Brad, now shoving her tongue down Noah’s throat.

“For fuck’s sake!” I yank him off her, shoving him back against the wall.

“What the hell, man?” Noah’s eyes flicker, and he pushes me forcefully backward. I stumble but catch my footing.