Page 80 of Faking it with the Billionaire

“Will anyone else be there?” Em asks.

I glance up at her as I grab the keys hanging on the wall near the garage. “It’s the ice arena. There are plenty of people there, even at six in the morning. I’ll be fine.” I give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Relax. Look after Bristol, and I’ll call you when I figure out what the hell is going on. Okay?”

I hurry out into the garage, hitting the button for the doors to open.

Em is watching me from the doorjamb. She’s leaning on the frame, arms folded across her chest. She doesn’t look pleased.

Yeah, me either. I’d have rather stayed curled up against her this morning.

I jump into the truck and head out through the main gate, hightailing my ass toward the arena. I’ll be lucky if I make it there in thirty minutes.

I park in the private garage, and while I don’t typically use the space, I have an access card that lets me inside. My pace of walking is more like running when I hurry through the garage and inside. I use my keycard to enter the building and hurry through the hallway and down several corridors until I reach Fitzgerald’s office.

My pace slows only when I’m two doors away so that I don’t look like I’ve been running through the hallways. It’s all about composure and looking calm and collected. I don’t feel any of those things, but I refuse to let him see through my charade.

Fitzgerald’s door is open, and I give it a knock as I step into the doorway. “Sir,” I say, and the words are bitter on my tongue, trying to mask my disgust for the man.

“Shut the door and come in and have a seat.” He gestures to the empty chair opposite his desk.

I quietly close the office door. He doesn’t thank me for coming in so quickly or at all. Not that I’d ever expect to hear the words ‘thank you’ from his lips.

“Do you know why I called you into my office, Greyson?”

His tone makes me feel like I’m in the principal’s office. It’s condescending, and I’m ready for a scolding from the man.

I don’t feign to know why. “No, sir.” I force the words out, trying to give him the respect he wants, even if he doesn’t deserve it.

“Care to explain this?” he asks, and pushes a piece of white paper across his desk. It’s scribbled in the same handwriting as before.

Another threat.

Throw the game, or Bristol dies.

TWENTY

EMERSON

Lia textsme that she’s running late and stuck in traffic.

It’s fine. My job is to keep Bristol safe, so I’m not overly concerned. Bristol has the day off, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with her this afternoon.

Maybe when Lia gets here, she’ll have a suggestion. We’ve done the zoo, the art museum, and the park recently. With the nicer weather making it possible to enjoy a few outdoor activities, we’ve been doing what we can to enjoy it.

I’m busy in the kitchen making pancakes for Bristol when my phone rings.

“Is that Nanny Lia?” Bristol asks with hopeful eyes. She’s not keen on my pancakes, but I swear I follow the box directions when I make them. They’re just not as crispy as Lia’s.

“It’s your dad.” I hit accept on my cell phone and take the call. “Hello?”

“Em, it’s me.” There’s a lot of noise and commotion in the background. Is he in the locker room?

“What’s going on?” I ask, feeling a sense of urgency in him calling. If it were nothing, he’d have texted me to tell me that Fitzgerald is a douche.

More background noise and chatter follow before I hear his words clearly, and the noise behind him dies down. He must be taking the call in another room. “I need you to come down to the arena.”

“Yeah, sure. I can call Mitchell and have him bring me down there this morning as soon as Lia gets here. She’s running late.”

“I think at this point, just bring Bristol with you. And I also need you to bring that note.”