Page 81 of Faking it with the Billionaire

“Thenote?” I repeat, glancing at Bristol, trying to keep things as discreet as possible so as not to scare his kid.

“Yes.”

A heavy breath slips past my lips. “Was there another threat?” I ask. My stomach tenses with the dreaded possibility that another threat has been left for Kyler.

“Yes.” He’s a man of few words this morning.

“I’m making Bristol pancakes this morning. They’re just about done—”

“Turn off the stove and leave it. Lia can clean it up. I’ll get Bristol something to eat when you get here.”

The urgency in his tone is unmistakable. “Okay.”

He ends the call before I can ask anything further.

The pancakes are half-cooked. “Go upstairs and get dressed. Your dad needs us at the arena this morning.”

“Why?” Bristol asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“What about breakfast?” she asks.

“If you hurry and get dressed, I’ll have these done, and you can take one with you.”

Bristol doesn’t seem convinced, but she rushes up the stairs, her patter of footsteps thumping up the staircase. I turn the heat up on the stove. I’ll have to rush to get dressed when the pancakes finish, but I don’t want to leave the stove unattended. And I know Kyler told me to turn it off but listening to Bristol complain about how hungry she is on the ride to the arena isn’t a good plan, either.

The front entrance buzzes, and the tablet indicates a guest opening the front gate. I grab the tablet and check the surveillance footage to see who has arrived first.

Mitchell.

That’s probably for the best. I can text Lia what’s going on when we leave with Mitchell.

I flip the pancakes as they’re starting to burn, and Bristol comes tearing down the stairs. “I’m ready!” she squeals proudly. She hurries into the kitchen wearing a polka dot t-shirt and leopard print pants.

Bristol is gripping her unicorn socks which she puts on while seated at the kitchen table. I grab some napkins and a bottle of water for her and text Mitchell.

Can you come inside?

The front door clicks. “Everything okay?” Mitchell asks.

“I need to get dressed, and the pancakes need another minute on the stove.”

Mitchell finds his way into the kitchen. “I’ve got it.” He glances me over. “Go get ready. Greyson is waiting for us.”

I race out of the kitchen, and Bristol is giggling. I hurry upstairs and into my bedroom, stripping down out of my pajamas and into a pair of black yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt.

I need to do laundry, which I was planning on working on today. I grab the note that Kyler asked me to bring, which is enclosed in a clear plastic envelope. I had it sent to the Eagle Tactical team to check for fingerprints or any DNA that might be on the paper.

It was clean. Not even a partial print. They sent me back the original, should I need to compare it to another sample.

That must be why Greyson wants me to bring it to the arena.

I would have thought that he’d discuss it at home between us, unless someone saw something. Is it possible Fitzgerald is behind the threats?

I toss the envelope into my purse, keeping it out of Bristol’s sight. She’s old enough to read, and I don’t want to frighten her.

Kyler has gone out of his way to keep this from his daughter, and I agree with him. She doesn’t need to know there’s a monster out there threatening her life.