Page 47 of The Elusive Billionaire

“I’m your executive assistant, Greyson.” She adopts a haughty tone. “It’s my job to keep you abreast of things. Thisthinghappens to have taken on a life of its own while you’ve been playing house, and Braxton not informing you of it has made it worse. I suggest you distance yourself from thesex therapistthe second you get off that godforsaken property.”

“Grey?” Savvy’s voice sends my pulse skyrocketing.

“Call Braxton,” I bark into the phone, then disconnect the call before facing Savvy.

Her brow is raised, and her arms are crossed. She’s pissed. “Your assistant has a possessive streak.”

I can actually feel the shock registering on my face because that’s not true at all. “Why would you say that?”

She carefully shrugs one delicate shoulder that’s bare—my T-shirt once again dangling precariously from one side.

“Women’s intuition. Why does she want you to distance yourself from me?”

The need to fix something overpowers me. The problem is, I don’t yet know what needs fixing, though I have a sinking suspicion it has everything to do with my little troublemaker.

“I’m honestly not sure. She said there’s a…” I blow out a breath that puffs up both of my cheeks, then drag my fingers through my hair. I desperately need a real shower.

Savvy stands rigidly, dropping her arms to her sides like lead weights. “There’s a what?”

“Quinn said there’s a scandal.”

The woman before me goes eerily still as all color drains from her face.

“What kind of scandal?” Her chest rises at an alarming pace. It’s the only thing on her that moves. She doesn’t even blink, for fuck’s sake.

Why am I the one to give her this news? Of all people, it has to be me? She just got back to her ball-busting ways—the way I like her.

Damn. I do like her this way, but I don’t know her demons well enough yet to know what will weaken her.

“What scandal, Greyson?”

I stare blankly at a point on the wall just above her head. With a heavy sigh, I finally look at her. “She didn’t say. Just that it was something to do with your past.”

Visible tremors start in her fingers and race up both arms, and nothing I can do will tear my gaze away from her outward signs of distress. My palms itch with the need to set things right.

“My past.” Her words are wrapped in arsenic, and she nods with one aggressive tip of her head.

I study her, waiting for any direction on how to proceed, but all she does is walk woodenly toward the front door in silence.

Do I follow? Do I call Braxton and ask him what the hell is going on?

I’m out of my element with her. Generally, when a problem presents itself, I act on it, then move on. But there’s a looming sense of dread that I can’t see through. Calling Braxton seems like a safer bet right now, but when I lift the phone, Savvy’s heavy footsteps on the porch call to me, and I follow her instead.

She’s staring out at the swamplands my property has become. She hasn’t noticed me on the threshold yet, so I take my time studying her.

My fingers itch to tug her thumb from her mouth. Biting that nail is a bad habit, but it’s also her tell that not everything is calm in that mind of hers.

“How do you even have any nails left?” I ask after a long beat.

As expected, she jolts in place, her eyes blinking rapidly as though she’d zoned out.

Her thumb curls under her fingers as she forms a fist around it, and she shrugs.

“It seemed weird that no one came out here the last couple of days.” She scans the property from left to right and back again.

I’d been thinking the same thing, but I don’t admit it. The last thing I need is to fuel her fears.

But she’s not wrong. We’ve been stranded here for six days now, and someone got as close to us as they could every day right up until two days ago.