Say You Still Love Me(119)

“Because he’s an idiot and she’s too good for him, but he’s come to beg for her forgiveness for being an idiot and she’ll take him back because she’s settling.” I could win a fortune betting on the outcome of this.

“Right. Got it. So Ash needs to meet someone else.” Kyle bites his lip. “You should introduce her to Mark.”

“Mark’s in love with Renée.”

“Good luck. Renée’s gonna be banging David within six months.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do,” he says with that cocky confidence.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but what about Eric?” Christa throws in. “She always had a thing for him. Is he still single?”

“Yeah, as far as I know.” Kyle’s brow furrows. And then he’s chuckling as Elton burrows his nose into his ear. “This feels really weird.”

“Do you two want some time alone?” I tease.

“I can’t help it if he likes me more than you.”

“He likes your drying sweat, is all,” Christa mutters, tossing the TV remote onto the coffee table with a clatter.

“Ow!” Kyle hisses as Elton suddenly leaps off him and over the back of the couch, to tear across the penthouse. He stops by the French doors and spins around to attack the tip of his tail. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Kyle accuses, lifting his shirt to inspect the long, red scratch marks across his ripples of muscle, which are much more defined after being worked at the gym.

“And on that note . . .” Christa makes a point of rolling her eyes as she averts them, but I don’t miss the hint of pink in her cheeks before she stands and strolls toward her room.

“You up for a game in Boston if I get tickets?” Kyle calls out.

“As long as you’re not coming.”

“She’s definitely warming up to me,” Kyle mock-whispers.

“Make him get off our furniture and take a shower!” she shouts back, disappearing down the hall.

“Have I told you how much I love having you here?” I murmur.

He lets his T-shirt fall and takes my hand, pressing a kiss against the back of it. “What happened today?”

I sink into him with a groan—the smell of his clean sweat is intoxicating—and tell him about KDZ and my father’s ultimatum.

“Still no luck with those phone records?”

“No, and I spent twenty minutes promising their president that I’d pull our five-million-dollar-a-year contract with them if I don’t have what I need in my hand by tonight.”

Kyle checks his watch. “It’s still technically tonight.”

I sigh. “Do you think . . . is there any way that what you heard was wrong?”

“No.”

“But, what if—”

“This isn’t two truths and a lie, Piper. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s picking up on shady shit.” His gaze drifts to the TV, though I can tell he’s not watching the sports highlights. “God knows I’ve had enough experience with it.”

“It’s too bad Gus wasn’t there with you.”

“Right. Someone people would respect,” he mutters, and I don’t miss the hint of bitterness in his tone.

“Kyle, no one looks at you and sees what your dad and brothers did. No one but you.” Thousands of miles and years later, and he still can’t seem to shake his low opinion of himself. I smooth my hand over his stomach. “I respect you.”

He gives my hand a squeeze, and then pulls himself off the couch. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

I watch him wander down the hall to my bedroom, waiting for him to pause, to turn back, to suggest I join him.

But he doesn’t.




Settling into bed with a glass of wine while I wait for Kyle to finish his shower, I open up my laptop and check my email. Re: Phone Records. Confidential.

My heart begins to race as I see the subject line in my in-box.

“Please, give me a smoking gun . . .” Please give me something that will prove Kyle’s instincts were right, and that Tripp is a thieving liar.

There are several attachments. I click on the first one and begin scrolling.

And smile with wicked satisfaction, even as my anger boils.

Kyle has just stepped out of the shower when I storm into the bathroom, a white towel wrapped around his lower half, his hair damp, his chest glistening.

“Get dressed.”

He frowns. “Why?”

My adrenaline is racing. “They just sent me Tripp’s phone records and you were right. Of course you were right.” An odd sense of pride swells inside me, knowing that. “We’re going to show my father what Tripp has been up to.”

Kyle’s eyebrows arch. “We?”

“Yes. We. You are the reason Tripp isn’t getting away with this bullshit. We would have signed with KDZ otherwise and that dickhead would be laughing right now.” All the way to John Deveaux, half a million dollars richer. Who knows—maybe working with this Hank Kavanaugh could have been advantageous, but I want nothing to do with his business tactics.

“I don’t need to take any credit for that, Piper.” Kyle shakes his head. “You go ahead, seriously. I’ll be here to celebrate with you when you get back.”