The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(51)

I was trying to stick to business, but she was making it difficult. And making me hard. “Is that an invitation?”

“It might be. You’re a good cook, but your coffee’s mediocre. I’m still deciding.”

“I ride a motorcycle. Does that tip the scales in my favor?”

“God yes,” she said, her eyes rolling back. “I should have known I’d end up sleeping with you the first time I saw you on that thing.”

“So sleeping arrangements to be determined, but I’m not leaving you alone there. Second, I’m going to figure out how someone got in. I need to talk to everyone who has a code.”

“You think it was an inside job?”

“I know you don’t want to think someone you trust enough to have access to your home would do this to you, but the fact is, whoever it was didn’t break in. That means they were either let in, or they had the code to unlock your door and disable the alarm.”

“No one was there to let someone in. Nicholas and Inda left before I went to Luna’s. Bert wasn’t there yesterday, and I can’t even fathom him doing something like this. You’re welcome to interrogate my friends, but if you do, I have to be there, because I want to see them chew you up and spit you out.”

“I have no doubt they will, but I’m still going to ask them some questions. What about your cleaning service?”

“They’re very reputable.”

“All it takes is a little money. Someone could have slipped some cash to one of the cleaning people.”

“It’s possible, I suppose.” She took a sip of coffee. “I wish I knew why they were doing this. None of it makes sense.”

She was right about that. The only pattern was that there wasn’t one.

“I still think the most likely suspects are Noelle and Aldrich.”

“The note referred to me as the boss,” she said. “Doesn’t that imply something about Spencer? Aldrich doesn’t have any connections to my company.”

“Derek sent me an email last night right before you called. It turns out Aldrich bought a large share of Reese Howard Aviation not long ago. And guess who was just elected to their board of directors?”

“What?” she asked, her eyes widening. “Aldrich got himself elected to the board of directors of our biggest competitor?”

I nodded.

Cameron got off the stool and put her hands in her hair. “That asshole. Why would he do that? He never cared about my business, only whined that I worked too much.”

“Maybe that has something to do with it. If he blames your career for your breakup, he could be trying to hit you where it hurts. Take away the thing that took you from him.”

“Why didn’t I see it?” She started pacing around the loft. “I should have known he was evil. He waxes his chest, Jude. He’s neither a model nor a swimmer. Why would he wax his chest?”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but it is weird.”

“I just mean it should have tipped me off that something wasn’t right.”

“The question is, does Aldrich have your door code?”

“No. I changed it after we broke up.”

“Regardless, I’ll know more when I review your security footage.”

“Why haven’t you reviewed the footage?”

“I was a little busy fucking you last night.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Well, you should have reviewed the footage instead. No, I take that back, I’m just upset and talking crazy. Fucking me was the right choice.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“How could I not? It was amazing. But we need to focus. You still think it could be Noelle? Her hatred of me is fierce, but putting a fish in my bed seems odd for her.”

“Can you see Aldrich leaving a fish in your bed?”

“Not really. But I’m starting to doubt my ability to judge people’s character. Oh my god, I’m going to turn into one of those eccentric paranoid billionaires. How long before I start trying to build an impossible-to-engineer airplane in a massive hanger out in the middle of nowhere?”

“I’m sure you have a few good years left. And yes, I still think Noelle is a possibility. The fish could be for shock value, or to throw you off her trail. Regardless, I think you should get Derek involved. His firm can help manage the media if things start going sideways.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” She grabbed her phone and groaned.

“Another email?”

“No, a text from Bobby Spencer. He’s throwing an intimate soiree”—she made air quotes—“on his stripper plane tonight.”

“What’s a stripper plane?”

She rolled her eyes while she typed a reply. “A few years ago, he bought a private jet from some Saudi prince. I think it’s literally from the early nineties, and it’s hideous. I’m talking red velvet and leopard print with gold-plated everything. I’ve only had the misfortune of seeing pictures, but it’s outfitted with a rotating bed, a full bar, and a stripper pole. It’s another one of his brilliant business ideas that’s done nothing but waste a bunch of his trust fund.”

“Classy.”

“Oh dear, I was about to RSVP with a plus one, but he texted again to say I don’t need to bring my bodyguard.”