"Nothing. Not yet."

* * *

"You can come in," I told Katie the Barracuda. "But give your cell phone and any other electronic devices to your assistant. Nothing's coming in here."

"Picky, picky." She tsked, but she did as I asked.

"I have to be," I said, letting her in. "You can't trust anybody nowadays."

"You can say that again." She looked greedily around Lowell's house, her eyes drinking in every square inch. "This is lovely and perfect. Much like Lowell Barton herself."

"I agree," I said, although I didn't care for Katie's snide tone. She's just jealous. I was sure that was true, but it didn't make her any less dangerous. "Have a seat. I'd offer you something to drink, but I'm not leaving you unattended."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "You were a lot friendlier when you first showed up."

"I had to learn the hard way."

We looked at each other for a beat, with fake smiles, until she broke the silence. "I have information about you, Kyle. I wanted to give you the courtesy of telling you first."

"That's so thoughtful of you," Lowell said, sailing in from the kitchen, wearing clean clothes, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She carried three lemonades on a tray.

"Lemonade." Katie rolled her eyes at the tray. "You really are something, you know that?"

Lowell handed her a drink and sat across from her. "Yes, I know that." Lowell flashed her a megawatt smile. "Now, what can we do for you? I'm assuming you're not here just to offer your congratulations—thank you anyway. I did, however, overhear you telling Kyle that you have information about him. How fascinating. I just can't imagine what that might be." Lowell linked her hands through mine and squeezed, the only indication that she was on edge.

Katie set down her drink without taking a sip. "I'm pretty sure that you know, but I appreciate the little flourishes of your performance. Tell me, how's it going to be to kiss all of that good-bye? Because I happen to know for a fact that Lucas Dresden won't appreciate the story that's going to break about you two later this afternoon." She motioned toward the ring on Lowell's finger. "That was a nice try, though."

Lowell held up the ring. "It's not a try, Katie. It's an engagement ring. Because we're engaged."

The reporter raised her eyebrows. "I don't believe you."

"Why's that?" I asked, but the pit in my stomach told me I already knew.

"I knew there was something off between you two. It was too cute and too convenient. So I did a little digging," she said, licking her lips. "And I found out that you're related. So that's why I don't believe you're engaged—the last time I checked, in the state of California at least, siblings can't get married."

"We're not siblings." I waited to see what she'd say next.

"According to my source, your parents were married. You lived in the same house during your adolescence, raised as siblings."

"That's bullshit." I'd been able to tolerate her thus far, but she was making my blood boil. So this was going to turn into a shit show, after all. I started to say something more, but Lowell clutched my hand.

"What you're saying isn't true," Lo said. "I would say that if you care about your credentials as a journalist, you won't go forward with that story. But since I know you couldn't give a flying fuck about journalistic integrity, I'll just save my breath." Lowell stood. "You can go now. Do what you like."

Lowell marched her to the door. Katie looked a little flustered, as if this wasn't what she was expecting.

"We can cut a deal," she offered Lowell at the threshold. "I'm the only one who knows. For now."

Lowell leaned toward Katie's ear. "Go fuck yourself. Deal?" Lowell slammed the door behind her then pressed herself against it, her chest heaving. She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, "We're so fucked."

I

nodded, feeling guilty as hell. She seemed to pull herself together a little. She stood, a faraway look on her face as if she was lost in her thoughts.

"What's the name of your favorite reporter out there?" she asked.

"Jose."

Lowell opened the door. "Go get him. And tell him he's gonna need a camera crew."

Tags: Leigh James The Escort Collection Billionaire Romance
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