“No doubt, Mr. Mills. You will certainly turn heads with Evan on your arm.”
Owen nods. “You can take my guest off the list. Add Evan to yours.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I’m sure. Then go home, Miss Riley. The gala will be great. Everything’s been set up.” He throws a bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.
“You’re actually going home?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
Owen turns and faces me with a smile. “Contrary to what you might believe, I do actually love my home.”
“I never said you didn’t. You usually go out on Fridays.”
Owen shrugs. “People can change, Miss Riley.”
Then he’s gone, his personal security trailing behind him.
Chapter 21
Noah follows me to my apartment, his knowing smirk never leaving his lips.
“What?” I bark as we reach the entrance to my building.
“Does the boss know what you do for a living?”
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”
“Fair. Does he know the real thing you’ve tasked me with?”
That’s a much better question, but I’m reluctant to answer. “No.”
Noah’s smile widens. “Oh, the irony. He hires me to protect you, but you hire me to guard him and save his ass. What a tangled web you find yourself in.”
I stop before the door of the building and put my hands on my hips. “I didn’t hire you for your opinions, so do you have something actually useful for me?”
Noah chuckles. “Your man seems to have two main groups targeting him. We don’t think they’re working together, but I can’t confirm that.”
“Have you caught anyone?”
Noah looks around as people walk by, heading home from work or headed to a bar for happy hour. “We should take this conversation to another location.”
“A ploy to get me to invite you up?”
Noah smirks. “Is it working?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, asshole.”
I take out my keycard and let us into the building. We don’t say anything until the door closes behind me.
“We haven’t caught anyone, but we’ve intercepted some messages.” Noah pauses, and I wave my hand, encouraging him to go on. “Two private assassins have been hired.”
“Hired by whom?”
“You know they wouldn’t just announce that, Nova.”
I huff, frustrated. “When?”
“Tomorrow. The gala.”
