Cleo wrinkled her nose. “What kind of favor does your dad need that involves a baby?”
I made a vague gesture. “You know how he is.”
Cleo scoffed. “Controlling? Strategic? Terrifying?”
“Exactly.” I picked up my water, hoping the subject would die there.
“So, what?” Imani side-eyed me, a little smirk curling her lips. “You’re looking after some important client’s kid? Someone from the team?”
I hesitated again and silently cursed myself when Cleo snapped her fingers excitedly.
“Oh, shit. It’s a driver, isn’t it?”
Imani inhaled sharply, leaning in. “Oh my God. Is it Stefano’s? That man would absolutely forget he had a child until it showed up at his garage in a go-kart.”
I choked on my sip of water. “No.”
Cleo studied me, eyes narrowing. “Not Stefano. Not anyone from the old grid…” Then her expression shifted, a slow grin curling at the edges. “Oh my God. Is it Griffin?”
Imani smacked the table. “It is.”
“No, it’s not,” I hissed too quickly.
Cleo let out a delighted laugh. “You cannot lie to save your life.”
I shoved a hand through my hair. “I’m not lying.”
Imani tilted her head. “You’re evading.”
“I’m protecting my own sanity.”
Cleo nudged my shin under the table. “Is he as insufferable in real life as he is on TV?”
I groaned. “Can we please move on?”
Imani sat back, shaking her head. “Vi, you realize you just confirmed it, right?”
I shot her a glare.
Cleo whistled low. “So, Griffin Michaels has a secret love child.”
“Would you keep your voice down?”
Cleo and Imani wouldn’t tell anyone. I knew that.
But if I couldn’t keep it from them, what chance did I have with reporters?
I shouldn’t go to Singapore.
Cleo grinned. “I mean, it makes sense. The man gives off strong serial sperm donor energy.”
Imani choked on her drink. “Cleo.”
“What?” She shrugged, unbothered. “You think someone that pretty doesn’t have questionable judgment?”
I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Can we not speculate on Griffin’s reproductive habits?”
Imani smirked. “Little late for that, Vi.”
