He grins. “He already knew I was meeting up with you. He figured the rest out on his own. He wanted to know why we weremeeting, and I told him the truth. No reason to lie.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m not about to fight Irvin over meeting with you.”
I cock my eyebrow. “He would fight you?”
He leans in closer as we walk along the cobblestone path. “Yeah. In case you didn’t get the memo, Irvin doesn’t like it when men have your attention.”
Honestly, it doesn’t surprise me. He can be overly possessive of me.
I shrug. “Yeah, I know.”
I bite my lip. How loyal is Jameson to Irvin? Jameson grew up with Irvin, and from what I heard, they had no choice because of the American Billionaire Club. How well does he know Irvin? Maybe I can get some clarity about my husband.
“Do you think Irvin is capable of killing innocent people?”
He stops, and his eyes narrow. “Why are you asking?”
I shrug. “Someone sent me a video of Irvin killing one of the campus victims.”
He strokes a thick eyebrow. “Did you tell Irvin this?”
I exhale loudly. “He denied it, but I don’t know. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”
“Irvin isn’t doing the killings on campus. That’s an absurd statement. He doesn’t usually bother someone unless they’re a th—”
“Threat,” I finish, shaking my head. “But I know what I saw.” I twirl the ends of my hair. “Can you check my phone to see where the deleted messages I got came from? Someone sent me text messages—a threatening one—and told me to meet them at the auditorium. That’s where I saw the video. They put it on the projection screen.”
“I’ll check. Let’s go back to the mansion.”
Jameson uses a cord to hook my phone to his laptop in his room. I flop on his bed, looking around. It’s clean. Neat. His dresser is black, along with his headboard and footboard. He has a spacious en suite bathroom. My eyes land on him, and my cheeks flush for looking around. He stares at me for a while, not in a creepy way, then types on the computer. The silence between us is eerie, and it makes me nervous.
He clicks away.
I fiddle with the hem of my sweater. “What’s your major?”
Without taking his eyes off the laptop screen, he answers, “Digital forensics.”
“What is that, exactly?”
“Investigating computers and phones to recover evidence of cybercrime.”
I sit farther back on the comfy bed. His faint, expensive cologne lingers in the air. “How does that fit into being part of the American Billionaire Club?”
“I’m going to be the CIO of the club.”
“What’s a CIO?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“Well, I don’t like the silence between us. It makes me nervous.”
His gaze meets mine, and he lifts a brow. “Do you mean the sexual tension between us?”
Thereissexual tension, but not in any way where I’m going to cheat on Irvin.
My cheeks flush. “I wasn’t thin—”
“I’m not going to try to fuck you, beauty. I know you’re off-limits. Plus, I value my life.” He continues clicking on the computer. “CIO means chief information officer. It’s up there with COO, like Irvin’s soon-to-be role in the club.”
“Oh. Do you like being a techie guy?”
