Lexi’s breath catches, and she whispers, “Holy shit.”
My heart instantly drops into my stomach. “…What?”
She slowly turns the phone around, holding it out like it’s the final piece of evidence in a murder trial. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open in disbelief.
The bold headline at the top of the page reads, “Crisis King: How Lochlan ‘Locke’ Bishop Buries Scandals Before They Break.”
The article is paired with a photo that looks like the paparazzi took it. Him stepping out of a sleek black SUV, his face half-hidden by his hand as he walks away.
I blink a few times, then squint. “No fucking way.”
“Oh, fucking way!” Lexi squeals, continuing to scroll. “Owner of Bishop Strategies, private PR. Crisis management firm for the ultra-wealthy. He’s the guy who cleans up celebrity scandals before they have the chance to hit the press.” Lexi keeps reading, but I lose track of what she’s saying, and all her words blur together.
I’ve stolen from CEOs. Trust fund babies. Tech bros. Tons of men too rich to notice, or care, when their wallets or suitcases were lighter.
But this? Lexi’s right, he’s not just another rich asshole. His whole life is about Hollywood glamour and celebrities. He has connections. He might even be dangerous.
I exhale slowly, setting my mug on the coffee table. “Shit.”
Chapter 5
LOCKE
I stand across from Nate, watching him rub his temples and glare at me like I’ve just told him I lost millions at the blackjack table. The obnoxiously large kitchen island is the only barrier between us. Which is probably a good thing since I can see how badly he wants to punch me right now.
I scan the room, waiting for him to say something. The suite is nice, sure. But at this point, I’ve stayed in too many of these places to care. They all blur together after a while. Perfect. Polished. A facade. The only thing remotely interesting about it is the little thief that was here last night.
I shove that thought down, trying to ignore the fact that my clothes still hold traces of her perfume. Bright citrus mixed with jasmine and a hint of vanilla. I shouldn’t enjoy it, so why am I?
Nate exhales through his nose, jaw tight. “Let me get this straight, brother.” That last word, dripping with annoyance. “You brought a random girl from the bar back here last night. What was her name? Aiden? —”
I exhale sharply. “Arden.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He says, waving a hand in my direction. “You brought her here, fucked her, and then, sometime before you woke up, she slipped out with your overpriced watch, our father’s cross, and your knife?”
I shift my gaze to the floor, rubbing the back of my neck. It’s a little more embarrassing when it’s all laid out like that.
Nate leans forward, bracing his forearms on the counter. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants? Couldn’t wait until the nextHollywood event to pick someone a little more… I don’t know, suitable? You had to go for some low-life girl in Vegas?”
His eyes narrow as he continues his lecture. “And now you think you’re going to hunt her down? For what?”
I keep my expression neutral. Maintaining the controlled mask I’ve perfected over the years.
I could lie. Tell him I’m just after the cross. That it’s sentimental. Maybe that’s part of it... but the truth is, I’m curious. I want to know why she did it, if she does this often, if she even hesitated, and if she felt the same magnetic pull toward me that I did toward her. But, even more than that, I think she might actually be useful.
When I finally speak, I do my best to keep my mask in place. “She might be exactly what I need for the Jaxon Wilde situation.”
Nate blinks. Then laughs, a single, humorless chuckle.
“You’re kidding.” He shakes his head. “You want to hire her?”
He stares at me for a moment, waiting for a response, but I just stare back.
“You actually might be insane, Locke. You’ve truly outdone yourself this time.”
Right on cue, Sebastian strolls in, completely unaware of the hellfire he’s just walked into. It only takes him one glance between us to realize.
“Are you guys fighting again?” He stretches, looking obnoxiously refreshed for someone who drank half the bar last night. “Come on, give it a rest, Nate. Locke finally got laid. You should be happy! Maybe he’ll actually be in a good mood for once.”
