I wasn’t surprised. There were a lot of crazies in the world. But his lax security when there was a history was concerning.
“Had,” Tripp corrected. “We took her to court, and that pretty much killed the delusion.”
“That you know of. Is there any chance she’s behind this?”
His mouth curved down as he mulled it over before shaking his head. “I haven’t heard a word from her since the trial, but I’ll have Easton or Atlas look into it to be safe.”
“Good idea.” I handed Tripp his phone, and he sent off two texts before using his biometrics to log into Kaya for me. Once he handed it back, I paced around as I searched through the options and menus.
It was elaborate for a glorified hookup app. The amount of certification required to even get an account was surprising.
Restless and on edge, I kept walking through the house as I continued my virtual inspection before stopping short.
What the hell?
Tripp had mentioned to the police that he’d left a construction crew at the house and couldn’t guarantee they’d rearmed thesecurity system or even locked all the doors when they were done. My focus had been on the dirty messages I’d thought were from him and the potential break-in. I hadn’t gotten the chance to ask what work he had done.
But it was obvious.
His open floor plan between his living room and game room had been split, but not by a wall. It was a floor to ceiling bookshelf. Angular and cool, the open style allowed for more storage without making the space seem smaller—not that it was possible, but still.
Some of my textbooks I’d left were on the shelves, along with my pens and sticky notes. If I was at my usual spot on the couch, I could easily reach back to grab them.
I spun around to see Tripp watching me.
His arms were folded across his broad chest, and a small smile curved his mouth. “You said I needed more surfaces.”
It was such a throwaway comment, I hadn’t expected Tripp to even remember it, much less do something about it.
“I meant, like, one of those little folding tray tables or something.” I threw my arm out. “Not this.”
“You don’t like it? I’ll have them come redo it.”
“Don’t you dare.”
The style was really unique and elevated the interior, along with being functional. It was gorgeous and thoughtful and entirely unnecessary.
I ran a finger across a shelf as I rounded it to go into the living room. It took a lot of effort, but I dragged my focus back to the phone in my hand.
I toggled through the options before finally finding where to deactivate the account.
I turned the screen toward Tripp. “I’m pretty sure that if you deactivate it on your end, it will cut off whoever’s accessing it, too. But I might be wrong. The other thing is, if you deactivate, there will be no way for anyone to track who the imposter is.”
He didn’t hesitate. He pressed the screen twice to confirm his choice to close his account on the dating app for the high-profile elite.
And then he pulled me into his arms.
“Tripp—”
His hold tightened as his jaw clenched. “Who am I?”
“Sir. I…” My words trailed off. I couldn’t force anything out. At the authoritative way he handled me, every muscle in my body seemed to unclench in an instant, and my chest finally loosened enough that I could take a full breath.
“I’m sorry you had to see all of that,” he rumbled with his lips against the top of my head.
“It’s not your fault.” A new spiral of guilt infused the existing one in my belly. “I’m sorry I thought you were a dickhead.”
“I usually am.”
