Since we’re so lost on who it could be, Shawn and I resorted to interrogating just about everyone who has the slightest bit of motivation to betray the family they swore to die for. And our luck so far has been as we expected: shitty.
I clutch my head from a sudden sharp pain, then a wave of dizziness nearly topples me. Damn this headache. It’s been killing me all morning, and the interrogating isn’t helping.
“Get the fuck out, Elijah,” I hiss.
Elijah pauses. “Do… do you still think it’s me?”
I lower my hands from my face and stare at him, my gaze intense and unwavering. Elijah’s face pales, and he’s on his feet in seconds. The door shuts behind him with a thud.
No one told me how hard it would be to catch a rat right under your nose. I could interview the entire Crown and wouldn’t accomplish shit. Shawn and I are going about this the wrong way.
A comforting hand lands on my shoulder. “I think we’re going about this wrong.”
The creep read my mind. “I know, but now that everyone knows about the mole, it’s going to be ten times harder to catch them. Even the party tomorrow is a long shot.”
Throwing a party is the bright idea I came up with to snuff out the culprit making my life hell. Tipsy folks aren’t as aware, and with a big party, they might see it as their chance to poke around or even plant something for us to find.
We’re throwing it under the guise of another business meeting between my parents and their partners. It’ll have the same boring chatter, music, and nosy reporters who sneak their way in, but we’ll be watching.
“Possibly,” Shawn drawls, and I cock a brow at him. He continues, “But I think we know where to look.”
Where to look? We’ve interrogated half the damn Crowncrest. Who else could he be—oh.
Not this again. “Stop worrying about Rip and Thomas.”
“Kingsley, think about it,” Shawn argues, his hand striking against the table. Shawn’s patience is wearing thin, and it’s evident in the strain in his voice. “Everything was fine before they showed up.”
“We had a mole before my dad hired them.”
“You don’t know that. You’re assuming.”
My teeth clamp together. Why is he so passionate about them? If I didn’t know better, I’d say Shawn wants Rip and Thomas to be the ones betraying us. He wants them to be undercover operatives sent to take us out, and every offhand comment he makes ignites a fire in my chest.
Fed up, I try to brush past him. With a firm gaze, he clasps my arm and spins me around to face him. “Why are you so against the idea of it being the insanely young, hot,convenientsocial media marketers?”
My arm tingles and flares with pent-up energy as I rip it free from Shawn’s grasp, itching to connect with his sharp jaw. “We’ve already ruled them out.”
“No, you did.” Shawn jabs me in the chest. “And I don’t trust your judgment. It’s almost like something is happening with you and them that no one else knows.”
My blood runs cold, but I quickly let out a sarcastic laugh, like his statement is the most absurd thing imaginable. Because it is.It is.
“You’re a deluded fuck,” I mutter, skin prickling at the back of my neck.
With a detective’s intensity, Shawn’s big eyes locked onto mine. To escape the chest-deep embarrassment, a feeling dormant for ages, I try to break eye contact, but he doesn’t back down. When does he ever?
“Kingsley,” he states.
“Shawn,” I reply.
“Don’t tell me you’re hooking up with one of them. I know you arenothooking up with your employee.”
I press my lips together to stop the lies trying to find their way out of my mouth, but my silence is all the confirmation he needs. Shawn gasps, his palms hitting the table with a sharp crack. Damn him.
“No wonder you get all pissy when I bring them up,” he practically shouts. He tugs at the ends of his hair as he paces the room, flabbergasted. “It’s Rip, right? It has to be Rip.”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
My words don’t faze him. “But you don’t do hookups.”
