The thought makes me wince. The news would go over better if it came from me. But since he didn’t leave me a direct number to reach him, I can only call the emergency contact he made me promise I’d program into my phone before he left. Hopefully, whoever answers will relay the message that I want to speak to Daddy quickly. And maybe they can assure me that my father has simply been busy rather than captured, wounded…or worse.
With trembling fingers, I reach for my device. I don’t want to worry or startle my father. But I need to be honest. And now I’m just procrastinating. I fear he’ll be somewhere between enraged and sad to learn that his little girl is a woman now who’s found her own man. But I hope he’ll understand. Daddy just wants me to be happy.
Letting out a breath, I press the button. The phone rings in my ear.
Seconds later, I hear another device ringing in the room, coming from the side of the bed where Rush shed his pants.
It has to be a coincidence. Maybe it’s the hotel calling him because there’s a security problem and he’ll have to report in to work. I expected this weekend to be rowdy.
But what if the ringing phone isn’t a coincidence?
Frowning, I hang up and wait.
The ringing pealing from Rush’s pants pocket stops.
So does my heart.
Is it possible Rush works for Daddy?
I press the button again. The ringing across the room resumes.
Like I’m on autopilot, I head straight for his pants and find the device. It’s still ringing when I lift it.
On my phone, I disconnect the call again. In my other hand, the ringing stops.
That son of a bitch.
All this time, I assumed Mrs. Crafton was my watchdog, an older version of my aunt. The grandmother figure I never had. But no…
Daddy sent someone I’ve been crushing on. Who I once kissed. Who I work with. Or is his job at the hotel just a cover? It has to be.
And I’m so furious.
My father didn’t just send a man to watch over me this time. He sent a spy, like him—a master of disguises, cover stories, misdirection, mind games, and manipulation.
Is any of what Rush and I have real? Or did he move into my bed—and my heart—to benefit whatever fucking op he’s working on with Daddy?
“Vanessa!” Rush shouts as he dashes out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but a towel.
Water drips off every hard, rigid muscle of his shoulders, chest, and abs, darkening his ink and adding a sheen to his golden skin that makes my jaw drop. I shouldn’t let myself be distracted by the gorgeous man candy. He’s clearly learned to use his ripped body to seduce information from contacts and bamboozle wide-eyed idiots.
Like me.
Rush played me. I need to be angry about that, not wishing he’d drop the towel, take me in his arms, and make me feel good again while he assures me that he loves me.
And what if I get pregnant?
“We need to talk, little girl. I need to tell you—”
“That you work for my father?” I spit, holding my phone in one hand and the burner phone I retrieved from Rush’s pocket with the other. “I figured that out.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
“So you don’t work for Daddy?”
He curses under his breath. “Listen to me. I—”
“So that’s a yes. When were you going to tell me?”
“Did you call that phone?” He points to the burner.
“Answer my question first. When were you going to tell me that you work for my father?”
“Once we were settled and comfortable together.”
“Bullshit.” I set the burner phone on the nightstand, then I realize I’m naked. I feel too exposed, so I rustle around for my robe, then belt it tight around my middle. “You didn’t have sex with me because you want me or have feelings for me. You did it for the job, didn’t you? Somehow, deflowering me advanced your mission. I hope it wasn’t too much of a hardship.”
When I turn to leave the room, he pulls me back. “That’s not true. I love you.”
My stupid heart wants to believe that, but I can’t be swayed. I may not understand exactly how and why the game is played, but I know enough to know I’m in dangerous water.
And Rush is the shark circling me, smelling blood.
“No. You’re a spy. Which also makes you a liar, a player, and an unreliable prick. Get out.”
“Vanessa…” He rushes after me. “Little girl. Don’t—”
“Now.” I snatch up the burner phone and throw it at his chest, but of course it bounces off his solid flesh the way a quarter would bounce off those tight, tempting abs. “Or I’m calling the police.”
I don’t know if that threat will actually do anything, but the big boys usually leave the locals in the dark, and at the very least, the officers of the SAPD will put a monkey wrench in whatever Rush and Daddy have schemed.