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“Where’d you pick it up?”

“Just came to the main office of my company.”

“Didtheysay who it was from?”

“Hey man. Pick up and drop off. That’s all I do, OK?”

“Sure.” I close the door in his face.

Back in my kitchen, I toss the manilla envelope on the island’s marble top. It skids across it a little. I stare at it like it might try to harm me.

Thing is, even without knowing what’s in there, I know it can’t be good news. I’m not sure I want to deal with more bullshit tonight.

Yet there it sits. Fucking beckoning to me, like a cheap whore or something.

So I down my glass of wine and pluck the envelope up. I tear it open and yank out what’s inside.

Some sort of file. I glance in the envelope to see if there’s a goddamn note or something. Anything that might tell me who the fuck sent me this shit.

There’s nothing.

I look at the file again. Flip it over. And see that there’s something written on it, in big, black sharpy.

Just one word. Just a name.

“Becky.”


Tags: Ellie Rowe Billionaire Romance