Ozzie stops his advances, looking genuinely confused by these questions. “No, I…what? Kill you? No, I’m gonna protect you.”
I’m working hard not to hyperventilate. “Just tell me if Crypto hired you. I need to know.”
Ozzie lifts his palms in surrender. “I don’t know who or what that is, but it sounds terrible.”
I’m not going to smile at that. I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.
“What the fuck do you want from me?”
Ozzie’s beautiful gray eyes cut away when one of us gets a notification. It turns out to be from his phone.
“Ah…sorry. I gotta take this call.”
I snort. “Be my guest.”
He backs away and looks to the side as I stand there, staring at his scruffy, too-sexy jawline.
“Melinda. Hi.”
Melinda. A woman? I don’t like that. That’s irrational, but still.
“Yes…yes…no, I know it’s this weekend, but…no…yes, I’ll be there.”
He looks up at me and winks, mouthing, “My oldest sister.”
I am relieved. Why am I relieved? He’s just revealed that he has an inkling of the biggest ever bombshell about a person, and if he decides to doxx me, he will ruin my life. Yet, I’ve never been more aroused. Explain that, Dr. Freud.
I nod, despite all the feelings swirling around in my gut.
Fuck. How did I mess this up so bad? How did he find out?
As I watch Ozzie, a gleam appears in his eyes, and he says into the phone, “Yep. I have a surprise. Tell Mom to make up an extra bedroom for my plus one.”
The way he’s looking at me, I know he means me. What is going on? Plus one? I ain’t going to a wedding. Fuck that.
When Ozzie hangs up the phone, he turns back to me.
“So, where was I?”
“You were about to blackmail me?”
Ozzie rears back. “What? No. What? No!”
I think I made his brain short-circuit.
“You don’t work for the Whitmans; you’re not going to blackmail me, then what do you want?”
The man waits for a beat, then his eyes travel south to my cleavage. He shakes his head like he’s clearing out the dust and cobwebs. Then he says, “I want you to come home with me and pretend to be my fiancée.”
“Are you high?”
Ozzie bows his head and takes a breath, thinking.
I watch him, and despite my annoyance, I admire the waves in his hair and the pinkish hue in his earlobes. They turned that same color when he was asking me out.
My stomach somersaults when his hand reaches up and scratches the nape of his neck.
Finally, he lifts his head and tries again. “I need a favor.”