Page 17 of Trust Me
My stomach tightens, but outwardly I grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
I take a quick scan of the surrounding area. The main deck of this yacht is bigger than my first two apartments combined.
“I’m glad I ran into you,” Adam says as a waiter stops to offer us glasses of champagne.
I take one of the flutes Adam hands me. “Is that so?”
“You brought up an interesting issue last night that I wanted to ask you to expand on.”
“What was that?” I ask, but I'm only half paying attention. While talking with Adam Bachleda is a step in the right direction, I know I’ll get a lot further in this endeavor by speaking with Kyle directly. Though Dean Walsh is focused on taking down Townsend Industries, he has a particular disdain for the Townsend family. Until I figure out how to get out from underneath Dean’s thumb, I need to get closer to Kyle to at least give the appearance that I’m making headway.
“I did a little research on you after our brief discussion last evening,” Adam continues.
I stiffen. For a beat, I think he will reveal that he knows someone from my past.Why the hell does my past keep coming back to bite me in the ass?
“Yes, I spoke with Rick Cortese.”
A sigh of relief spills from my lips.
“How is Rick?” I ask about my former client. Cortese is the owner of a small financial securities firm. He had been having issues with leaks. Through my consulting services, we were able to track down the source of the leaks—which wasn’t a result of malicious intent—and get it sorted out.
“He speaks very highly of you.”
“One can only imagine,” a deep voice says behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. For a second, I hesitate to turn around. But I shake that fear off and turn to meet penetrating hazel eyes burrowing down on me. At this moment, Kyle’s looming over me seems even grander than that of the yacht right before I got onboard.
“Kyle,” Adam greets. “Have you met Riley—”
“Martin,” Kyle finishes, never taking his gaze off me. “I also know she wasn’t on the original invitee list.” His face remains neutral as he says that statement, but there’s an accusation in his eyes that almost has me flinching away.
I’m not a flincher, so I hold his gaze the same way he’s holding mine.
“A friend let me take her place,” I explain.
“Friend’s name?”
I tell him the name I gave Adam Bachleda earlier.
He doesn’t say anything as he lifts his hand and waves one of the security guards over with a flick of his wrist.
“List,” Kyle orders, holding out his hand. He takes the clipboard from the security guard, who has to have at least three inches on him. Yet, the guard looks almost nervous about being this close to Kyle. He quickly hands over the list of names.
“Sharonda Williams,” Kyle murmurs as he scans the list with his finger. He taps the board twice. “Please have my assistant send a get well basket to Ms. Williams’ hotel room.” He gives the guard back the list in an obvious dismissal, then looks at me.
I’m confident that’s his way of telling his security to go and verify that Sharonda is actually in her room sick.
“We hope she feels better soon.”
“I’m sure she will,” I say.
“Kyle, I just mentioned to Riley that I’ve spoken with one of her past clients. He has a lot of wonderful things to say about her work.”
“Of course he does,” he replies, sounding skeptical. Again the words are spoken to Adam, but his eyes are stuck on me. “Adam, what do you say you leave Riley and me to speak alone.” It’s not a request.
Adam Bachleda mentions seeing a few other businessmen he needs to speak with before he leaves the two of us. That’s when Kyle finally looks away from me and watches Adam’s back as he walks away.
“I never pinned you for the type to search for a sugar daddy.”