Bryan's POV
I sat in my office the next morning, staring at my computer screen without really seeing it. My mind kept going back to last night, to the kiss, and to the way Alice had looked at me before she went inside her building.
What the hell was I doing? I was supposed to just keep it simple, but I'd kissed her, and now everything was a little complicated. It's a part of it anyway. That was enough to convince her.
My phone buzzed, and it was a text from my father telling me to come for dinner that night.
I sighed and put the phone down. My father never asked; he just commanded. And I always showed up because that's what you did in the Hale family. You did what you were told.
There was a knock on my door, and Antonio walked in without waiting for an answer. He closed the door behind him and sat down across from me.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Good morning to you, too," I said.
"Don't," he said, but his voice was stern.
"I know you took Alice to dinner last night."
I leaned back in my chair. "So what?"
"So what?" Antonio repeated, his eyes narrowing. "So, you lied to her about it being a business dinner; that's what Margaret told me."
"Margaret needs to mind her own business."
"Bryan," Antonio said, leaning forward. "What are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"With Alice," he said. "What are you doing with her? Is this still about the marriage contract, or is it something else now?"
"It's about business," I said flatly.
"Bullshit," Antonio yelled.
"I've known you since we were kids, Bryan. I can tell when you're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"Then why did you take her to La Maison?" he asked. "That's not a business dinner place, and you know it. That's where you take someone you're trying to impress."
"I needed somewhere quiet to talk."
"Your office is quiet," Antonio shot back.
"Your penthouse is quiet. Hell, a coffee shop is quiet. But you chose the most romantic restaurant in the city."
I didn't answer because he was right, and we both knew it.
Antonio sat back and crossed his arms.
"You're catching feelings for her."
"I'm not."
"You are," he insisted. "And that's a problem because you're supposed to be using her. You're supposed to be getting her evidence so you can destroy Sterling & Cross. But instead, you're taking her on dates and probably making this whole thing more complicated than it needs to be."
"It's not a date," I said through gritted teeth.
"Then what was it?" Antonio asked.
I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the city. "I need to know I can trust her. That's all."
"And do you trust her?" he asked.
I turned to look at him. "I don't know yet."
Antonio stood up too and walked over to me. "Bryan, I'm saying this as your friend. Be careful with this. Alice isn't like the other women you've been with. She's not some socialite looking for a rich husband. She's smart, she's been through hell, and she's vulnerable right now."
"I know that."
"Do you?" he asked. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're playing with fire. And when this blows up, someone's going to get hurt."
"It won't blow up."
"It always does," Antonio said quietly. "With you, it always does."
He left before I could respond, and I stood there alone, staring out the window. Maybe he was right, and maybe I was making this too complicated.
My phone rang, and this time it was the private investigator I'd hired to look into Alice's background.
"What did you find?"
"Everything you asked for, Mr. Hale," he said. "But there's something you should know. Someone else has been looking into her, too."
I straightened up. "Who?"
"I don't know yet," he said. "But whoever it is, they're good. They've been tracking her movements, her phone records, everything. They know where she lives, where she works."
"Sterling & Cross?"
"That would be my guess," he said. "They're watching her, Mr. Hale. Closely."
"Send me everything you have now."
I hung up and immediately called my head of security. "I need someone on Alice Reynolds twenty-four seven. I want to know everywhere she goes and everyone she talks to. And I want to make sure no one else is following her."
"Yes, sir," he said.
After I hung up, I sat down at my desk and opened my email. The investigator had already sent the files, and I started reading through them; it was everything about her.
I'd only read about the things I knew before until I saw a file labeled "Recent Activity."
I opened it and froze.