Page 195 of Off Limits Mogul

On the heel of our first ride to Malibu—that included our freaky ride back to Manhattan Beach—I decided to take a refresher motorcycle course. Then, I took a more advanced defensive riding training taught by a former motorcycle stunt rider. The second I can afford it, I’ll buy myself a new bike––something expensive––in the meantime, my boyfriend has offered me carte blanche on his collection.

Gridlock traffic and LA are synonymous, but there’s a small window where the roads aren’t obstructed by a million vehicles. I venture up Sunset Strip, past the iconic Beverly Hills Hotel, and up to Pacific Coast Highway. After a thrilling ride and stopping on the way for homemade ice cream, I retreat to Manhattan Beach. Since I’m running low on gas, I stop in Santa Monica because I don’t want to chance it.

As I fill the tank, I hum a Top 40 catchy song in my head. Once done, I put the gas nozzle back in place. I pull out my wallet and grab Rhys’s credit card and swipe it through the payment machine.

I collect the receipt.

“This must be my lucky day. If it isn’t Keira Weatherly.”

I turn my head.

A bald man I recognize approaches me.

Oh, no. Not him.

“Jedd Maitland from theHollywood Herald. What a coincidence.” He flashes an insincere smile and sticks out his hand.

I ignore it and proceed to stuff the receipt into my wallet.

“No guard dogs today?” he says, scouring the gas station.

I curse under my breath.

“It seems you’re the girl of the hour.”

I keep pretending he’s not standing next to me.

“Rumor has it, renowned designers and brands are throwing themselves at you.”

I wish he’d stop talking, but no, like a little Chihuahua, he yaps along.

“Lots of sponsorship deals to choose from. That’s a windfall of bucks coming your way. Nice work if you can get it.”

I glare at him and fight the urge to inflict pain by striking him with my helmet.

One.

Two.

Three.

I count in my head, forcing myself to calm down.

“Not that you need money, because you’re dating a billionaire. Must be cushy,” he says, smirking. “Does your boyfriend have a brother? Joke. I’m not gay… but for a billionaire I might be…”

Idiot.“Leave me alone, Jedd.”

“Come on, Keira. Don’t you want to get your side of the story out there?”

“I have nothing to say.”

“By keeping quiet, you’re admitting to being guilty.”

Asshole.

My eyes dart to his.

The words are burning my tongue, but as long as I’m under contract, anything I say has an impact on Rhys’s company. I bite my tongue.