Page 49 of Unleashed

Shit. I can’t murder him in front of Zara. I haven’t worked so hard to give her a great life, only to scar her by making her the witness to a homicide.

And she would totally rat me out. Not on purpose. She would just become best friends with whatever detective was investigating the crime, and would accidentally tell them everything.

I force down a few gulps of water, then manage to wheeze out, “We are not now, and never will be, boyfriend and girlfriend.” I kick Trevor under the table as I turn to my sister. “Trevor is my boss.”

My sister starts to nod, eyes wide and understanding.

“I’m not your boss.” Trevor leans closer to Zara, lowering his voice like she’ll be the only one to hear. “Brooke is Maren’s boss.” He shrugs, going back to his plate. “Which is for sure a conflict of interest.”

“How is that a conflict of interest? There’s no rule in the employee handbook that says I can’t be friends with the person I report to.”

Trevor lifts his eyes to my face. The smirk he’s carried most of the evening still in full force. “There’s also no rule in the employee handbook that says you can’t fraternize with another company employee.”

“You’re not a company employee.” I give him a sweet smile. “And everyone knows canoodling with the owner of the company you work for is a terrible idea.”

Instead of seeming deterred, Trevor actually laughs. “Did you just say canoodling?” His laugh gets louder. “When did you become someone’s grandma?”

I slam down my fork. “If you’re going to be a dick, you can go to your own home.”

Zara gasps, one hand flying to cover her mouth. “You can’t say that word.”

“Oh, she can.” Trevor nods, rolling his eyes in my sister’s direction. “Trust me.”

I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this. I’ve busted my ass for the past five years trying to be a good sister. Working hard. Saving money and staying the course, even when shit got tough. So why is the universe doing this to me? Why am I being forced to deal with Trevor Bradshaw?

Oh, that’s right. Because he decided to be weird and park outside my house like a creep.

“At least the worst thing I do is cuss.” I lift my brows in challenge. “Some of us have decided stalking is perfectly normal behavior.”

I expect him to be embarrassed. At least express a modicum of guilt.

But Trevor doesn’t even flinch at me calling him out. He just shrugs again. “You call it stalking. I call it monitoring.”

I scoff. “Monitoring?”

Trevor gives me a single nod, his smirk turning to a grin. “Monitoring.”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You can justify anything, can’t you?”

“I can.” He holds my gaze. “But so can you. That’s why you’ve got six thousand dollars sitting in your account.”

My cheeks instantly get hot at the reminder of what happened yesterday. The agreement I made.

The memory of all it entails.

And Trevor—dick that he is—knows exactly what I’m thinking. Because he leans toward me, his voice deep and delicious as he says, “We can make it seven whenever you want.”

My thighs press together all on their own, muscles flexing in response to the throb of encouragement happening between them.

“I don’t need your seven thousand dollars.” I technically don’t need his six thousand dollars either. I’ve learned to be very good at budgeting over the years. And now that I’m working for Brooke, I’m making more than enough money to not only pay all our bills, but also set some aside for emergencies.

“I need a new tablet.” Zara pipes up, oblivious to the actual conversation she’s trying to take part in. “Mine got dropped and the screen gets fuzzy.”

Trevor stares at me a second longer, before shifting in his seat. For just a second, I think he’s getting up to leave. And I don’t know if that makes me happy or pissed. But then he digs into the pocket of his pants, pulls out a wallet that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe, and slides a black Amex free. He tosses it onto the table in front of my sister. “Buy whatever you want.”

What.

The.