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Finn smirks, clearly enjoying the standoff far too much. “I need a word. Alone.”
My stomach twists. I swallow hard, then turn on my heel and walk back toward the house.
What the hell could Finn possibly want with my bodyguard?
20
DREW
Finn gestures for me to let him inside, but I don’t move an inch. I’m not letting this prick into my space. Technically it’s his father’s house, but the guest house is mine right now.
Besides, he looks like trouble. A sharp-featured fox in expensive clothes. Tall, lean, zero muscle, all arrogance. Cut from the same cloth as his old man. And from what Grace has told me, he’s also a certified asshole.
“What is it?” I ask, voice flat.
He looks irritated. Good. After a moment, his shoulders drop slightly.
“You have the passwords to the security system, right?” he says.
“Obviously.”
“I need to check something.”
I don’t budge. “Not happening.”
He rolls his eyes—the exact same way Grace does when she’s pissed—and reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out a crisp hundred-dollar bill like it’s supposed to impress me.
Jesus. How desperate does he think I am?
“Fuck off,” I say, already closing the door.
“Five hundred,” he says quickly.
“I don’t want your money.”
“A thousand.”
I keep closing it.
“Ten thousand.”
That gives me pause.
I pull the door back open a crack. It’s not really about the money—though ten grand is ten grand—but the fact that he’s willing to throw it around so casually tells me he’s desperate. And desperate men are useful.
“What’s so important?” I ask.
“None of your business.”
I start closing the door again. His foot shoots out, wedging it open. He’s ballsy. I’ll give him that.
“Fine,” he snaps, straightening up like an extra inch of height might actually intimidate me. “I brought someone over right before I left on my trip. I didn’t know the old man had changed all the codes. I need some footage to disappear.”
I study him for a beat, then step aside and let him in. He doesn’t bother looking around—just heads straight for the laptop on the desk. When he reaches for it, I snatch it away first.
“Date and time?” I ask.
“You don’t need to watch—”
