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“I thought I was being perfectly clear.”

Myrna's expression is cool. Smug, almost.

I hate her.

I've tried not to. Really.

I've told myself her chilly attitude is none of my business. That whatever feelings she has for Mitchell are between her and her therapist. That I'm here to do a job, not make friends with his assistant.

But right now? Yeah.

I fucking hate her.

“And you're saying he had me investigated.”

“Yes.”

“Professionally?”

She laughs.

“Does Mitchell Knight do anything halfway?”

My stomach twists. I think about that first night. The offer. Thirty days.

Unlimited access—or what felt like it.

Live with him. Travel with him. Watch him. Interview him. Learn him.

At the time, I'd thought it was insane. Then I'd thought it was arrogant. Then intriguing.

Then somewhere along the way I'd stopped questioning why the most private billionaire I'd ever encountered had suddenly opened the doors to his life and invited me inside.

Because I wanted to believe him.

Fuck.

“You're lying.”

Myrna's smile disappears.

“Why would I?”

“Jealousy springs immediately to mind.”

Her eyes flash. Good.

At least that landed.

“You think you're special because he's fucking you?”

And there it is.

Ugly.

Personal.

“Careful, Myrna.”