Page 62 of Conning the Billionaire
BETRAYAL
MICAH
Micah drove sedately through the afternoon Philadelphia traffic, which was as bad or worse than Boston or New York in his estimation.
Despite how carefully he was driving, not indulging in any of his usual maneuverings to slip through the rolling gridlock, Kylie seemed to vibrate with tension. Her hand was locked around the door’s armrest. Her other hand gathered the fabric of her black dress in her fist. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
He asked her, “Do you get carsick?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Micah drove even more gently, finessing the brakes at stop lights to alight as delicately as a butterfly and accelerating like a light breeze. “If you need me to pull over, let me know.”
“I’m fine.”
Once they were out on the NJ-73 South highway leading from Philadelphia back to Atlantic City, Micah put the car on cruise control and held it rock-solid in the center of the lane. “You feeling better?”
“I’m not carsick.”
“It’s two hours back to AC.”
“I know how far it is. Just get me out of Philadelphia.”
Micah accelerated to a comfortable number above the speed limit. “Your wish is my command.”
After a couple entirely silent hours of Kylie staring out the passenger window and her knuckles bleached from squeezing her fists white, Micah pulled into the Ocean Resort’s parking garage and jogged around the car to open her door for her.
She stumbled, her ankles bending as she wobbled in her high-heeled shoes.
“Jesus, Kylie. What the hell happened in there?”
“Nothing.”
He held the door to the elevators for her. “Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.”
They rode up to the lobby in silence, staring at the doors in parallel.
“I say, are you sure there’s not something—”
“Do you have the first installment of the money or not?”
Micah said gently, “Let’s stop at the front desk. It should have been couriered over.”
She scowled. “People just walk around with packets of that kind of money and hand them to hotel desks?”
“I’ll have to sign for it.”
She rolled her lovely dark eyes. “Oh, well, if you have to provide a signature for them to hand it to you, I’m sure it’s safe as houses.”
Micah chuckled, and the elevator doors slid open to the crowd milling around the lobby. “Here we are.”
At the front desk, Micah asked for the package, signed for it, and handed the shoebox-sized parcel to Kylie to hold while they rode up to their suite.
Kylie pressed the package against her chest and folded her arms over it. She ducked her head and looked around wildly, flinching when a couple approached the desk window next to theirs.
As they walked, he whispered, “A little more casual, perhaps.”
