Page 10 of Conning the Billionaire
“I don’t even know your name,” she said.
The man paused as he regarded her, finally saying with his voice raised just enough to be audible above the din of the slots and the gamblers, “You can keep the handkerchief.”
Oh, yeah. That was supposed to be the reason she was chasing after him.
She held out the white square, which was clean except for a small mascara smudge. “I only dabbed my eyes.”
He smiled, looking like he might almost chuckle, but his previous solemn demeanor rose again. He didn’t take the handkerchief she was holding out. “It was a pleasure to meet you, miss.”
“Are you a nice guy?” she asked him.
The smile fell away from his face, and his ash-blond eyebrows barely flinched toward the bridge of his nose. “Why do you ask?”
“I just, I don’t know, you seem nice.”
The man tilted his head again, and he seemed to evaluate the expression on Kylie’s face. “Are you going to break up with your boyfriend?”
“I already did,” she said.
He squinted at her. “No, you didn’t.”
“Didn’t what?”
“You didn’t break up with him yet.”
Was this guy waiting to make sure she’d broken up with her previous boyfriend before he even asked her out for a drink? Most guys didn’t care. Most guys didn’t even bother to ask whether she was going to break up with the other guy or not. They just saw a vulnerable young woman who might be on the rebound or up for some revenge nookie because they just wanted the score, which was precisely what Kylie wanted them to think.
But jeez, this guy seemed to be going above and beyond in the morals department for someone who’d just yanked off his wedding ring, the hypocrite.
She said, “I told him it was over. I told him I never wanted to see him again.”
The man didn’t blink. “You haven’t had time to text him since I spoke with you.”
Oh damn, the guy was keeping track. She’d either been talking to or running after him since he’d offered her his handkerchief. This guy was sharp, probably too sharp.
Kylie rushed her words. “I’d already texted him and told him we were breaking up before you approached me. That’s why I was crying. I didn’t want to break up with him, but he’s broken my heart so many times.” She touched the bare skin of her chest above her dress’s low neckline, which was where her heart was supposed to be. “I know I’m loyal to a fault, too loyal, but he’d finally pushed even me too far.”
“What was his name again?” the man asked.
Kylie hadn’t said what the fictional boyfriend’s name was, she was pretty sure. Probably. She really hoped she hadn’t made up a name for him. “John?”
“So you broke up with ‘John’?” he asked.
“Yes, of course, I did.”
The guy said, “I don’t think you did,” and turned to leave.
“No! I did. Here, look.”
Kylie unlocked her phone and tapped the message string below where she’d been texting Rita.
The contact’s name at the top read Bae, and her text read, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting for you when I know you’re not going to come. It’s over. You and Miranda deserve each other. Don’t call me. I never want to see you again.
Above her text, messages detailed the decline of their relationship, some of the messages supposedly from John begging her to take him back, some angry and abusive.
She’d used a disposable Internet VoIP phone number to set up the string of texts before going out that night and a spoofing app to make the timestamps appear correct. Manufacturing evidence to make it look real was just basic con strategy. She wasn’t a damned amateur.
The guy’s light eyebrows rose as he read her texts. “Authoritative. I like that.”
