The Billionaire Boyfriend Trap Read Free

the edge of Roxburg's busy, concreted business
district. It would be a shame to lose the house, but not a total
loss. Becky's teacher could move elsewhere from the proceeds of the
sale.
    "Kavanagh is expecting opposition?" I asked
Ellen. "Aside from your client, I mean."
    She nodded. "The previous owner was the art
teacher's brother. He sold the building to Kavanagh without
informing his sister. She's apparently furious and is refusing to
leave. The house belonged to their grandmother and her sister died
there. She claims she won't let it be bulldozed and will fight RK
Financial Group all the way if she has to. It's going to be an
interesting evening with those two in the same room."
    "Yeah," I said weakly. "Very interesting."
Particularly for me. Becky would not be happy when she saw me
flirting with the enemy. She didn't know what I did for a living
and I had no intention of telling her. She would fall into that
category of people who considered what I did unethical, even if I
told her I didn't sleep with my targets. Her moral compass always
pointed north. Mine flipped back and forth and sometimes spun
around as if following a drunken magnet. Ellen was right. It would
be an interesting evening.
    ***
    Becky clearly didn't know her teacher's house
had been sold from under her. She was like a ball of nervous
energy, wriggling and talking the entire way to the gallery. I
couldn't get a word in, but that was okay. I was too nervous but in
a different way. Mine was from trepidation, not excitement. I was
used to dealing with OBF (old, bald, fat) billionaires, not hot
guys like Reece Kavanagh. It was easier to get an OBF to develop a
crush on me, but why would someone who could score a model respond
to my lame attempts at flirting? Unlike Ellen, I didn't think the
sexy school teacher type would work on a guy who could get any girl
he wanted.
    "My three pieces will be on the left," Becky
said as we flashed our invitation at the door. She craned her neck
to the left and stood on her toes. She was a little shorter than
me, even in her heeled ankle boots, but only because my heels were
higher.
    I'd changed my outfit after coming home from
Ellen's office. Forget casual, I needed classy sophistication. I
was relieved to see I wasn't entirely out of place. There was at
least one other woman in stilettos and a dress. Hers was cut low at
the front and revealed a boney back whereas mine had a pencil skirt
and modest neckline. Almost everyone else wore jeans, pants or
summer skirts. Becky had chosen jeans and a white shirt, but only
after I advised her against the T with the political slogan printed
on the front. Thankfully she listened to me for once.
    She plucked a glass of champagne off the tray
of a passing waiter and handed it to me. "Want to check out my
pieces first?" she asked, grinning. She hadn't stopped grinning
since getting out of the car.
    "Show me the way."
    She took my hand and pulled me along after
her. I scanned the room, but there was no sign of Reece Kavanagh.
It was still early. The well-dressed woman's gaze met mine then
flicked past me and scanned the room too. I wondered if we were
searching for the same person.
    Becky stopped in front of a painting of a
woman whom I recognized as her teacher, Cassie. It was mostly
various shades of gray except for Cassie's hair painted with a
bright splash of red. On closer inspection, the strands were
different shades of red and orange, giving the hair depth and
bringing it to life. It was a vibrant yet evocative piece with
Cassie's eyes downcast, her long lashes shadowing her cheeks.
    "You did this?" I said to Becky.
    She tucked her blonde hair behind her ear
even though it was too short to stay and popped right back out
again. Her grin broadened. "You like it?"
    "Hell yeah. It's amazing. Cassie looks
beautiful."
    "Cass is beautiful."
    "How much is it?" I asked, turning back to
the picture. "I want to buy it."
    "It's already sold." Becky pointed to the
attached tag. "Someone bought