Chapter 168: I’m in Trouble, Aren’t I?

Chapter 168: I’m in Trouble, Aren’t I?
Grayson glanced at me, then at the phone in my hand. “Still on the call?” I nodded slowly. “Yes.” He gave me a faint smile. “I gathered that.” Elliot’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Hi, Grayson.” Grayson looked directly at the phone. “Hello, Elliot.” I closed my eyes. Well, I thought, there goes the last remaining piece of my dignity. For a few seconds, nobody said anything. Not even the television, which I had previously accused of having the ability to say my name. I could practically hear Elliot’s brain working on the other end of the call. He had the kind of silence that meant he was mentally opening a detective board and pinning photographs to it. Meanwhile, Grayson stood in my doorway holding my passport, looking completely relaxed, while I stood there with one hand still on the door and the other clutching my phone like it was a legal defense document. 
I stared at it. Then at him. Then at the passport again. My passport. The one thing I had apparently forgotten in the lobby five minutes after arriving in Scotland. Of course. Because apparently traveling internationally with three suitcases, a backpack, and enough snacks to survive a small natural disaster wasn't enough for me. I also had to leave behind the one document that actually proved I was allowed to be in the country. “You left this downstairs,” Grayson said calmly. I slowly reached for it, trying to look like this was completely normal. “I knew that.” His eyebrow lifted. “You knew you left your passport in the lobby?” “Yes.” I nodded confidently. “I was testing the hotel staff.” Excellent, Liela. Brilliant. Absolutely believable. Grayson handed it to me. “And how did that test go?” “They passed.” He stared at me for a second, and I could practically see the judgment forming behind his eyes. 

I’ll keep the focus on Liela desperately trying to get Grayson out of the situation before Elliot starts interrogating them, with her usual panic and humor.
I immediately stepped between Grayson and the phone, as if my body could somehow block Elliot’s view through a video call. “Okay, thank you,” I said quickly, taking my passport from Grayson and clutching it against my chest. “You can go now.” Grayson looked at me. Then at the phone. Then back at me. “I was actually going to tell you something.” “Wonderful,” I said with a bright smile that probably looked more like a warning. “Tell me later.” “It concerns tomorrow’s schedule.” “Even better. Tomorrow has plenty of hours.” I started gently pushing him backward by the arm, trying to move him away from the doorway before Elliot could begin his investigation. Unfortunately, Grayson seemed to find my sudden urgency entertaining. He didn't move. Not even an inch. “Liela,” Elliot said from the phone. I froze. “Yes?” “Why are you pushing Grayson?” I looked down at my hand, still resting on Grayson's arm. Because apparently I have forgotten how to behave like a normal adult. I immediately let go. “I wasn't pushing him.” Grayson glanced at me. “You were.” “I was guiding you.” “Toward the hallway?” “Yes.” “With both hands?” I stared at him. “Do you want to survive this conversation?”
Elliot made a suspicious noise. “Why are you trying to get him to leave?” “Because he has things to do.” Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Do I?” I nodded aggressively. “Yes. Very important things.” “Such as?” “Business.” “What business?” “Your business.” He looked genuinely amused now. “That's not very specific.” “It doesn't need to be.” I turned slightly toward the phone and smiled. “See? Everything is perfectly normal.” Elliot was silent for a moment. “Liela, you sound nervous.” “I'm not nervous.” “You are speaking very quickly.” “That's because I'm efficient.” “You just told Grayson he has business when you don't even know what it is.” “Exactly. Efficient.” Grayson actually laughed under his breath. I glared at him. “Please stop enjoying this.” “I'm trying,” he said. “You're not trying very hard.” Elliot suddenly spoke again. “Okay, Grayson, I have a question.” I felt my stomach drop. “No.” Both of them looked at me. I cleared my throat. “I mean… no need. I'm sure Grayson has somewhere to be.” “I don't,” Grayson said calmly. “Of course you do,” I replied immediately. “You have… billionaire things.” Elliot went quiet. “Billionaire things?” I nodded. “Very busy. Very important. Probably involves spreadsheets.” Grayson folded his arms. “I don't actually have any spreadsheets.” “Then invent some.”
I grabbed the door handle and started inching Grayson toward the hallway again. “Thank you for returning my passport. I appreciate your heroic service. Truly. Scotland will remember your sacrifice.” “I'm standing right here,” he said. “Exactly, and you should continue standing right there.” He looked at me for a long second before saying, “You want me to leave.” “Yes.” “Because Elliot is on the phone.” “No.” I paused. “I mean, not because of that.” “Then why?” “Because…” I looked around the room for inspiration. The bed. The curtains. The television. The fancy bathtub. None of them were going to save me. “Because I need to unpack.” Grayson glanced at my three suitcases sitting exactly where I'd abandoned them. “You've been here for several minutes.” “I like to emotionally prepare.” “For unpacking?” “It's a demanding process.” Elliot suddenly laughed. “She’s definitely lying.” I pointed at the phone. “You are supposed to be on my side!” “I am on your side. That's why I'm concerned.” “Concerned about what?” “Everything.” I sighed. Wonderful. Elliot had reached the everything stage. That was never good. Grayson stepped back at last, finally giving me the escape I desperately needed. “I'll see you downstairs later,” he said. I nodded quickly. “Perfect. Excellent. Wonderful. Goodbye.” He gave me that faint, knowing smile again. “Good luck.” “With what?” “Unpacking.” Then he walked away.
I watched him disappear down the hallway before slowly closing the door. I leaned against it and let out the longest breath of my life. “He's gone,” I whispered. “For now,” Elliot replied. I opened my eyes. “Why did you say it like that?” “Because I have questions.” “Of course you do.” “A lot of questions.” “I don't like the sound of that.” Elliot adjusted his phone, giving me the look he usually reserved for situations where he suspected I had made a terrible decision and was about to make another one.