Timothy wasn't about to refuse my suggestion. I could see the curiosity burning in his eyes—he wanted to dig deeper into Phoebe's story.
Something felt wrong about this whole situation. Call it instinct, but I was convinced there were layers to this mess that none of us had uncovered yet.
"Go," I said, my voice cutting through the morning air. I wasn't in the mood for Timothy's mind games, and we both knew he wouldn't actually disobey a direct order.
"Fine!" Timothy shot up from his chair, but held up a hand. "Let me make one thing crystal clear—I'm not interested in her that way. I don't want to end up with a black eye over some bullshit accusation."
Sunlight streamed through the study windows, painting everything in golden hues. It should have been peaceful, but tension crackled between us.
"Go." I dismissed his concerns with a wave. My attention shifted to Flynn as Timothy left. "I want updates by morning. No exceptions."
