“Remember, Mila’s coming over this afternoon.” I snap my notebook shut. “The security guys aren’t going to give her any hassle?”
“That’s up to her.” He heads over to the door.
I watch him leave, ignoring the sinking feeling in my stomach as the door clicks shut and I'm left alone.
For a moment, I let myself wonder if perhaps last night is replaying in his mind too…
I hope it is, if only to make him suffer. Because I refuse to let myself have such a huge lapse in judgment again.
From now on, Ronan will just have to make do with his hand because he sure as hell isn’t getting any from me.
The data entryis just as mind-numbing as I expected, and I finish the task in less than half an hour. I was hoping it would serve as a better distraction from my filthy thoughts, but no. If anything, they’ve only gotten worse.
By the time I clicksaveand close the spreadsheet, my body is practically vibrating with restless energy. This work is a complete waste of my skills, and Ronan knows that, but I doubt that doing some data entry is going to show him what I’m truly capable of.
I stand and stretch my arms, wincing at the tight muscles in my shoulders as I glance around the office. I was hoping there would be shelves of files or filing cabinets filled with documents that I could go through, but there’s nothing of the sort. The only thing that could be worth going through is the desktop computer, and looking through that would be completely reckless. But it could also be the key to getting me out of this marriage…
My heart hammers in my chest as I glance around the room again, remembering what Ronan said about the cameras. The only rooms off-limits are my own and the bathrooms, which means he could be watching me right now…
The thought sends a shiver down my spine.
“Get a grip,” I hiss under my breath as I take a seat in the enormous leather chair, the seat still warm from where Ronan was sitting in it before.
I exhale slowly before reaching for the keyboard and mouse and typing in a random password combination.
It takes me even less time than the data entry to gain access to the computer, and I can’t help but laugh at Ronan’s pathetic excuse for a password. Considering the fact he’s so fanatical about security, I’d have expected better from him.But nonetheless, I’m grateful for his rookie error, as it means I can finally start digging.
My fingers tremble as I scan through various folders containing payment logs and financial forecasts. It’s nothing out of the ordinary which only piques my interest more.
It’s a littletooclean, which means if there’s dirt, Ronan’s keeping it somewhere else...
“What are you hiding, Ronan?” I open up another folder of even more payment logs.
My pounding heart feels like a ticking clock.
Ronan could come back at any moment and catch me in the act, and if that happens, I’m going to need a rock-solid reason for being on his computer.
I look over his current payment system, groaning as I realize how outdated and inefficient it is. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m reorganizing the entire thing, not just because I need something to do but also if Ronan realizes how skilled I am, he might actually give me a job that keeps me busy for more than five minutes.
It takes me almost two hours to update Ronan’s current system, and there’s no doubt that he’s going to be pissed, but he’ll get over it when he realizes how much better it is.
Maybe he’ll decide to punish me again…
“Jesus Christ,” I groan as I squeeze my thighs together.
I quickly click on a random folder of scanned documents, deciding that I need to keep myself distracted until Mila arrives after lunch. Because if I don’t, I have no doubt that I’ll end up in my room with Ronan’s wedding gift to me between my thighs to try to relieve the ache…and I sure as hell don’t want to get caught doingthat.
I force myself to look through every document, noting the dates and references, and once again, there’s nothing much of interest, which only adds to my foul mood.
How can I be living inside the Sullivans’ lair and not find anything that could be used against them?
I’m about to shut down the computer when I scroll farther down and notice a scanned image with no date or payment reference. I double-click, and an old, faded picture of Ronan’s parents fills the screen.
I recognize Seamus Sullivan immediately, even though he looks barely older than thirty in the picture. There’s a woman standing beside him with her head thrown back as she laughs, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners in a familiar way…
Ronan's mother.
My throat tightens unexpectedly as I stare into Seamus’s eyes.
