I set my laptop in the briefcase and cover the folder with my hand, preparing to slide it off and hide it away, but Dagen holds his hand up and reaches for the folder.
“Is that other folder for me, too?” he asks. “More information?”
I immediately cover the name further with my hand as if that’ll somehow hide it. He’s already seen his name on there, but panic seizes me so suddenly, I forget every smooth line I could have possibly said. He reaches for it when I try to slide it toward me and his large hand pulls it back his way.
“No, wait!” I say, standing from my chair and leaning over the desk in an attempt to take it, my fingers wrapped around the top edge as he lifts it. The manila folder crinkles.
He looks up at me, pausing, his brows raised as he waits for an explanation for my sudden lack of professionalism. I’m practically splayed across his desk right now, but my fingers refuse to let go of the file.
“I. . .” I begin, not sure what to say. “I shouldn’t have even brought that in here. It was unprofessional of me. Please, give it back.”
His brows shoot up impossibly higher, but his eyes darken with interest, his gaze taking in my panic before falling down to the folder. When his gaze flicks back up to mine, I know I’ve just fucked everything up.
“Ms. Hutcherson, what trouble are you stirring?” he purrs, and it shoots through my body like a threat. Problem is, I kind of like it. The dampness between my thighs pools despite my panic.
“Don’t open it,” I rasp. “Please. I’ve changed my mind.”
But he gently tugs the folder from my fingers, careful not to hurt me. His eyes remain on me as he flips the folder open and then he looks down, and. . .
That’s it. I’m going to lose my job.
Fuck. What the fuck was I thinking?
Nine
Dagen
I stare at the first page inside the folder in confusion. There’s a picture there of the COO of Aria Tech. There’s a whole profile on him listed, his assets, his connections, like someone ran a background check on him. I flip the page and see more information about him. Another page and suddenly I’m looking at information about the program I’d just had a meeting with Ric about, one that Ava seems to know better than the man pitching it to me.
“What is this?” I ask darkly. If the program has already been leaked, it’s useless to me. Worse, if Ric is shopping it around to other companies, I’ll have to make moves before I’d like to. I don’t like not being in control.
Ava stands in front of me. She’s straightened up off my desk, her hands smoothing down her suit. It’s for the best. The way she’d leaned over my desk had brought filthy things to mind, things I shouldn’t be thinking about a business partner. I make it a habit not to mix business with pleasure, but for a brief moment, I’d considered breaking that rule.
Before, she’d been confident and collected. Now she stands before me shaking. She’s afraid now, and I immediately don’t like it. Something in my chest tightens at the fear in her eyes as she stares at the folder in my hands.
“I’m sorry,” she croaks. “It was unprofessional of me. I should have never brought that here, and I. . . I have a little girl. I can’t afford to lose this job.”
So, she’s a mother. That’s why she seems so organized and thorough with her marketing plan. My own mother was a wizard when it came to organization. That’s where I learned it from, so Ava being a mom isn’t surprising. What is surprising is that she brought something in here as a possible pitch and then chickened out before she could bring it up. She’d held back because she was trying to be professional, but now my curiosity has gotten the better of me. What is this? What does it mean? And honestly, I need to know what she knows about this program Aria Tech is trying to pitch to me anyway.
I set the folder down on the desk and lean back in my chair. “I’ll hear whatever this is, and your job is safe, I assure you. No matter what you say. It’d be foolish of me to create discord when you’re the most promising marketing director I’ve worked with.”
Her shoulders visibly ease, but she’s still tense as she takes a seat in the chair again, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breathing. Fuck if it doesn’t make me want to see it rising like that for a different reason.
She takes a deep breath and winces before leaning forward and tapping on the picture. “I assume you know Ricardo?”
I nod. “Of course. The COO of Aria Tech, a company currently contracted with my company and trying to pitch new tech.” I meet her eyes. “The question is, how do you know him?”
She twists her hands together tightly, and I think she won’t say. Her fear is ruling her, but to my surprise, she straightens and tips up her chin. She seems to calm herself right before my eyes, committing to this now that there’s no choice.
Her gaze is level on mine when she says, “he’s my ex-husband and the sperm donor for my daughter.”
I blink in surprise. Well now, this just took a very interesting turn.
I lean forward, my elbows braced on my desk, and smile. “Go on,” I encourage.
Dig his grave. Please. I’d love nothing more than to see Ricardo McCoy burn.
Ten
