Two hours later, I’m rushing through the VSE lobby, having finally made it home to shower and change into a proper suit. I’m never late.Never.But leaving Thatcher’s bed had required more willpower than I possessed.
Thatcher is already at his desk when I arrive, looking perfectly professional in a crisp shirt and tie. The only sign of our night together is the careful way he’s arranged his collar to hide the marks I left on his throat.
“Good morning, Mr. Dellcourt,” he says in a teasing tone, following me into my office, holding his tablet and a mug of coffee.
I try to ignore the way he sits on the chair in front of mydesk. “You’re late. Very unlike you. Did something distract you?”
I bite the inside of my cheeks to stop from smiling. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Something was very,verydistracting.”
His smile is pure mischief. “Don’t worry, I covered for you. Told everyone you had an early morning dentist appointment.”
“Dentist?”
“Well, I couldn’t exactly say you were busy putting your mouth to better use, could I?” The words are quiet enough that no one outside my office could hear, but my body still reacts all the same.
I clear my throat, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. “Was there something you needed to tell me?”
“Oh yes,” he says, straightening. “Lior wants to see you as soon as you’re in. He came over, looking like a man with a plan.”
“Any idea what kind of plan?”
Thatcher’s eyes sparkle with barely contained laughter. “The kind that hopefully doesn’t involve him asking why his CFO showed up to work late, with a hickey poking through his shirt collar and looking thoroughly…satisfied.”
“Thatcher,” I warn, but there’s no heat in it.
“What? I’m just saying, you have a very distinctive post-orgasm glow. Very becoming, actually.” He picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip while maintaining perfect eye contact. “Now go see what the boss wants. The other boss, I mean.”
As I walk toward Lior’s office, I can feel Thatcher’s eyes on me, and I have to fight the urge to turn around and drag him into the supply closet.
Three more hours until lunch. I can survive three more hours.
Lior’s door is open, and he looks up the moment I appear. “Close the door,” he says quietly.
I do, then take the seat across from his desk. “Sorry I’m late. I had to?—”
“Pierce.” He cuts me off with a raised hand. “I need you to go to New York. Next week.”
The abrupt statement throws me. “New York? What for?”
“I had an idea to speed up our strategy with James.” Lior leans back in his chair. “I want to test our leak theory.”
“How?”
“You’re going to leave some very specific, very false information in an unlocked drawer in your office. The sort of intel that would be irresistible to James, especially if he believes it’s confidential information that even the board doesn’t know yet.” His smile is sharp.
“What do you have in mind?”
“You’re going to write a detailed report about the declining profits in Europe as a result of their increased trade with China. And you’re going to suggest we close the European operations, which would, of course, mean massive layoffs. But for anyone to take the bait, you can’t be here. If you’re in the building, they won’t risk going through your office.”
The logic is sound, especially given there are legitimate concerns about European trade with China, even if it hasn’t yet affected VSE.
“I need you out of the building for at least three days. The East Coast office has been asking for a financial review—it’s the perfect cover.”
“And Thatcher?”
“Goes with you, obviously. As your assistant, he’d naturally accompany you on business travel.”
My heart hammers against my ribs. Three days in New York with Thatcher. The thought terrifies and thrills me in equal measure.
