Page 14 of Tristan’s Temptation

With a swift, angry flick, he opened his laptop and logged on to Virtual Life. The usual scene opened and he fought a flare of mild annoyance at his pathetic hunger. He hated that he needed this, but he did.

He settled back in his seat as the instance opened. He immediately knew something was different. The shock froze him in place. He’d played this instance every day, sometimes more than once, and it was always identical. He’d programmed it like this. But now…

Now when Virtual Shannon walked into the room, she wasn’t wearing a tight leather skirt, form-hugging belly shirt and slick leather boots. She was wearing a decorous tweed skirt and…shit! A blouse suspiciously identical to the one Shannon was wearing today.

What the hell?

“You wanted me?” she purred in a throaty voice, as she always did.

“Care to take some…dictation?”

“Of course.”

The instance continued on in its usual cheesy manner but Tristan barely noticed. He was poleaxed. There was only one explanation for the change in the scene.

Last night, Shannon had accessed his Green Door files and made some wardrobe adjustments. He should be furious but how could he be, when he’d hacked her private files as well?

That she knew he’d created an instance about her gave him pause. He’d had no idea this morning that she’d discovered his dirty little secret. She’d given nothing away.

Technically, she could sue him for all he was worth. Technically, creating a virtual sexual scenario featuring one of one’s employees was way, way, way over the line. The fact that she’d done the same—created an instance where he was tied to a chair, for example—was irrelevant. He was the boss. It was incumbent upon him to protect his employees from anyone who would take undue advantage of their position. Even himself.

Especially himself.

What he’d done, dressing her like a trollop and programming her to suck him off like a common whore, had been despicable. A wash of shame flooded him. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t. No wonder she’d gone in and changed poor Virtual Shannon’s clothes.

Aw hell.

He scrubbed at his jaw with his palm. Could this get any worse?

Apparently it could. A soft knock on the door ripped him from his morose reverie.

“Come.” He combed his fingers through his hair in an attempt to make himself presentable.

“Mr. Trillo?”

It was her. She opened the door a crack and poked her head around. He stared at her, her corkscrew curls and fawn-like eyes, her heart-shaped face and dimpled chin. God help him. Desire and fury stabbed at him, twin blades in his gut.

He willed his passion to calm. He didn’t want to screw this up. He really didn’t. “Shannon.”

“May I speak with you?”

He sighed heavily. This was it. It was time. “Please. Come in.”

She edged into the room, closed the door behind her and turned to him, clasping her steno pad before her. He opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure how to begin.

Her tongue, tiny and pink, swept out to dampen her lips and he blurted out the thing hovering at the tip of his brain. “Adam says you’re looking for another job.”

She flinched. Obviously that wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. She cleared her throat and whispered, “Would that please you?”

Please him? Hell, it would kill him. “No!” This, he snarled with such vehemence she stepped back. He clenched his teeth and forced himself to calm down. “Sorry. I’m just… I don’t… I’m not good at this,” he finally finished in a huff.

“Good at what?”

He frowned. “Apologies.”

She shook her head, bemused. “Apologies? For what?”

He favored her with a meaningful glance. “I think we both know. I went on Virtual Life just now.”