“My family is Catholic. Trust me, there’s always more of us,” she said, more to herself than to him. Then, she realized he was watching her closely, and a smile she hadn’t seen before curled the corner of his gorgeous lips. Lifting her shoulders, she took a deep breath.
“How many?”
“I have four older brothers.” A fact that usually scared guys away growing up in a small town upstate New York. Too bad it didn’t scare away my ex-husband. That would have saved me a lot of headache. Although, Timothy had taken advantage of the fact they trusted him as a friend to get on their good side and date her. Pursue her. Trap her.
“There seems to be a lot about you I don’t know.” The expression on his face shifted. He stared at her without ceremony, aggressively, like he could slice the invisible barrier between them and extract whatever he wanted. Take it.
She cleared her throat, a bit louder than intended. “I’m not…that exciting.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” he said, his voice almost growly. What the hell was happening? In those three months, he had been friendly and cordial, but never used any innuendos.
For longer than what was appropriate, their gazes met and locked. She parted her lips, and her palm slicked against the iPad. Lord. Three years, and her vagina had been like a comatose patient. Ever since she started to work for him, little signs of awakening threatened to put her whole plan at risk. She believed in paying back. Which was why she had to do this for Matthew.
After all, Matthew scooped her up from the hardest part of her life. He had been her only friend who knew exactly what broke her marriage, and what broke her. He could have been kind and superficial, but no. Matthew took her to the hospital. He held her hand while they stitched her up. He… did all the brotherly things she couldn’t allow any of her brothers to. Because she couldn’t tell them what really happened with Timothy, for everyone’s sake.
A dull sound yanked her from her thoughts, and she blinked a couple of times. He silenced his phone.
“Time for a meeting.” He rose up from his chair, and she stepped back—the immediate response she had gotten used to.
“Yes,” she whispered, and watched him stride out of his office with powerful footfalls. Having the see-through setting was a bit of a distraction. If Holly worked on the twelfth floor, she wouldn’t get any work done for sure. When he turned around the corner, she grabbed her phone from her pocket and glanced at the message.
Get some reports on his nightclub.
She put the phone in her pocket, as if the gadget had just branded her skin. Shit. She eyed his laptop on his desk. Of course he had shared his business password with her, as he often needed her to do stuff for him. Taking a breath deeper than the Pacific Ocean, she peered around. The spacious waiting area and her desk seemed like an eerie oasis. The other assistants to the main executives were far from view. It was lunchtime, and they probably mingled at the cafeteria.
00045B.She had seen him type the password for his personal files a few times. At first, she had been distracted by his long, dark fingers working the sleek keyboard. But then she had come to her senses, and focused.
Slanting another look over her shoulder, she confirmed there was nobody in the area. Even if they saw her, so what? She was his personal assistant. Taking care of his things was in her job description.
A pang of guilt stabbed at her. Great way to rationalize it, Elena. Well, if he in fact was stealing money from the company, he needed to pay for his actions. If he wasn’t, she would report to Matthew and her job would be done. A walk in the park.
She slid onto the chair, and typed his password to get access to his personal account. Maybe, if she dug deeper, she would find financial reports from his club. That had to be motivation, right? If he stole from the company, maybe it was because his other business was going belly up. Maybe…he had even helped Regina with her business. Who cared if rumor had it they were no longer together? Maybe his ex had something else on him. Something bigger, that he had stopped by giving her the club.
The screen popped in front of her, and she went straight for the files, since he was known for saving them on his computer and the USB drive. Well, since the drive was nowhere in sight, she had to have better luck snooping in his things. She searched for his nightclub, spelling out the name. Smolder. Shit. The file was password protected. Could he be using a different password?
She rubbed her forehead, and was about to start trying every number known to man, when she heard strides behind her. Her blood froze. By the time she swiveled her chair in the direction of the door, she heard a certain deep drawl, “Looking for something, Elena?”
Devon stood in the middle of the room, legs apart and shoulders rigid.
“Yes.” She surged to her feet, so quickly that the chair rolled against the polished floor and slammed into the wall. The thumpy sound reverberated through her, and she lifted her hand to her racing heart. “Sorry. You scared me, Mr.— Devon.”
He cocked his head to the side. “What were you doing?”
“I wanted to make sure I didn’t overbook you.”
“But my schedule is on your iPad.”
“Yes, but I’ve been trying to transfer and sync the stuff you have in your calendar with mine.”
He stared at her in silence for a moment. She twisted her hands together, and couldn’t ignore the dampness of her palms. Crap. A beat later, his lips broke into a smile, flashing his white straight teeth. “Of course. Good idea,” he said.
Phew. Off the hook. Or am I?
