Chapter 5
BERNADETTE CRENSHAW
Iwatch from the corner of my eye as he leaves the table, my head lowered and gaze on the floor. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s really gone and notice Bruno and Nero haven’t moved from their positions outside the restaurant archway—my new watchdogs it looks like. Just peachy.
Jesus, I really shit the bed this time if this is what I have to look forward to.
My shoulders slump, and the waistband of my yoga pants digs into my waist uncomfortably when I slouch into the seat. The move reminds my body that I have a stomach and haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning, and suddenly, the meal in front of me is mouthwatering.
Before I know it, half of the food on my plate has been demolished, practically inhaled once the first bite melted in my mouth, and I note that whatever Frank is paying his chefs, isn’t nearly enough.
I lean back and slap a hand across my round, shirt-covered stomach and rub there. Man, that was good.
“Fat and sassy,” I whisper to myself sarcastically, but genuinely sated for what feels like the first time in months. During one of her mood swings, grandma fired her chef, which resulted in a lot of takeout. After living off ramen the last two days, this has been a real treat.
I dab at my mouth with a napkin and push away from the table, tossing a leg under myself to get more comfortable. My thoughts rebound to my current predicament.
I never can think on an empty stomach.
Maybe I figure out what happened to his precious company, because there’s no way in hell I caused twelve million in damages. I wasn’t even in the system long enough to cause real havoc.
But if it turns out I did—I am so screwed because it will take every bit of money I have, plus the sale of the brownstone, to come up with that kind of cash. I reach up to toy with my Hello Kitty necklace through my sweater, needing to fiddle with something, but also wondering if it will be useful.
Bought on a whim, the tiny key logger can be used to break into practically anything, if I can access it anyway, which means getting into an office somewhere in the building.
Frank Stein knows I hacked him, hacked him ish. Which probably means I won’t be allowed much of anywhere, at least I wouldn’t give me the keys to the castle either, were I him. Not that I need the keys.
A frown pulls at my lips. It’s almost offensive that I wasn’t even patted down.
Then again—a shiver rolls through me at how in another lifetime this whole scenario could be super hot. Frank playing good cop bad cop with my pussy would be sizzling.
I mean, yeah, they took my purse, which has a couple of other fun gadgets—but nothing to write home about. Most of my equipment is back home in my apartment, unfortunately.
I push the cold diamond-studded Hello Kitty pendant between my lips, sliding the chain back and forth as I try to think back on what I could have done wrong. I distinctly remember tracing back and hiding my tracks. I didn’t extract anything, no one should have even known I was there.
A sharp bark of laughter rings out, and I glance toward the door, where Bruno and Nero are now punching each other and laughing like hyenas, and sigh. Typical. Now that I don’t have to wonder if I’m going to be killed, the whole situation is looking up.
I unfold my legs from my chair and cross them at the ankle, wiggling to get comfy after sitting still for so long and try to listen to their words, but find they’re too far away to ear hustle properly.
The opportunity will come up if I’m stuck here long enough.
The way men always underestimate women is sometimes sickening.
Then again, I’m not so sure which buttons of Frank’s I’m ready to push just yet.
If his first choice is threatening family and pets, it makes it crystal clear that Frank Stein knows exactly what the buttons do.
Because I will do anything for my cat.
I found Edgar outside my apartment one day when an ex-neighbor of mine, a mean old lady, kicked him with her booted shoe and sent him flying in the air and slamming into the nearby brick gateway.
He was only a fluffball of a kitten meowing at the apartment complex doors begging for scraps, the poor thing.
I took him to the vet, and once he was bandaged from a broken leg and got the all clear, he became my Edgar Allan Paw, my best friend.
I then told that old bitch if she ever kicked an animal in my presence again, I would give her a beating she would never forget—old lady or not.
After that, I tossed every piece of mail delivered to her that sat outside too long into the street, and I’d cackle as taxis drove over it while daring her to say anything.
She moved out after a couple of months, unable to handle my pettiness, and now a nice couple have her apartment along with several animals. Good riddance.
If Frank Stein thinks to hurt Edgar, I don’t know what I’d do to him, scary billionaire or not. I would fuck him every which way to Sunday, disappear, and make him beg for me to come back just to see him on those big knees of his.
I think most women would be turned off at how emotionless his stare is, at how merciless his gaze, but those gray eyes do something to my pussy. They’re so cold and menacing, completely at odds with how the media portrays him, and I wasn’t expecting my reaction to him at all.
His presence is indescribable, and a ripple of need goes through me at how his gaze bore into mine as if he could see my soul.
Dammit.
I want to hate fuck Frank Stein.
My head raises at the sounds of boot heels marching into the room, and I look up to see the man from earlier, Mikael, I think Frank said his name was, walking toward me with a manila envelope in his hand.
He nods his head in a friendly manner as my brows crinkle across my forehead. I wonder what he wants.
“Miss Crenshaw, now that you’ve had a bite to eat, I wondered if you would come with me, please?” Mikael asks, his voice cultured and low, but I can’t place the accent.
The black suit and tie he wears make him look like an FBI agent in a B-rated movie, and he holds his hand out, gesturing for me to get up and follow him.
“Where are we going?” I ask, a bit confused when the meathead twins don’t make a move to try and make me cooperate.
“To my offices, my team is waiting there to meet you,” he says, as if I’m here on a pleasure trip.
“Umm, okay.” I get to my feet and clasp my hands together, understanding there’s probably an easy way and a hard way to all of this, and I get the strong feeling Mikael is the easy way.
“Very good,” he says and starts for the doorway.
My nose wrinkles when we pass by Bruno and Nero. Bruno offers me a wink as Nero scowls and obviously pretends I don’t exist.
We make our way through another bland beige hallway, and after a short elevator ride later, we come to a set of glass double doors. Computers line the walls inside as people work in cubicles, the soft sounds of chatter entirely blocked from the outside, as if soundproofed.
The cacophony of voices is like a crescendo when Mikael opens the door, but it comes to a startling halt, reminiscent of a record scratch, when I step inside.
“Here,” Mikael says, pulling out a desk chair and gesturing for me to sit at the computer while he hands me the folder.
“I don’t understand,” I start to say, completely confused at how they would immediately give me access to anything like this.
“I think you’ll be interested to see what’s in that file,” he says.
I flip through the pages and realize he’s right. If what this says is true, not only did I assist someone in hacking into Talbot, but they used my coding to make it look like I did it, after hijacking their system.
“I didn’t do this,” I blurt.
“Oh, we are fully aware. We need you to combat the leak and find all known locations of the company that did.” Mikael states, and I notice the gathering crowd of people moving to circle my new desk, obviously waiting to watch and see what I did.
“Shit,” I say, and sit back in the desk chair.
I take a cursory glance again and sweat begins to bead across my forehead. This is some really incriminating stuff, no wonder Frank is so pissed.
“Find out where they’re operating, and then you’re going to help us crack their system.”
“What?! No way, absolutely not,” I say, his idea absolutely ridiculous.
I may have played around a few times infiltrating where I’m not supposed to, and I know I’m really good, better than most, but there’s no way in hell I am doing anything that could catch jail time.
Well, more jail time, I’m pretty sure I would be locked away if Frank Stein ever let this get out.
“I mean this with the utmost respect, but my hair will clash so hard with orange and jumpsuits are so out of style. I’d rather not. ”
A cute brunette woman, her skin flawless and eyes kind, snickers over my shoulder, and I can’t help but return an answering grin. Another blonde peeks over a frosted cubicle wall and quirks her pretty brow.
Mikael’s expression transforms, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes stretching across his tan face, just as he snaps his fingers, sending everyone rushing back to their workstations.
“Hey, you can’t just snap your fingers at people like that,” I say, outrage coloring my tone from where I sit.
“I suggest you remember exactly what is at stake here and get to work,” he replies coldly.
I drag a hand roughly through my hair, completely on edge and scared in more ways than one. If I do this, I can most certainly face prison. I look up into Mikael’s soulful brown eyes, but he quirks a brow as if to say, don’t test me.
Oh buddy, I am so testing.
“Where is Frank?” I ask, wanting to take my chances with the devil I know. I scoot the rolling desk chair closer to the black surface where the keyboard sits, wondering what kind of locking mechanism is on all of the doors in this place.
“Waiting for you to fucking get on with it before I lose my patience,” comes Frank’s cold voice directly behind me.
I lean back, pushing my chair obnoxiously until Frank’s pissy face is upside down and a grin pulls at the corners of my lips.
“Get out,” he says, in reply, the sharpness of his gaze and immobile features making it exceedingly clear he is not amused by my antics.
I smirk to myself and scramble to get up as his minions move to do his bidding, each one hustling toward the door.
“Not you,” he barks out.
Effectively stopping me from getting up from my desk, he crowds my chair, keeping me from escaping too. My gaze darts up to his and a sense of foreboding chases down my back.
“I’m taking lunch, then,” Mikael says, moving to grab a coat off the back of a computer chair. “The file groups are all labeled and alphabetized. Good luck, Miss Crenshaw,” he remarks.
Suddenly, Frank and I are alone.
I stare up at him, and as always, the sheer size of him has me wanting to bite my lip.
I wonder if I will need climbing boots to mount him.
A lusty feeling of warmth races through me, starting at my toes before tingling in my center, making my nipples harden in response.
Maybe I really can get a chance to ride his dick before I escape.
It has to be a miracle to see. Plus, nothing about him says ‘I get emotionally attached.’
He’s perfect.