Chapter Twenty-Six
“Stop! You can’t go in there!” Corona’s assistant sprang to her feet.
He stormed past her and burst into his sister’s office. She looked up from her desk, and a smug grin flickered before she masked it.
He loomed over her desk. “If you ever countermand a requisition of mine again, you’ll be sorry.”
Savannah had spent the night at his apartment.
This morning, wearing one of his shirts to cover her torn dress, she took his vehicle to her apartment to change for work.
He’d gone straight to the office and called the vehicle pool, whereupon he’d learned the vice president of Personnel had canceled the vehicle reservation.
Since his father’s death, he and his sister had waged a quiet war. For the most part, he’d picked his battles, ignoring her dirty tricks, preferring to focus on designing, believing his inventions and contributions to company profitability would best prove he’d earned the right to lead OberTech.
This could not be ignored. Corona had involved Savannah. An assistant who had no fault in any of this, and the woman he loved.
“Are you threatening me?” his sister asked.
“Yes.”
“How dare you!” She leaped to her feet.
“Pull anything like this again, and you’ll find out what I dare,” he said.
“Per company policy, only employees level four or higher, i.e., executives, may use company vehicles. Furthermore, your GAL Friday assistant isn’t an employee—she’s contract labor.” She crossed her arms.
“She walks to work. She was attacked by a dorian going home the other night.”
“That’s unfortunate, but how she gets to and from work is not a company concern.
We have a limited number of vehicles, and company policy does not permit you to give one to your assistant.
If you paid more attention to your department instead of flekking the human, the company might not be in the mess it’s in.
Which raises another point—it’s no wonder you can’t keep assistants if you keep diddling them! ”
He clenched his fists. “If you were a man, you’d be flat on the floor.”
Corona’s assistant and a security officer rushed in. “Are you all right?” the guard asked.
“I’m fine. He was just leaving,” Corona replied.
Stratos stomped through the corridors to cool down before returning to his office. He’d allowed his sister to get under his skin, and he’d handled that badly. He’d pretty much confirmed he and Savannah had a relationship.
So much for being discreet. He hated to keep breaking his promises. He’d promised her a vehicle—and she’d had to walk home. He’d promised discretion—and he’d let news of their affair reach his sister. It wouldn’t be long before everyone was aware they were sleeping together.
* * * *
Savannah was at the kaffii machine when he entered. She wore navy pants and a white blouse, a typical outfit, except for the colorful scarf around her neck. He eyed the pants with a touch of amusement. Typical attire or not, she was making a statement.
In hindsight, he should not have engaged in office games, but he did not regret their sexual relationship. She was the best thing to happen to him—and now, he had to tell her what he’d done.
She turned and greeted him with a smile. “I expected you sooner.”
“I checked on the vehicle,” he opened with the safer topic.
Her scarf covered the mark he’d left on her neck.
There were a couple more, one on her inner thigh near her pussy and another on her breast. He hadn’t marked her on purpose, but he kind of liked seeing the evidence of his claim on her body.
But she hadn’t been pleased when she saw the marks this morning.
After dinner, they’d retreated to the bedroom.
She’d lit up at the sight of the huge bathing basin, so they’d taken a bath together, which led to her giving him a blow job, and then he’d carried her to bed.
They didn’t get much sleep. Like he’d told her, their relationship was only going to get hotter.
Now, it was also getting complicated.
“Come into my office,” he said.
She followed him in, setting a kaffii and nuknuk on his desk.
“Have a seat.”
She winced as she lowered herself into a chair.
“Is your pussy sore?” He had pounded her pretty hard last night. She liked it a little rough, begged for harder when he eased up, fearing he was being too forceful.
“This is what I’m talking about. This is the kind of conversation we can’t have at the office. If you called me in here to talk about my pussy, I’m leaving.”
He’d much rather talk about her pussy than what he had to tell her. “I found out what happened to the vehicle I requisitioned. Corona canceled it. She says it’s against company policy, which, technically, it is, but mainly she did it because she knows about us.”
“I told you this would happen!” Glowering, she leaped to her feet.
“I don’t think I made the situation any better,” he confessed.
“What did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything. But when she accused me of sleeping with you, I didn’t deny it, and she took that as confirmation.”
“Your mother filled her in.”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe it won’t go any further.”
“Maybe...maybe not,” he hedged. The battle for the company had degenerated into an all-out war, and Corona didn’t fight fair, the cancellation of the vehicle being her latest tactic to flek with him.
The thefts coming from his department would embolden her further.
Attacks would become more brazen and more frequent.
She wouldn’t worry about collateral damage.
Savannah sighed. “I guess what’s done is done, and what happens, happens.”
“You’re not mad?”
“No. I kind of knew we wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret. Maybe your way is more realistic. Don’t flaunt it, but don’t hide it.” She paused. “Is there anything special you need me to do today?”
“No. At least, not yet.”
“Well then, I’ll catch up on the usual stuff.”
“Come to my apartment after work.”
“I will.”
“If you bring fresh clothes, you won’t have to rush home in the morning.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday.”
“So, it is.” He smiled, envisioning the weekend.
She touched her throat. “Try not to mark me.”
“I’ll try.” He knew better than to promise.
“At least not above the shoulders.” She turned and headed for the door, her hips swaying, pants-covered buttocks taunting him.
* * * *
He hated to admit it, but perhaps RCI had been right to withhold the names of the suspects.
He had no reason to go to the lab, but, by midafternoon, he found himself walking through the area, scrutinizing employees, wondering, Is it him?
Is it her? He felt as if the theft was a personal attack on him.
An exacting boss, he didn’t abide sloppiness, laziness, or incompetence, but he’d considered himself fair and thought he had earned his employees’ respect. So convinced the leak had to come from Production or Marketing, he’d been oblivious to what was going on in his own department.
In the sterile, white lab, cameras were trained on employees and monitored by Oberian personnel while android guards patrolled on the catwalk.
Every tap, every swipe, every employee finger drag got tracked to their ID number.
If they transmitted, received, or shared anything, there was a record of who did what and when.
It would be almost impossible for someone in R&D to pass on proprietary information undetected. The department’s security was tighter than anybody’s.
Not for the first time, he wondered as to the nature of the circumstantial evidence. What did RCI have?
He passed by Elara’s work station but found her engaged with three designers reporting to her.
Could it be her? Elara knew what projects had been prototyped and which ones had completed the testing phase and were moving to production.
She would have access to the work sequences from conception to rollout.
Timing of the theft was critical. A project had to be far enough along for the Prellims to be confident it would work while allowing enough time to produce it.
OberTech paid well and gave credit where credit was due, putting the designer’s name on their creation and granting the employee a small commission on the sales.
Stealing the design and producing a knockoff didn’t just divert profits from OberTech, it stole recognition and money from the employee who’d created it.
One of the purloined products had been designed by Elara. Unless the Prellims had paid her a governor’s ransom, she had no motive to steal from herself. No, I can’t believe it’s her.
Kyra, maybe? Like Elara, her designs earned her a nice commission. However, if not for him, the lab manager probably would have been vice president of R&D. Did she resent that that would never happen? She hadn’t seemed to, but maybe she did.
If she was the thief, it would crush him. He had a strong affection for the woman he’d known since childhood. Only his mother had been with the company longer.
He found Kyra in the hall speaking to a young human man. At his approach, she flashed a warm smile. “Wasn’t expecting you today. What’s up?”
“Just wondered how Project Jet Star was progressing.” He made up an excuse.
“We’re a little ahead of schedule—the new schedule. That was in my report.”
“I didn’t get a chance to review it yet,” he said, conscious of the human’s scrutiny.
He did recall now seeing a synopsis of Kyra’s report in Savannah’s daily briefing.
“I was gone from the office for a while.” He narrowed his gaze at the human, sizing him up, disliking him immediately for reasons he couldn’t define.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Stratos. ”
“The VP of the department,” Kyra added.
“Brad. Brad Benson,” the young man supplied.
“Brad is our new design assistant. He rotated into the department a few weeks ago. He’s in a job exchange program,” Kyra explained.
A designer approached her. “Excuse me… Kyra, can I speak to you for a moment?”
“Anything else?” She looked at him.
“We’re good.” He wasn’t here to disrupt anyone’s work, just to…observe. Get a feel.
His lab manager and the designer moved away to confer, leaving him with the human. Savannah would have told him to make nice with some polite platitudes, but he didn’t like the man, so he didn’t see the point. Without a word, he did an about-face and walked away.
“Pleasure to meet you!” Benson called.
No, it wasn’t, but an idea struck him. Maybe the man could be useful. He turned. “If I wished to order food from Earth, what would you recommend?”
“For Savannah?”
“You know her?”
“We’re friends.”
How friendly? Had Benson set his sights on his assistant? She was beautiful. He couldn’t imagine any man with a pulse not desiring her. His dislike of Benson intensified.
Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because Benson took a step back. “Friends. I’m married, and Savannah is only interested in you. She talks about you all the time.”
She talked about him?
“Savannah likes pizza—sausage and pepperoni. You can buy them frozen. And wine. White. Dry. A nice chardonnay would be great, but wine in a box would be easier to ship, and she’d settle for anything at this point.”
“Thank you,” he felt compelled to say.
“No problem.” Benson looked amused.