Chapter 1 #3
The room flattens into silence, but I let it rest, using it to my advantage.
She attempts to do the same, clearly versed in extracting information from people, but I’m five steps ahead of this woman.
People feel the need to fill a silence, to start blabbing information unnecessarily.
I would never fall for such a ploy, so I offer her a benign, polite smile instead.
A pucker appears between her brows, only for a fraction of a second, but I catch it before it collapses.
Irritation. And the hand that jumps to smooth the lapel of her suit down slowly as she takes a beat is more than just a bad habit.
She’s giving herself time to ensure her frustration isn’t betrayed in her tone when she next speaks.
“I have a solid source that tells me you are being targeted by the activist hacking group Incognito, Mr. Walker.” She straightens her shoulders, an icy frost encapsulating her figure.
I lock in my outward composure and broaden my smile, even though annoyance flares hot and bright in my chest under the facade.
I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a key concern of my own.
I have no evidence of the fact, other than the knowledge that the anonymous group of vigilante hackers seems to target high-wealth individuals in this city, exposing their unpleasant underbellies they would rather remain closeted.
But this doesn’t quite fit their motive…
after all, I had nothing to do with the technology being rerouted to less than desirable people.
The room falls into silence again. She hasn’t actually asked a question, so I wait for the viper to strike.
The pucker is back and this time, to stay.
“How do you expect our government to rely on you for defense technology when you can’t even defend yourselves against some teenage hackers in their mom’s basement?”
Arrow, meet bullseye, even if we discount the fact teenagers are unlikely.
I tip my head to the side, still smiling and quietly cataloguing this throw-away comment.
“Unless you’ve decided to work for a low-rent gossip column since we scheduled this interview, I’m quite sure your employer requires at least a small basis in fact for any articles they publish. ”
Her mouth parts in indignation, demanding hotly, “Are you denying it?”
And right there, that emotional outburst, that is how I know I have won. Weirdly, I almost feel disappointed. I can’t remember the last time I really had to fight. Losing interest rapidly, I suck in a slow breath and glance at the light blinking on my desk phone.
“I will not deign to address the pure fiction of your imagination, Ms. Devonshire. Now, if you please, I have my next meeting.” I ignore her indignant huff and pick up my desk phone from the cradle, pressing a finger down on the flashing button. “Walker here.”
I turn my chair lazily on its axis and gaze out over the sharp tips of Manhattan skyscrapers piercing the mid-morning haze, ignoring my guest.
“You owe me a pay raise.” Evelyn clicks her tongue and I restrain a smile. Right on cue. I’ve stopped questioning how she knows exactly what I need, and when I need it. She just does. Every time. Without fail.
“I would be happy to negotiate a deal between our two entities.” I hear the subtle shift of a chair as Ms. Devonshire stands to leave, seemingly accepting her dismissal.
“My entity would like to tell your entity to shove the negotiation up its ass.” I can hear the smile in Evelyn’s voice and can’t help my own.
“Three percent?” I ask lazily, turning a fraction so I can watch the journalist leave.
She stomps away, flinging open my office doors with a dramatic flourish.
I make a mental note to find out more about her, because she seems like the type to go rogue and not let this go, no matter how much money we donate to her employer each year.
Yes, we agreed to answer difficult questions, but that felt more like a witch hunt.
“Ten,” Evelyn replies curtly as I roll my eyes and then turn back to the city. “And I want to use your apartment in Panama this summer.”
“Four, and who are you taking there?”
“Nine, and who said I was taking anyone?” She sniffs, and I can just picture her examining her carefully manicured nails.
“Five, and the apartment is yours anytime, just don’t, whatever you do, let Miles sit on my couch naked,” I drawl and reach over to place the phone back in the receiver before she can respond.
She thinks I don’t know she’s seeing Miles Compton on the down low…please. The woman was practically salivating the moment we signed his retainer. Miles is a slick git, but he’s one of the best closers in New York City. Apparently he’s closed on my COO, too.
I hear a muffled noise through the adjoining wall between our offices to my right that sounds very much like she just shouted, “Asshole!”
Grinning, I watch the colorful flash of a billboard far below, allowing myself a moment to think. A soft chirp has me automatically reaching for my pocket and when I turn my attention to the phone in my hand, adrenaline floods and my smile dies a sudden death.
One text leaps out at me amongst the notifications.