7. Luc #2
“Just checking there aren’t any doors you might be looking to shove me out of.”
“We can do it your way, if you prefer. I’ll call for security and have you escorted from the premises.” Where she likely has a photographer stationed at the gate.
“Make your mind up. Are you buying me off or chucking me out?”
“Take the money. Let’s expedite things because we both know you don’t have anything on me.”
“I suppose that depends on your outlook.”
“Do you think you’re the first girl to try to blackmail me? You aren’t even the first this week.”
“Sounds like you need to keep better company. What’s that saying again?” she ponders, tapping her chin. “If you lie with dogs, expect to wake up with fleas.”
I almost laugh. “On that we agree.”
“And I’m beginning to think your HR team must really hate you.”
“Here’s what I know: you aren’t employed by me.”
“I think a lawyer would have something to say about my signed employment contract.”
“Then you’ll also have signed a watertight NDA.” No matter how useless I think Jacques is right now, I’m confident he would’ve had a pen under her nose the minute she stepped over the threshold.
One slim shoulder lifts and falls. “I wasn’t working for you last night.”
“You have nothing on me. There were no phones and no cameras, and we both know you weren’t wearing a wire.” I allow my gaze to slide suggestively over her. Sadly, not just for effect.
“You really think last night was a setup?” She looks almost entertained by the idea.
“What I’d like to know,” I begin, casually flicking open the folder’s cover, “is how Emmy knew where I’d be.
” No one knew I was there that’s night. Not Jacques.
Not even my security detail. A name jumps out at me from the documents: Dr Primrose Whittington.
Whittington. There’s something familiar about that name. But I don’t dwell.
“You’re really barking up the wrong tree,” she scoffs. “Emmy doesn’t even know I was there. And if you hadn’t kept her here last night, I wouldn’t have been.”
“Forgive me for not believing a word that comes out of your mouth.”
Her gaze narrows. “This has nothing to do with Emmy. In case you’ve had your head up your arse for the last few hours, she’s been far too preoccupied with life-and-death matters to indulge in your so-called blackmail plan.”
“Or maybe that’s just how you both want it to look.”
“Or maybe you’ve had your head up someone else’s arse.
” The look she sends me is meant to look provocative.
And it does. Just not in the way she thinks.
“Listen, the fact that I am here is testament to Em’s dedication to this job and to your children.
That’s it. There is no collusion and no blackmail.
I’m just a girl doing her best friend a favor because apparently, her employer and his army of staff can’t cope without her. ”
A quirk of my brow is my only answer.
“Look, she knows nothing about last night. No one does. Your little indiscretion is safe.”
I smile despite myself—despite the situation. I can’t remember the last time someone stood up to me. I also don’t remember enjoying it quite so much as I find myself standing once more. “I’d hardly call it my indiscretion. You made the first move.”
“And you were the one who shoved me out the door.”
“It was an act of mercy.”
“It was cruel.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” My gaze slides over her sun-reddened shoulders and the dappling of freckles running down her arm.
Slim wrists and long legs. Pink painted toenails.
Young. Much too young, fuck it. “But had I known I’d be finding myself in this predicament less than twenty-four hours later, I would’ve pushed you out of the door much earlier. ”
Liar, my mind whispers.
“You shouldn’t have been in the basement,” I say, stepping closer again. This can’t be a coincidence, yet I’m still to be repulsed by her.
“Maybe you shouldn’t have followed me.” She slides her back along the wall, turning without taking her eyes from me.
“Presumptuous.”
Her gaze flashes angrily.
“Maybe I was there to watch,” I add, following her. But the only person I’ll be watching is you.
Neither of us speaks for a moment, though we both watch the other like a hawk.
“You made me watch,” she says. Whispers, almost.
“I suppose I made you kiss me too.”
“Stop.” Her protest is weak; the finger she points my way shaking. It would be a very bad idea to bring it to my mouth. To place my teeth over it. To suck the salt from her skin. “Which part of that sounds like an extortion attempt?”
Her shoulders hit a row of shelves. I don’t imagine lifting her up and fucking her against the priceless texts.
“I want you out of my house.” She wouldn’t be the first woman to try and insert herself into my life for personal gain.
“No.” Her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I made a promise to my friend, so you’d better just deal with it.” And she actually pokes me in my chest.
In a moment of madness, I lean into it, the scent of chlorine and her floral shampoo registering in some primitive part of my brain. “Your friend who no longer works for me?”
A frown ripples across her brow. “Just try it and you’ll see.”
I press my hand to the shelf nearest her head. “Fuck around and find out?” The way my breath disturbs her hair is fascinating.
“Exactly,” she whispers softly, her hand tightening on her towel as her chest heaves.
“You should leave before I have you arrested for trespassing. Emmy will never get another job after I’m done. I’ll ruin her career.” I pull back so she can’t mistake my meaning. “Then I’ll ruin yours.”
“There is no conspiracy and no impending blackmail. If you knew Em at all, you’d know she’s too pure for that.”
“I suppose you’re going to try to tell me you’re pure, too.”
“No, I’m a shrew.” Her gaze studiously avoids mine as she suddenly sweeps her hand across my chest as though wiping away dust. It’s hardly the manner of a seductress, more like she’s getting rid of crumbs.
Had I still been seated, I think she might’ve patted me on the head.
“And I’m vindictive with it,” she adds, suddenly sliding under my arm.
“A warning?” I turn and watch as she crosses to the fireplace. “Please don’t tell me you’ll play the woman scorned.” I sound terribly bored.
“As if I’d ever want anyone to know what happened last night.”
“Excuse me if I don’t believe you.”
“Get over yourself. You weren’t even that good.”
My incredulous laughter bounds from my office walls.
“I can’t even believe I was there myself,” she murmurs as she saunters over to the fireplace, stopping at the Picasso.
“It was stupid really.” She tilts her head as though to study the brushstrokes.
Maybe she’s considering stealing it. She can.
It’s a fake. The real one is in a Geneva freeport as a little legal tax evasion.
“I haven’t had sex in well over a year,” she muses, almost to herself.
I go still. “The last place you’d catch me hanging out is with a load of sexperts. ”
Sex… experts?
Fuck that. “I’m not biting.”
“I don’t care.” She casually strolls to the bookcase at the far end of the room like she has no more fucks to give. Barefoot and almost silent, she trails a delicate finger over the rows of antiquated books.
“You should care. The fate of your friend is—”
“It’s just two days.” She tips back a small volume, then flicks through the pages. “I’m sure we’ll both get over it,” she says, slamming thousands of dollars of book shut.
“I’m not sure I will.” Am I not sure I’ll get over it, or not sure I’ll go through with it? Damned if I know.
“You’ll manage,” she says, at the door now. She loops her fingers around the handle and slides a doe-eyed glance my way. “Because, the thing is, I might not have been wearing a wire or whatever, but I’m not just some girl you can push around. I have choices, resources, connections, and stuff.”
“How, exactly, does that not sound like blackmail?”
“It does a bit, doesn’t it?” This she says with a small smile as she twists the handle.
“But at least it isn’t going to cost you anything but a little discomfort.
” The door swings open and she takes a step before glancing back.
“But try to make me leave, or fire Em, and I promise you, seeing your face in a gossip magazine will be the least of your problems.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And you owe me a pair of knickers.”
And with that, she slams my office door shut.