Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84627 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 423(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“You couldn’t wait?” I ask as I take the chair across from her, needing to rile her up, because that little fire she has when she’s agitated gets me going more than any other emotion she has.
“I was hungry,” she says after swallowing a bite of steak.
She sips on a glass of water, a challenge in her eyes. I demanded this dinner, wanting to spend more time with her when I should’ve just let her off the hook. It was her ability to think on her feet, to attempt to get some form of agreement out of Janine Miller when the meeting was doomed from the second we walked into the office that made my dick hard. I liked how she commanded the room, taking charge even though she was possibly offering something she couldn’t back up. She did so as if she had all the power of Blackbridge behind her.
“Sir?”
I look up, blinking and wondering how long the waiter has been standing there.
“May I get you something to drink?”
“Whiskey. Neat. Grilled Salmon. Steamed vegetables.”
“Very good, sir,” he says before walking away.
I should’ve ordered a double even though it looks like she’s choosing not to drink at all tonight. Does she not trust herself to consume alcohol around me?
“This is a working dinner. Do you not plan to work?” I ask purposely as she takes another bite of food.
She chews slowly, making me wait, in no rush to answer me, and I find that I like that too.
Damn this woman.
“Yes, I do.”
I pull my laptop, clattering her empty dishes into a pile on one side of the table so I have space to open the thing as she watches just as the waiter brings my drink. We switch out, me handing him the dirty dishes, him handing me the whiskey, his eyes going to Leighton before he carries them away, confirming that she wanted them left on the table.
She shakes her head, her eyes darting away from my ringless hand. Maybe if I were really married, I would actually have missed the fact that I didn’t put it back on after my shower, but I’ve worn the damn thing more in the last couple of days than I ever have my entire life, and I seriously hate the foreign feel of it on my hand.
“We’ll drive up to Santa Rosa tomorrow morning and then to San Jose on Friday.”
“I’m well aware of the schedule, Mr. Ward.”
“Vic—”
“Victoria Nadir, twenty-eight, lives in Santa Rosa with her parents because she’s still on Federal parole after serving eighteen months in prison for hacking into several federally protected databases where she funneled funds from the government and funded a local library. While the thought was nice, it was still illegal. She’s a criminal, and although I’ll recruit her the way BBS wants me to, I honestly don’t understand why the company would want someone like her working for them.”
“All IT specialists are criminals.”
Her morality and opinions on Victoria Nadir just confirmed that she has no idea what her poor father has been up to.
“They are not. Are you saying the man you guys currently have working for you is a criminal?”
I hold my hands up. “I don’t ask Wren questions I’m legally bound to report.”
“Plausible deniability?” She snorts. “Attorneys are snakes.”
I give her a wink. A small smile plays on her pretty face.
“I’m sure there are things you do that are against the rules, but you do them anyway. Or things you know about but don’t report.”
“Nothing,” she says easily.
“You don’t have a dog, take him for a walk without picking up after him?”
“I don’t have a dog. They aren’t allowed in our building.”
“No one in your building has a dog?”
Her mouth snaps shut, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
She leans in close. “Mr. Sniffles is an emotional support animal, and it’s not the same as stealing money from the government. Clarice is eighty years old and gets lonely. She always picks up after him.”
“Victoria diverted five hundred dollars from ten different agencies that spend a hundred times that on overpriced copy paper and Post-it notes to help fund a literacy program for underprivileged kids.”
“So long as it’s some Robin Hood shit, it’s okay?”
“I’m not saying that,” I argue.
“Then what exactly are you saying?” she snaps, leaning in closer.
“Not everything is black and white.”
“Sir, your meal.”
The waiter waits for me to lean back, making me realize just how close we’d gotten over the table before he places the plate in front of me. The grilled fish and vegetables don’t look nearly as appetizing as the steak she’s eating, but I can enjoy watching her eat it, licking my lips as she takes another bite.
“I’ll be honest. I don’t think BBS needs another IT person anyway. Wren can handle anything we can throw at him.”
She laughs like my statement is ridiculous.