Page 44 of Malevolent Secrets

We reach the operations room, a high-tech space filled with monitors and computers.

“This is where we coordinate all our activities,” I explain. “You’ll start here, assisting with data analysis and communications. It’s critical work and I need someone I can trust.”

“I…hold on, you want me to work here?”

Her eyes go wide and goodness, it takes everything in me not to smile.

“You have a foundation in data compilation and analysis. It’s how you’ve been able to work so well in PR, am I wrong?”

“Well, yes. But I was hoping to work in the club.”

Her poker face is beautifully flawed and if I didn’t already know that she was up to something, this moment would’ve given her away.

“Really.”

“Yes. All my life, I’ve been in the professional space. You can understand why I would want to switch things up a little.”

The large room we are in is empty except for the hum of computers and her reflection in the mirrored glass walls. I take a step toward her.

“You’ve been to my club. You’ve seen the women there,” I look her up and down in her buttoned-up shirt and skirt and heels.

“You really believe you’d fit in there?”

“I can fit in anywhere. It’s a talent of mine.”

I take another step toward her, and she takes one back. I take another and again, she retreats.

“You’re trying so hard to step into my world. Do you know what my world does to pretty girls like you?”

I raise my hand and trail my fingers down her cheek and neck. I enjoy the sight of goosebumps erupting on her flesh.

“It chews you up and spits you out. You can’t even be in close quarters with me without shaking. Everything you’re feeling is on your face: Your fear, your excitement, your arousal.”

My hands SLIP farther down her neck until I’m at the opening of her shirt, where there’s the tiniest bit of cleavage visible. I wonder if she’s even breathing because she is standing so still, watching my hand.

I continue trailing the finger down, over her breast and I feel her nipple harden under my wandering finger.

Fuck. This is a dangerous game I’m playing.

I’m towering over her, pressed into her as she is pressed against a table.

“Careful what you ask for.”

I drop my hand and turn around.

I’m walking to the door when her reflection stops me. She is taking off her jacket and tossing it to the ground. Without the jacket, I can see that the blouse is just a sleeveless number.

“I know what I want.”

Her voice is soft, and I turn around to face her, and she’s unbuttoning her shirt.

“And what’s that?”

“Right now—you.”

I rub my hand over my jaw as I watch her undo the rest of the buttons, and then she’s standing in front of me, stripped down to her slinky black thong and her bra. I was right. It is the charming little lacy bra from the other night.

“Are you just going to stand there looking?”

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