Page 17 of Crave Me

This isn’t an office, this is a monstrosity of a room.

At the end there’s a desk, his desk, I assume. But I’ve never seen a desk this large or one surrounded by multiple computer screens appearing to branch out from inside the colossal stretch of wood.

I think he’s going to sit there, and motion me to sit at one of the four seats positioned in front of it, but he moves toward the leather couch.

I should sit in one of the chairs, but lower myself beside him before I can give it enough thought. I cross my legs and glance toward the opposite end of the room where his desk and chairs wait abandoned.

“Are we going to watch a movie or something?”

He laughs. It’s short, but keeps his smile in place. “I wish that was a luxury I could entertain.”

“No time for movies?’ He shakes his head. I point to the flat-screens. “Damn waste of time with these beauties.”

“They have their purpose,” he says. “Alfred, view progress.”

“Viewing progress,” the computer system repeats.

Each screen lights up with a different image. There are twenty-four, six across, four up. Some show high-tech labs, different points in the underground garage, and a couple of conference rooms where training and meetings are taking place. Still more show different levels of the building where rows and rows of cubicles are assembled like mini cities.

“Are these people aware Big Brother is watching?”

“In theory,” he says. “They sign an agreement recognizing this is a necessity to protect the advanced technologies we develop. But as the cameras aren’t in plain sight, it seems they tend to forget.”

Each picture is clear and detailed. I can’t even imagine the level of technology these cameras possess. “Alfred’s pretty damn handy.”

“He is, but he has his limits.” He motions to the bottom screen where a tall woman with all legs and very little skirt is bent over a cubicle, laughing and flirting with a man in a suit. Behind them, an older woman is going Mach 1 on a keyboard, speaking fast to what appears to be a courier. She stops typing long enough to hand him a pile of packages. “If he was everything I needed him to be, he’d let go of the employees I don’t need and elevate those who work hard.”

The screens switch over like dominos, showing completely different parts of the campus. I’ve driven past this building several times, but I never understood how massive it is until now.

“How often does Alfred give you the low-down?” I ask.

“Only when I want to see it. This is the one task I can leave to my security team, thankfully. Their cameras have access to all rooms, except this one.” He shifts back to the screens. “If I have a call requiring the presence of multiple team members or a particular device we’re working on with our London branch, the screens are very helpful.” He smiles. “Alfred, show room.”

“Showing room,” Alfred repeats.

I almost jolt when the screens morph into one giant image of me and Evan on the couch. Evan turns to me in high-def. “If you ask me, this is the view I prefer.”

“I don’t,” I admit. “It looks like I could eat me.”

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he says chuckling. “Alfred, sleep room.”

“Sleeping,” Alfred announces.

The screens shut off at once. I tug down the skirt of my deep red suit so it rests closer to my knees, trying to find my words. “Evan, what exactly do you do?”

“I’m CEO of iCronos,” he responds like it’s not a big deal. Like he didn’t just show me enough tech to make the Death Star resemble a ping-pong ball sprinkled with glitter.

I blink back at him. “I should’ve sold you the Expedition.”

This time when he laughs, his chest shakes. “And I suppose I should have mentioned it during our time together.” His deep voice softens. “But you didn’t ask, and we had other business to discuss.”

“Like Ashleigh?” I offer. Hey, now that I’m here, I might as well let the bitchy cat out of the bag. Christ, I’m surprised said bitchy cat didn’t try to claw my eyes out.

His humor dissolves, replaced by a sweetness I’ve never quite seen in a man, and a whole lot of sizzle. “Ashleigh is the last person on my mind when I’m with you,” he murmurs.

Hmm. He had to go there. In that voice, too. But I can’t, even though I really want to. I glimpse in the direction of the closed door. “Maybe. Except looks like I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Right about what?”

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