Page 22 of Sinful Beauty

“HR should have taken you through that.” She approaches my desk, takes my mouse, swivels it to awaken the monitor, and directs me to a violet square with the Lumina logo. “You might not be set up yet. Are you going to have an assistant?”

“Are you offering?”

Her perfume is light and sweet. The scent is so mild that it might be a fragrant lotion. If I removed her clothes, it wouldn’t take me long at all to discover the answer.

Click.

“This is Lumina’s system.” She leans across the desk, careful to avoid touching me. “Everything you should need is in this hub. Expense reports. Travel requests. Calendars, although not everyone’s calendar is available. When you schedule an appointment, you can select if you want it to be available for viewing or if you want it private.” She backs away from the desk, taking her sweet scent with her. She crosses her arms below her breasts and I completely fail at keeping my eyes trained on her face. No need to sweat it, since I’m playing the role of cad.

“That’s a nice feature. Does it exist for travel plans and the like?”

Her lower lip protrudes slightly, the only sign she’s giving this some thought. Which means Pelz doesn’t worry about others seeing his travel schedule.

“I don’t believe so.” Her gaze flits to the ceiling. “I would imagine the only people with access to travel and expense reports would be Human Resources and accounting.”

“On expense reports, do you know if the phone detail is included?”

She slowly shakes her head. “I don’t have to expense Mr. Pelz’s cell phone bill. I imagine it’s part of a corporate bill.” She backs up further. “I’ve never seen his bill.” Her eyes narrow and a remnant of pub girl surfaces. “If you’re asking if anyone will notice if you visit lewd sites, the answer is yes. Our IT department blocks access to adult sites. If you happen upon a site that’s not blocked, they’ll catch on. I don’t know how but…”

Her gaze flickers to the hallway.

“They caught someone?”

“That’s what I’ve heard. Better to do all that at home.”

She steps towards the doorway.

“All that?”

Her cheeks flush ever so slightly and her eyes widen. “The naughty bits.”

An unruly wisp falls loose and she whisks it behind her ear. I’d like to step up to her, breathe her in, run my nose and lips along that graceful neck, nipping her until she shivers.

Her glance over her shoulder before returning to her keyboard confirms she feels the weight of my gaze.

I have no business playing with her. But then again, she’s been here eight years. I’d wager she’s observant. She’s in the case file. And it’s quite possible for the right price she could be convinced to do things like lie to an employees sister when she calls.

Chasing her fits my role. And hell, it might even mean I’m following in my father’s footsteps. I always thought it was romantic that he met my mother at work, but how many others did he meet and sleep with? Sexual harassment wasn’t a thing for most of his career.

Is that why he no longer works here? Did he have too many affairs? Did HR consider him a risk? I’d wonder if that’s why my mum jumped to the conclusion I’d hit on an assistant, but she’s heard too many stories from my boarding school and university days. And it’s a persona I’ve purposefully amplified since joining Interpol.

Lucia stretches her neck to the left, and her slender fingers knead the muscle. She’s going to be a distraction. Perhaps instead of fighting it, the best plan is to leverage her. After all, any good hunt thrills.

Chapter8

Lucia

“Lucia!”

It’s the tenth time he’s yelled, expecting to jump at his call and enter his office. His method of reaching me serves as a mood indicator. If he sends a message on the computer, or calls my desk, all is well in his world. When he yells, his mood is blood red. I don’t know the why, but I know the mood.

I inhale deeply in preparation, pick up my pad and pencil, and dutifully stride to his office, careful to use my pleasant subordinate voice. “Yes, sir?”

“Why isn’t my lunch with Landry on the calendar?”

Perhaps because my ESP isn’t functioning? It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I bite back the reply and sweetly answer, “We scheduled your meeting with Blanchard’s team three weeks prior. It’s a lunch meeting. They have a presentation prepared.”

“I told you about Landry. You should have moved the Blanchard meeting. When you call to reschedule, be certain to apologize for your error.”

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