Page 194 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

He didn’t reply.

He didn’t need to. The hard curve to his mouth and the two security guards hovering discreetly against the walls did it for him. Instead, he jerked his thumb in the direction of his office. That was the last place on earth she wanted to be but what choice did she have? And after a moment she turned and began to walk back the way she had come, only this time with Tiger following a pace behind, his golden gaze boring into her back, muscular body moving with the smooth, silent, slow-motion grace of his namesake.

CHAPTER TWO

ASTHEYREACHEDhis office, Tiger sidestepped past her, dragging a chair in his wake and dumping it in front of his desk.

‘Sit,’ he said coolly, and that coolness surprised him because inside his fury was churning like white-hot magma. It was astonishing to him that this was even happening. His firewalls were the stuff of legend, as complex and intractable to unravel as a Gordian knot, but Sydney had somehow hacked his server. But even more astonishing than that was the fact that she was currently masquerading as an employee.

How had this happened? To him? He was not easily duped, particularly by women, but earlier when she’d come into his office, he’d actually thought that his head of IT had made a mistake. Nobody that young could be so nerveless. In part that was why he’d wanted her to bring him his lunch—so that he could meet her in person before he confronted her. Only then he’d got distracted by that soft mouth of hers and the pale curve of her jaw. The same jaw that was currently tilting up defiantly in his general direction.

‘You know, actually, I don’t think I will. You see, I don’t work for you any more. My contracted hours ended three minutes ago so—’

He watched as she took a step back, but as she turned towards the exit one of the huge security guards moved in front of the doorway to block her escape.

Tiger held up his hand. ‘Thanks, Carlos. I can take it from here. I’ll let you know when I need you.’

There was a soft but final-sounding click as Carlos closed the door.

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said, letting the warning in his words extend to his glittering gold gaze. ‘Like I said, you and I need to have a talk.’

‘I don’t know what this is about but—’ she began, but he cut her off.

‘You know exactly what this is about. But I’m happy to spell it out. You hacked my system and you stole from me. So why don’t you stop with the whole wide-eyed, first-time-in-New-York act and take a seat? And then I suggest you start talking.’

She sat down with such bad grace that it made him want to frogmarch her down to the police station himself. And yet a part of him was captivated by her and the strange, seductive tension between them and this verbal sparring that felt almost like foreplay.

What the—?

He swore silently, caught off guard by the inappropriateness of that thought and, blanking his mind to the pulse of heat beating a slow drum roll down his linea alba, he leaned back against the desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

‘You’ve made a mistake.’

His gaze didn’t flicker. ‘I don’t make mistakes.’ He wasn’t boasting. He was careful, tediously so, and he was happy to exploit any loophole that served his purpose, but the last time he’d been wrongfully accused of something, he’d ended up getting kicked out of university, so he didn’t make mistakes.

The memory of Harris’s cold-eyed contempt made him feel suddenly adrift, and, hating it still had the power over him, he focused his frustration on the woman sitting in front of him.

‘You, on the other hand, have racked up quite a few in the last few days. Although I prefer to give them their correct title, which is criminal offences. There’s gaining unauthorised access to a computer system. Stealing data, presumably with the intention of selling it on to a third party. Industrial espionage. But I’m no lawyer so I’m sure that’s just the tip of the iceberg.’

That was better, he thought, feeling a sharp stab of satisfaction as her face stilled. ‘What?’ His eyes held hers as he deliberately let his mouth pull into a shape that could only be described as mocking.

‘Did you think you’re the first? ’Fraid not. You’re certainly not the best,’ he said softly, but with a hint of malice because he wanted to punish her, to wound her pride. Watching her pupils flare, he knew that he’d hit his target.

‘It’s not quite an everyday occurrence but I get a lot of people trying to mess me over.’

Sydney glared at him. ‘If this is how you behave, I can well believe it.’

He stared down at her, his gaze bright and steady, his mouth a contemptuous curl, but he could feel the spark of her defiance igniting a flame he didn’t normally feel and shouldn’t be feeling because this woman, this red-haired vixen who had done more than any man would dare to do, she should be apologising at least or, better still, be on her knees begging for mercy.

A burst of heat, astonishing in its intensity, surged through his veins as his brain offered up all manner of possible reasons for her to be kneeling in front of him that he didn’t want to acknowledge with Sydney here in the room.

‘The difference with you is that I don’t normally have the pleasure of meeting them face to face.’

She held his gaze. ‘For the last time, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Look, I’m a hard worker but I do have to get up from my computer sometimes, and there’re people coming and going all day. Any one of them could have done whatever it is you think I did.’

He heard her breath go shallow as his gaze narrowed on her. ‘I don’t think you did it, I know you did. I have proof. So do you, actually. It’s in your bag.’ Now, he held out his hand. ‘Give it to me.’

‘What? No.’ Her fingers tightened around the handle of her bag. Her pulse was beating a wild staccato in her throat and just for a second there she had looked scared, and far too young to be sparring with a man like him.

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