Page 16 of Wired Strong

“I was fine with your thoughts until you crossed the line into what is none of your business, once again,” Sophie kept her voice flat and cool. “That will be all, gentlemen.”

“Good,” Fernandez said. “Keep me posted of any changes or new activity.” He snapped his briefcase shut and rolled his portly form up out of the couch. He extended a hand to Raveaux. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you more directly.”

Raveaux stood, and shook the little man’s hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Sophie walked to the door and pulled it open, holding it ajar. “I’ll be in touch with either or both of you, should I need your services.” She could tell by Raveaux’s raised brow that he had not planned to leave with Fernandez, but he followed the little lawyer out with a nod.

Sophie shut the door behind them, flipped the lock, and sagged against it.

She needed a nap.

But first, she needed to get rid of the chip.

She walked over to her desk and removed a box cutter she used for opening packages. Grabbing a handful of tissues, she propped her elbow on the corner of her desk, placing the pad of tissues on the desk’s surface beneath her arm. After locating the slight node of the tracker in the tender skin under her arm, she extended the box cutter’s razor tip and sterilized it with an alcohol wipe that she had in her drawer.

She cut into the skin, set the box cutter down, and squeezed gently on either side of the tracker. The chip was actually cylindrical, half an inch long and a quarter-inch wide, filled with coiled material inside of a plastic case. It popped out easily from under her skin, along with a gush of fresh, bright blood.

Sophie hadn’t expected the wave of nausea that hit her as she pressed the tissues to the wound in her arm. She gulped, hoping to forestall the inevitable—but a moment later, she vomited into her wastebasket.

“Pregnancy isn’t for sissies. Ugh.” She dabbed her mouth with more tissues, and removed a bottle of water from the cabinet under her desk. She drank a few sips, and then tied the plastic trash bag tightly shut.

Sophie felt too weak to get up just yet. She depressed a button on her desk phone. “Paula? Can you come tidy up in here? You’ll have to bring your keys. The door is locked.”

“Right away, Sophie.”

She pressed the tissues against her arm. The bleeding had stopped. Paula came in just as Sophie got up and headed over to lie down on the couch, propping her head on one of the throw pillows. “Please put away the tea things from the meeting, and re-stock the bar,” she told Paula. “And I wasn’t feeling well. If you could pick up the trash and replace the liner . . .”

“Of course. Are you sick, Sophie? Do you want to go home?” Paula’s pretty face showed concern.

“Just a touch of morning sickness. You might as well know, along with everyone else,” Sophie said. “I am due in six months. My fiancé left me a little surprise.”

Paula cupped her face with her hands, her mouth an O, and came over to Sophie, dropping to her knees to hug her on the couch. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you. Momi will have a brother or sister! What a blessing!”

Easy tears came to Sophie’s eyes.If only everyone had given her this kind of support at her news!“Yes, children are always a blessing.”

Chapter Thirteen

Pim Wat

Pim Wat,seated at her vanity, turned her face from side to side, admiring the new facial structure the bone surgeon had created. She’d taken the opportunity to have her face not only repaired, but completely made over.

She didn’t recognize herself anymore, but in a good way this time.

Her cheekbones had been wide before, pointing to a narrow chin that set off her lush mouth and tilted eyes. Now her cheekbones were higher, her jawline squarer, and her eyelids, completely redone, were a rounder shape, giving her a look of mixed Thai and European lineage. Even her mouth looked different, but it was still sexy and full. The surgery scars at her hair and jawline were pink and raised; but a few more laser treatments over the next months would take care of that, and makeup could cover the rest.

She’d also put on the colored contacts she’d chosen to be a permanent part of her new look. These were dark green, masking her brown eyes. A hairdresser had dyed her white hair platinum blonde; it shimmered against her golden skin in a fashionable short style.

This face wouldn’t register on any facial recognition software. Pim Wat was a new woman.

She smiled into the mirror, catching the eyes of the team of three plastic surgeons, hovering in the background. “This is acceptable.”

They broke into delighted applause. “You are exquisite, Mistress,” one of them said.

“Our very best work,” another chimed in.

Pim Wat turned on her padded swivel stool to face them. “This has been stressful for all of you—everyone here wants to please the Master, including myself, and I believe he will be well pleased. My maid has prepared a congratulatory beverage for us.” Kupa, standing in the corner holding a tray, came forward. “Let us toast.”

Kupa’s tray contained four glasses of traditional Thai rice beer. The doctors clustered around, chatting, as they took the beverages. Kupa, her eyes down modestly, brought the final glass, marked with a golden ribbon, to Pim Wat.

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