Page 70 of Tempt Me

So glad to see Miss Jallow enjoying herself. Meanwhile, at @moo-lah_corp, we’re working hard on a groundbreaking app. #workingforyou #betterfasterstronger

My phone buzzed with a notification. Another link from Hannah. I clicked it.

The video played silently with captions. It was Jamila, earlier today if I judged the light right, her gorgeous lips turned down in a sneer. The caption read,Flick off. My weekends are my Gotham business.

“Wait, what?”

“The captions are G-rated. Jamila cursed out another journalist who asked about the pictures.”

I dropped my head back and stared at the acoustic-tile ceiling of our office. “Why?” I groaned.

“They didn’t show the question. It must’ve pissed her off.”

I watched the video again. This time, my heart prickled.My weekends are my goddamn business.Like I was her weekend entertainment, not worth mentioning by name. Certainly not with the wordgirlfriend.

But she’d said we were casual. She’d reminded me we needed to stay hidden. Right as the photo had been snapped. She wasn’t protecting me. She was protecting herselffromme.

“I guess we need to go talk to her.” I swiped the video away and checked the time. “We can get in right before the developers’ stand-up.”

“I’m going to sit this one out,” Hannah said. “She’ll be in a mood.”

“Coward,” I said mildly.

“Plus she’s in with Winslow now.”

“Why? She meets with him on Wednesdays.”

“They’re planning for a dinner tomorrow night with that guy from the financial partner. And then Winslow’s off the rest of the week.”

“They’re meeting with Kenneth Royal from First Arbiter?” Jamila hadn’t said a word yesterday.

“Yes, at La Colombe Bleue.”

“You said Winslow’s taking off? The app releases in two weeks. Aren’t we all hands on deck until then?”

“It’s Memorial Day weekend.” Hannah shrugged. “Guess he has plans.”

“It still seems like a crap time to go on vacation. I bet Moo-Lah’s not…” I glanced down at my screen, where I’d pulled up Pavel Thakor’s profile. His most recent post was a photo of him seated outdoors talking to a group of men. The photo was so closely cropped that I couldn’t discern anything in the background. They could have been at a country club or a restaurant patio or even outside his building. He looked relaxed, throwing his head back in a laugh. I squinted at the picture, then zoomed in. Behind Thakor was the lower part of a pair of slim-fit raspberry slacks. I zoomed in further, but the image pixelated. Were those two-tone navy-and-brown brogues?

I had a sneaking suspicion I knew who they belonged to.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked. “I’ve never seen you that still.”

“I’m fine.” I snapped a screenshot. “I’ll be right back.”

Gripping my phone, I strode down the hall to Jamila’s office. I paused at Felicia’s desk.

“Is Winslow in there with her?” I asked.

“Yes. He’ll be out in a minute, though.” She nodded at Rhiannon, who marched toward Jamila’s office trailed by her team. In her blue shirt, she looked like an angry bluebird leading her flock.

“Why do I feel like I’m the only one doing my damn job?” She looked me up and down. Her gaze lingered on my hand. “And not making things worse?”

Fire rose from my cheeks to my forehead. “I’m handling it.”

“Yeah, you are.” She lifted her nose in a cutting gesture worthy of my mother.

Heat blazed down to my chest, but I was saved from an ill-thought-out response when Jamila’s door opened, and Winslow stepped out in his two-tone brogues. Today, his pants were powder blue with tiny American flags embroidered on them. I glanced at the photo on my screen again. I wished I could tell if the shoes in the photo were navy and brown or black and brown or brown with a weird shadow.

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