“What is this?”
“A phone.” I shrug. “We use them to get in touch with people we want to talk to. It’s a bit faster than sending a fax. You can even take pictures with them.”
Ah, there it is. Didn’t take very long to coax the hatred back into her gaze.
I suppress a smirk.
“I have a phone.”
“Do you?” I laugh. “I figured it was broken after last night.”
There’s no surprise on her face, and the confusion disappears, too.
“So, youarestalking me.”
“Excuse me?”
“That was you outside my bathroom window two nights ago.” She shakes her head, and her face contorts like she’s trying to look disgusted, but it doesn’t quite get there. Part of me wonders why she’s trying so hard to deny how much she wants the attention. She seems to be a woman used to getting plenty of it. “Admit it.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Palmer.”
I think I can hear her teeth grind together as she snaps her jaw closed and stares angrily at me.
“You want to play innocent?” Soren laughs, bracing her hands on the desk and using it to push herself to a standing position.
It’s rather cute, how serious she looks, trying to go toe to toe with someone who she has already called a monster. I enjoy a slow glance at the cleavage being pushed together by her position, making no attempt to pretend I’m not doing exactly that.
She does a remarkable job of acting like she doesn’t care, but I see the anger in her eyes, the slight narrowing and how she pulls her lip back in a snarl.
“You’re not innocent, Evers. You’re as corrupt as they come. I’ve been looking into you for months. I know what you do. I know who you are, and I won’t let you get away with it.”
I arch an eyebrow, unable to keep from smirking despite my best effort to look serious. “Who’s stalking whom, Miss Palmer?”
“It’s Soren!” She snaps, slamming her hands against the desk like that will get my attention any more than I’ve already given it to her.
“Okay,” I nod. “Soren. You’ve been looking into me for months, huh? Did you find what you were looking for?”
Her face tells me what her article already did. She has nothing on me. Her accusation is baseless, her hatred for me is obvious, but her reason for putting herself on my radar is non-existent.
“No.” I say for her, planting my hands on her desk in a mirror of her position. I use the leverage to push myself closer to her until I can smell the strawberry scent that clings to her. I imagine that’s her shampoo; It was far stronger when she ran into me the other day, her round ass aligned perfectly with my needy cock. “Because you have no idea what you’re up against. If you think you truly know who I am, if you think you really know what I do, you’re even more vapid than your article first suggested.”
“I know who you are.” She says without batting an eyelash. “You’re a murderer.”
twenty-five
Soren
Theaccusationhasjustleft my mouth when there’s a quick rap on the door that makes me jump. When I do, it nearly sends me careening across the desk, right into him. I catch myself moments before our lips would have touched, but the near-miss is enough to rattle me. I straighten, pressing the backs of my hands into my blazing hot cheeks, hoping they’ll help chase the blush from my skin.
“Am I… interrupting something?” The woman at the door looks almost amused as her eyes flicker from me to Declan and back. She presses her lips together, but it doesn’t erase the curve of her lips.
From the outside, it probably looks like we were just flirting.
God, I hope my colleagues don’t think I’m flirting with the boss after a day of working for him.
“Not at all, Misha. Please, come in.” Declan gestures for her to join us in the office, and she obliges with a few careful strides of her patent heels. They shine in the fluorescent lights, and I recognize an alligator print.
How retro.