Page 107 of Lethal Torture
“They’re my images.” I grin at her. “I haven’t shared them with Niamh or her team, by the way. As for working it out, that’s what I do. I knew about Lowbridge’s contract and Kozlov before we went to Spain, but I had to wait for Enzo’s date with Lowbridge’s private secretary to confirm that it’s him behind the stories. Actually, it might be easier if he tells you this part himself.” I lean over her and press the intercom. “Enzo. Can you get Mollie to cover the desk and come up here a moment?”
I don’t miss her sharp intake of breath, nor the way she stills as I pass within inches of her.
I also don’t miss the heady rush of her perfume, like an aphrodisiac straight to my fucking brain.
Smart move, Luke.
I straighten up and walk to the coffee machine without looking at her, the noise of grinding beans giving us both the space to recover ourselves before Enzo turns up. If I’m going to be completely honest, I’m more shaken than I want to admit.
I’ve had sex before. I’ve had epic sex before.
I’ve still never had anything that matches that plane ride, or the night that came after it.
Fuck.
I’m half hard even thinking about it.
I inhale the sharp scent of coffee, willing my body under control. It’s a solid fucking battle. The reality is that I’m grateful for work, just to take my mind off what I plan to do as soon as I have Zinaida alone again. Because I plan to get her alone again. In about ten hours’ time, if not before.
The machine grinds to a halt. By the time I’ve made our coffees, I’ve gotten myself under control.
Right up until I turn around and find Zinaida watching me. It’s only for a split second, before the elevator dings and she drops her eyes, but it’s long enough for me to see the storm churning in their depths and feel that strange connection again that hits somewhere deep in the pit of my gut and makes me want to take her like a fucking savage.
Instead I put her coffee down in front of her and take a seat on the windowsill, eyeing her mounting color with a dark kind of masochistic pleasure as Enzo steps into the room.
“Darling.” Enzo beams at me. “If you’re going to pull me away from my desk during peak hour, I expect favors. Or at least some delicious gossip.”
“I figured.” I grin at him. “I’ll come up with something, I promise.”
He wags his finger at me. “I’m holding you to that.”
I nod at Zinaida. “Tell Zin what you told me about your little friend Andrew.”
“Oh, not so little, darling.” Enzo taps me playfully on the arm, and I roll my eyes, though I’m still smiling. He’s incorrigible.
“So.” Enzo turns back to Zin, abruptly entirely business focused. “Andrew’s boss has been giving him stories about youto feed to the pond scum at theDaily Truth.” He says the tabloid name with distinct distaste. “But since he’s also neglected to give Andrew any evidence to back up the allegations, the DT has begun to get a little pushy.”
“Does Simon actuallyhaveany evidence?” she asks.
“No. Or not that Andrew knows about. He thinks that accusing you of trafficking girls, or killing Georgiy Ivanov, is just Simon’s attempt to coerce you into giving him membership at the Quartier. In fact,” he says, smiling evilly, “I may have let him believe membership was on the table when I first invited him out.”
“Smart,” I say, glancing at Zin, who is nodding. “Keep letting him think that.”
“He’s actually quite sweet,” Enzo says, tilting his head to one side. “And a much better lay than you’d think. It’s always the quiet ones.”
“Christ.” I shake my head. “This is where you leave me.”
“Oh, darling.” Enzo gives me a very lewd wink. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He blows us a kiss as he closes the door, leaving Zin and me both laughing.
“So.” She taps her fingers on the table, frowning at the closed door. “You think we play Lowbridge for now, until we know more about what is going on with Kozlov?”
I nod. “We know there’s a connection between Lowbridge Inc.’s security failures and the trafficked women. And we know that Lowbridge is trying to cover that up by pointing the finger at you. What we still don’t know is who he has inside your operation.”
Zin grimaces. “Unfortunately, we can make some assumptions about where that person is coming from, though.” When she looks at me, I see the same resignation in her eyes that I feel myself. “Sophie’s House,” she says quietly. “It has to be coming from there. Nobody else in my organization has accessto their computer system, or anything about the operations we run.”
She masks it well, but I can see the hurt lurking behind her eyes, and it fucking kills me.
“I’m sorry, Zin.”
