Page 18 of Edged

“Uhhnn,” she moaned, pressing her hands against her forehead as she turned around. “I know him.”

“So what?” Hartley demanded.

“I don’t just know him. I had sex with him. Yesterday,” she explained.

Hartley looked surprised and then annoyed.

“Again, so what? You work at a fucking sex club, Nita. It’s part of the job,” Hartley admonished.

“Notmyjob.”

“Look, Claire’s out of town, so I need you to step up. I don’t want Cavendish to look like some three-ring circus,” Hartley said, stepping closer to the door and beckoning Nita.

“Why can’t we get Claire on video to finish the meeting,” Nita suggested, moving her hands from her forehead to her cheeks. She was copping out, and she knew it. “Speaking of which, why aren’t any of the other women at the meeting?”

Hartley rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone.

“Claire’s not just out of the country, she’s got some bug that’s making her heave into the toilet every five minutes,” Hartley said, tapping her phone. “Abby’s in Kuala Lumpur at some last-minute royal benefit thing. Becca’s in L.A. with Porter on a movie set, and Georgia’s been writing up engagement scenarios for Magdalena non-stop. She says, and I quote, ‘Can you give me five goddamn minutes to work with the client who’s going to save all our asses…’” Hartley raised an eyebrow at Nita before continuing to read, “‘you type A, controlling bitch?’”

Nita slid her hands to cover a smile, then dropped them.

“She’s not wrong,” she said, not afraid of Hartley’s scowl or her classic temper. “Can’tyoushow Ryder around the property? I should be going over the guest list and getting those agreements drawn up. Especially if the testing’s been moved up.”

“No. I’m heading to the airport as soon as I can get a car,” Hartley said, a gleam appearing in her eye. “One of Magdalena’s guests wants to talk to me personally about becoming a client, but he’ll only meet me on his yacht in the Caymans.”

That perked Nita’s interest. One full-paid engagement was a start, but another who might have even more connections was gold. No, platinum. Most of their previous clients had shied away at the idea of new ownership.

“Seriously?” she asked.

“Dead serious,” Hartley confirmed. “So can you scoot your ass back to the boardroom and start showing our new head of security the estate?”

Nita groaned, but nodded.

* * *

Hartley left,heading for the elevator.

Nita waited a few more minutes, printing client and consultant agreements to stall the inevitable.

“Need to touch up your nails, or are we going to get this show on the road soon?” Ryder teased from the doorway.

She jammed the papers into her purse and marched past him without a word.

She led him down the stairs to the tunnels, her anger turning to rage when he brushed her out of the driver’s seat.

“I’ll drive,” he said.

“You don’t know where we’re going,” she argued, gripping the wheel.

“It says right there, Security Facility to the left,” he muttered, pointing to the words she knew were painted on the wall of the tunnel. Along with a matching-color line on the cement floor that could guide anyone.

“Move it,” he grunted when she continued to glare at him. She glared back, but when he refused to get in the passenger side, she slid over.

Asshole, she thought.

As he steered the cart sharply right, following the sign on the road, she wondered how she was going to work with him for the next two weeks. Not only was he an asshole, he was a sexy asshole. She knew the memory of him going down on her was going to pop up at odd moments… like right then.

“So, you're a law student, huh?” Ryder said, breaking into her memory of his head between her legs.

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