by Lucy Farago
“The scumbag.”
“Yeah.” Too blinded by rage, he looked away from the screen. A man he’d trusted had been fucking his wife.
“She doesn’t sound happy with him. Looks like they broke it off a few weeks ago.”
He heard the sound of clicking keys as Lizzy brought up more e-mails. “Yup, none too happy. It appears he ended their affair. But look at this.”
He glanced down, at Lizzy pointing to the screen. “What?”
“See for yourself,” she said, turning the laptop in his direction. “She’s threatening to expose him.”
“You think she was just talking going public with their affair? She’d have known I wouldn’t be happy about it. Hell, I’d have fired his ass.” He would fire his ass.
“That’s a motive for murder, don’t you think?”
“Maybe. But he’s made a lot of money working for me. I’m sure he could find another job. To kill her just to keep his secret is a little extreme.” He forced himself to scroll through the other messages. Their latest ones had a jilted lover tone, nothing to do with his business. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief.
To think he’d been that stupid—twice—killed him. Screwing his wife was one thing, screwing his company another.
“Her last one was yesterday, just before the party. But there are no replies from him. She sent this to his company e-mail. Do you have access to his computer at work? Or is it password protected?”
“I have all the passwords. I know who logs in, when, and on which computer. If he assessed his work computer from home, I could find out. If someone else used his computer at the office, I can trace it.” His company, his rules. “I can access the server from anywhere. The only glitch is deleted e-mail. Those go into a security-protected online vault to prevent someone from leaking information. And I can only access those from the mainframe at work. Let’s go,” he said. “We’ll take my car.”
Her smile was so wide, it meant only one thing.
“Fine,” he said, as if relenting, “you can drive.”
Duncan wasn’t particular about his any of his cars, except this one. This one was special. And if he needed anything to draw him out of the dark mood clearly waiting for him, it was this. Of course, in light of what she’d just confessed, if she ever found out he’d bought the car for her, she might not be so happy to drive it.
On the highway, with the late afternoon sun reflecting off her sunglasses, there was something extremely satisfying in watching Lizzy drive the white John Cooper Works Mini Roadster. She was like a kid with her favorite toy. She’d catered a car show he put on for the children’s hospital and had gone on and on about the car. When he’d convinced the owner to lend it to her for a spin, she’d been the giddiest he’d ever seen her. He knew he had to buy one. That was six months ago, and he still hadn’t had the nerve to tell her it was hers. He was such a chicken shit. But in hindsight, knowing what he knew, perhaps that was a good thing. For now.
The drive to his office ended too soon. Too soon for Lizzy because she loved driving the car, and too soon for him because he’d now have to face Harris’s betrayal. Inside, the building was fairly quiet. His teams could choose to work on the weekends if they wanted a weekday off. Today they hadn’t. As it was only one flight, they took the grand steel and glass spiral staircase to the second floor. He’d opted for a two story instead of a high-rise when he’d chosen his offices, wanting a more laid-back approach for the many creative people who worked for him. No one had walled offices except for his executives, and those were made of glass. But Duncan knew that sometimes solitude was needed to think, so if one chose, they could use the electric floor to ceiling curtain wall for privacy. As they stepped off the last step and onto the landing, Duncan keyed his code in the security pad and a sickly sweet voice said over the speakers, “Hello, and welcome to Zanadoo.”
“What the heck is that?” Lizzy asked.
“My staff’s odd sense of humor.” Creative people needed to be creative.
“Oh, is that like the time they rigged a burp every time someone opened the front doors?”
“Yeah, that didn’t last long.”
“They need to get out more.”
“I hire nerds, Lizzy. For them, this is getting out.” It was sad, but true.
His office was different from everyone else’s in that his had a solid African ribbon mahogany judge’s desk. It didn’t hold true to the rest of the modern layout of the company spaces, but the warm wood tones had been so opposite to Victoria’s tastes that he’d had to have it. The others were sleek and modern.
“Should we check Harris’s office first? Maybe he was dumb enough not to delete the e-mails,” Lizzy asked, following him down a row of modular desks.
“Because there’s no need to delete your lover’s messages when her husband is totally clueless?” Enough time had passed that he no longer cared what Victoria had done and whom she’d done it with, but to learn of Harris’s betrayal left him gutted. Duncan didn’t have many close friends. He didn’t belong in a high-society world. He simply used it like one would social media to promote his business and charities. Harris had been a few years in front of him in school. He, like Duncan, had been the kid everyone picked last. Outwardly, they may have transformed, but inwardly they understood each other. They’d become good friends. Or so he’d thought. The bastard.
“What are you going to do if we find something?” she said, rushing to keep up.
“If he’s responsible for Victoria’s death, I’ll hand over everything we find to the police. If he was just screwing my wife? He’ll be looking for a new job. Either way he’s out of my life.”
“Are you jealous?”
“No.” And he wasn’t. “But I won’t be played—again.”
“Is that it? He made you look like a pansy?”
He stopped so abruptly that she ran into him. “Isn’t that enough?” he said, regretting that he said it far more sharply than intended. “Sorry. None of this is your fault.” He wasn’t going to take this out on her.
“You’re mad. I get it.”
“I’m mad at myself,” he explained. “I thought they were loyal to me. To think they’d been running around behind my back… No one wants to be made the fool.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.”
“I can remote into Harris’s computer. So we can do everything from mine.” They entered Duncan’s office, where he took a seat at the desk while Lizzy looked over his shoulder. He’d had a meeting Thursday afternoon, so one of the curtain walls was still engaged. He turned the computer on, waited for it to boot up. Two profiles popped up, A and B.
“Why do you have two?”
“A,” he said, clicking on B, “is for my assistant, Beth.” He keyed in a password, then finding the remote icon, keyed in another password to access Harris’s desktop. “I give her a new password every week, but there’s nothing overly sensitive on that profile. Just documents she needs to type or send out and meetings she puts into my calendar.”
Victoria had been the one to ask him to hire Beth as favor. They were old high school friends. When he’d found her husband was out of work, Duncan hired him too. He’d been surprised to discover Beth had cut off all ties with his wife when she’d learned of the infidelity. Beth had wanted to show her loyalties were with him. Everyone in his company had proven loyal, to the point he considered them family. To think one of them hadn’t been, especially Harris, was upsetting.
Looking at the man’s desktop, anyone could see his skills lay in math. Meticulous to a fault, every deal had its own folder and old business was allocated to a separate folder. He could see the new one they were working on and couldn’t help but wonder if Victoria had meant Harris was stealing. As a finance officer, he had the means.
Drawing a deep breath, he opened Harris’s e-mail account. Sure enough, Victoria’s last message was there, unopened. As he already knew what it said, he left it alone, going instead to the Sent folder. He didn’t know what hur
t more, seeing Harris’s replies or his not deleting them because Mr. Clueless wouldn’t bother looking? It was obvious from each response that his friend was growing more and more agitated with his wife. Clearly, she didn’t want things to end. Clearly, Harris had had enough. But to kill her?
“He doesn’t sound happy. And she’s a persistent little adulteress, isn’t she?”
“Yes, but why? She could have any man she wanted. There’s no mention of love in their exchanges, no deep emotions other than when each got angry with the other. So end it and be done with it.”
“Maybe,” Lizzy said. “But if she had dirt on him? Could she have been looking for a piece of the pie? Read them again. Do they sound like a jilted lover? Or something else? We’re assuming they’re arguing about splitting up. Maybe we assume wrong. Look at this one.” She indicated an e-mail from six days ago. This is a mistake. You need me. We need to talk. He replies with I’m fine on my own and I don’t need you. And this one from her: You can’t cut me out like this. Out, not off. And they’re super short, like they’re trying to be careful, maybe.”
“You think Harris was doing more than screwing my wife and she was in on it. Then why rat him out?”
“I don’t know,” Lizzy said, leaning her hip on the desk. “Maybe she didn’t think that far ahead. She got angry and reacted. Or there’s no proof of her involvement. These wouldn’t stand up in a court of law. All they prove is they were sleeping together.”
“Hello and welcome to Zanadoo” startled them both.
Lizzy was the first to peek around the curtain wall. “Oh shit,” she mouthed. “It’s Harris.”
Harris’s office was directly in front of his own. He could choose to confront Harris about the affair here and now, but if he was the embezzler and most likely his wife’s murderer, then he needed proof. He shut down his computer, bolted off the chair, and yanked Lizzy’s arm, dragging her under his desk.
“Are you crazy?” she screeched in a whisper.
He snuggled close, putting an arm over her shoulder and a finger over his lips. Lizzy rolled her eyes, but stayed quiet.
Even over the aromas of whatever it was she’d prepared for any one of his many functions, her scent was distinguishable. Orchids and pineapple. And if he could get her to see they were meant to be together, he’d take her somewhere she could smell the real thing. Somewhere where he could finally make love to her. She was so close he could nibble on her neck.
Impatient as he knew her to be, she tapped her wrist. He didn’t know how long they’d have to stay under his desk, and honestly, he didn’t care. He pressed his lips to her ear. “We’ll know when he leaves,” he whispered and watched her shiver. His eyes drifted shut as he imagined how else he could make her react that way. Damn, they’d be good together. No one could tell him otherwise.
His attraction to her hadn’t started out as physical, even though now every time he looked at her sweet little body, he wanted her. She’d made him laugh, and most of all made him laugh at himself, when the idea of anyone else laughing infuriated and humiliated him. She even went to Comic-Con with him and had been too busy teasing him mercilessly about the things he found cool to notice every guy in the place checking her out. Unlike Victoria, who would never step into nerd heaven. Not only would she notice men looking, but she’d soak it up. No, Lizzy was different. He pressed in closer, pretending to tuck his feet further in, shifting them both deeper under the desk. Then, as if she’d known he was thinking dirty thoughts, Lizzy gave a barely perceptible squeal, clamping her hands over her mouth. Thankfully a deep Live long and prosper came over the speakers, indicating Harris had left the floor.
“He’s gone,” he said.
Lizzy wiggled, squeezing her right arm down her side. She lifted her hip and drew out an earring. She blew out a breath. “Holy Hannah that hurt. What’s this?”
He took the earring from her hand and looked at it closely. “It’s a diamond stud.”
“Really? Huh, so that’s what they look like. Us poor girls only get Zirconieums,” she said in a very hick accent, deliberately mispronouncing the word.
“Sarcasm is unbefitting you.”
“But it’s funny.” She smirked. “Of course it’s a diamond, dumbass. What’s it doing under your desk?”
“I’m not sure. None of the women on staff wear stuff like this.” Lizzy didn’t wear any jewelry. None that he ever saw. “How come you don’t wear jewelry?”
“Accidents happen. I don’t take chances on anything falling into my food. Plus jewelry attracts dirt. Unhygienic.”
It was shame. He glanced down at her neck, imagining a fine gold chain with a single drop diamond pendant over all that creamy skin. The perfect backdrop. He licked his lips, picturing running his tongue over her earlobe, down her collarbone. The pulse in her neck jumped, her breasts rising and falling as if her breath had quickened. Had it? Could she be reacting to him as he was to her or was this wishful thinking on his part? There was only one way to find out. He looked up and saw her beautiful green eyes staring at him. Her lips parted and before he lost his nerve, he kissed her. And every nerd in the world jumped up and cheered. She kissed him back.
He was a smart man, a very, very smart man, but even he couldn’t have predicted just how good her mouth felt against his. But not even that, which in and of itself blew his mind, but she hadn’t pulled away. He was kissing her and she was not only letting him, but that was definitely her hand on his cheek. What the hell. He pulled her face closer to his. If he died, right here and right now, he’d die a miserable man because knowing what he now knew, he wanted more. Then, as eventually she would, Lizzy drew back.
“What are we doing?” she asked, her breath deliciously labored. If that didn’t stroke a man’s ego, nothing did.
“Kissing you,” he said, hoping humor would dowse any anger she might be building.
“I am beginning to seriously doubt that IQ everybody claims you have.”
At least she wasn’t mad. “Well, my lips are on yours, yours on mine,” he added, just in case she hadn’t realized she’d been kissing him back. “That’s kissing.” And he kissed again, simply to prove his point.
“Why?” she asked, her forehead touching his.
Because I love you was the first thing that came to mind, but he kept that to himself. He opted for a different approach. “Did you like kissing me?” It was a risky move, but he had to make her see or at least think about being with him.
“Did you like kissing me?” she asked.
Figures his bright idea would backfire. Maybe his IQ wasn’t that high. Did he tell her the truth? His fortune had been with one part timing, one part genius, two parts luck. Why stop now? “Yes. Very much.”
“Me too,” she said.
And if he could’ve jumped without hitting his head, he would’ve. “Then why are we stopping?” He leaned in to kiss her again, but she put a hand on his chest.
“We’re under your desk.”
“Oh, right.” He crawled out from under the desk, then helped her to her feet. Waiting patiently for all of three seconds, he pressed his mouth to hers again, this time crushing her body to his. Now, if he’d been thinking rationally he might think twice about where his hand had decided to wander. As it was, he liked the fact that it lay squarely over her ass. And didn’t it feel great. Better than he’d imagined, and he’d imagined plenty.
For the first time in his life, he felt like not only a man, but a man worthy of a woman like Lizzy. He wanted to beat his chest and announce it to the world. Hell, he wanted to strip her naked and take her right here, right now on his desk. Screw everyone else. What did he care what people thought? There was only one person that mattered and she was in his arms, her lush body plastered up against his, making him want her more and more. And he was finally going to have her.
Chapter Five
Lizzy tried to push past the sweet, oh-so-sweet, lusty haze clouding her thoughts. But when his tongue swept over hers, she gave up. This was wr
ong. Very, very wrong. But at the moment she neither cared nor remembered why. Damn, the man could kiss and kiss and kiss. She liked kissing him and she groaned when she realized he liked kissing her. He really, really liked kissing her, so much so that she barely noticed being pushed up and onto his desk. Damn the man could kiss. Wait, she was repeating herself. Oh God, was she really letting him kiss her?
This was Duncan. Sure she had naughty dreams about him but—her mind went numb as his thumb stroked her nipple. She arched into his hand. She couldn’t help herself, just as she couldn’t stop her legs from wrapping around his hips. Friction, she needed friction. Even if her brain didn’t, her body knew what she wanted. It was why she didn’t stop him when he reached down between them, grabbed the bottom of her tank and pulled it over her head. Not to be outdone, she did the same to his, and when his skin touched hers, every one of her nerve endings ignited from the pleasure.
“Lizzy, oh God, Lizzy.” Duncan nipped at her throat, sucked on her neck.
He pressed her to him with such intensity, his hands everywhere and all at once, that she was certain she’d automatically combust any minute now. Those low guttural groans she heard were coming from her. Really? She enjoyed a man making her feel good just as much as the next healthy woman, but these were the sounds of a desperate woman. Was she desperate? Again he reached between, only this time it was to unbutton and unzip her jeans. And when his hand slipped into her pants, between her thighs, she knew. Yes, she was desperate. Desperate for him.
Like a pot left boiling too long, emotions spilled over, sizzling but not extinguishing the flame. Had she been telling herself what she wanted to hear? What she needed to hear? She conceded to finding him attractive but wouldn’t allow herself to entertain anything else. To do so would mean to admit she cared for him, a path she couldn’t walk. But damn, he felt so good. So good that she said nothing when he slipped her jeans off her hips and down her legs. Was she really going to do this? Was this what she wanted—him?