by Aria Ford
“I hope we can see each other soon,” he demurred, letting the towel drop as he pulled on his briefs. I stepped back, studying his body with some luscious longing. He had a narrow waist, broad shoulders and strong thighs. Shapely calves, rippling biceps and that muscled chest all told the same story – this was a man who worked out a lot.
“Ainsley, do you think we could...” he looked up and caught my eye on him. He flushed.
“What?” I teased.
He looked away, sharp-edged grin letting me know he had the same sudden cascade of naughty thoughts as I did.
“Nothing,” he said.
He dressed in silence and I went into the kitchen, getting things out for breakfast.
He appeared in the kitchen door, fully dressed, a handsome slightly shower-wet Disney hero with a crisp white shirt and semi-formal slacks, navy blazer folded loose on one arm.
“I should go, huh,” he said.
“Stay for coffee, though,” I protested, reaching for some of the capsules I'd bought the other day from Nespresso.
He looked at his big Rolex. “I have to go,” he said. “Actually, I'll take a coffee. Quickly?”
He held me against him as I set about making the coffee and I reveled in the feel of his arms around me even though I knew that soon he would have to go.
He drank the coffee and then kissed me, pressing dark coffee-flavored lips to my mouth.
“See you tomorrow?” he asked. His big brown eyes were hopeful. My heart flipped over.
“I hope so,” I commented.
He grinned. “I hope so too.”
Then he was hurrying through the door and I could hear the thump of his shoes as he walked quickly down the stairs.
When he had gone I was amazed by how shaken I felt. I reached for his coffee-cup, almost not wanting to wash the slight stain off the edges where his lip had touched. I went briskly through to the bedroom and steeled myself, then pulled the coverlets back over the bed, forcibly smoothing out the dent in the mattress and pillow where he'd lain.
There, I told myself firmly. I bit my lip. I was absolutely not going to cry.
When I found the navy-blue tie on the seat in my bedroom, I felt my heart clench almost painfully. I picked it up, holding it tightly and pressed it to my lips, breathing the scent of his cologne. I let the silk run through my fingers once or twice, feeling it lovingly with my fingertips as I recalled the evening when he wore it, sitting opposite me at the table over dinner.
Then I put it on the side-table.
“Come back to get it,” I whispered challengingly to the still air of the bedroom. I imagined him hearing me and turning at the window, that stunning body half-naked, sharp smile on his lips.
Then I turned around and headed quickly to the door. I lifted my handbag and my keys and headed, heels loud on the tiling of the hallway, down to the lift and out to my car.
I had a long day ahead at work.
I floated dreamily into my office, thinking I had managed to look perfectly aloof and neutral. But Emmy looked up at me the moment I came in, copper-brown eyes narrowed shrewdly.
“You had a good weekend?”
“Yes,” I said, non-committal. “Yours was too?”
“Yes,” she said, stretching expansively. “I took Stan to the baseball game, and we spent the day there...” she trailed off, yawning. Stan was her six-year-old. I smiled, imagining how much fun he must've had.
“It must have been fun,” I commented, hanging my bag over my chair and sitting down.
“It was,” she said. “But you look like you had fun too.”
“I do?” I raised a hand to my cheek, suddenly blushing. What was it that made it so obvious? Could everyone see?
She chuckled. “No need to be so secretive about it...not like it's a crime to enjoy yourself. What'd you do?”
I smiled. “Nothing much,” I said. I wasn't going to give away my secrets to Emmy, the singularly greatest purveyor of office gossip this side of the Florida River had to offer. I kept my secret to myself, though I couldn't help a funny smile crossing my face as I thought of Drake.
“Fine,” she said lightly. “Be like that. Oh, and Piper was in here – she wanted to know if you're doing the preface from scratch, or translating the old one?”
I sighed. “I think I'll write a new one. There's stuff in there that needs explaining to a broader audience.”
“Okay,” Emmy nodded. “Just let her know, hey?”
“I'll do that,” I said, switching on my computer and looking for the most recent files.
As I set about working I found my mind turning to thoughts of Drake. I wondered what he was up to, what his workday was like. I imagined that stunning body striding through the courtroom – even though I knew he didn't do that as an in-house lawyer – and wished, distantly, that I could be there.
Must be the first time anyone wanted to go to court.
I chuckled. I saw Emmy move as if she wanted to ask me something and then she turned abruptly back to her work again.
I guess I shouldn't be so secret, really, I thought, feeling a little guilty. After all, I was dating. That's all she needed to know. I didn't have to tell her the who, what and how. And why wasn't I telling her? She was a friend – or close enough, anyway – and she'd be pleased for me.
I realized that I wasn't telling her because I wasn't sure of my own thoughts on the matter.
Sure, I think Drake is stunning and gorgeous and I am really glad to have seen him again. But do I want him in my life?
It should have been a no-brainer, that question, and it mostly was. Who wouldn't want a stunning, smart, funny guy they were once wildly in love with to come back into their life, after all?
It was two things that put me off. Firstly, why had he done what he did all those years ago? Just walked out without any hint of whether or not he would come back for me or letting me know when he had?
Secondly, why the about-turn? Why had a guy who was so committed to uplifting people suddenly joined forces with a company with such a bad reputation?
None of this puzzles well together.
I frowned at the French preface, making my mind return from its wanderings and into the present at work. I spotted the places where I'd highlighted things, notes in the margin nearby for what I needed to explain in detail.
This makes more sense than my life does right now, I thought with some humor as I frowned and went to look up a better translation for “angoisse”.
Later, over lunch-break, I was online, spending my time looking at new lounge-suites – I really wanted a new one and had been saving up – when the thought occurred to me to find Drake's professional site. I typed in “Steelcore, Drake Leblanc”.
I found him – looking stunning and fresh in a suit. I smiled at his profile picture, stupidly. I was glad no-one else was in the office to see me. As I read down the list of skills and achievements – very impressive they sounded, too, as he'd been “employee of the month” at least twice – an article on their “current” page caught my eye: Hacking threat foiled.
I clicked and ran my eye absently down the lines of text. I'm not a technical buff, but it sounded like someone had been trying to infiltrate bits of the data-base that no-one was supposed to access.
I found myself reading an excerpt aloud. “As this information is of a sensitive and confidential nature, it was necessary that swift action must be taken, said executive Brad Shane.”
I wonder what information that was?
I sighed. I was going all suspicious on them. Of course some companies had confidential information. Even stuff like tax reports was probably confidential. Or exactly how much money they made in a year. Or trade secrets. All the same, it grabbed my interest and I found myself doing a search for more information on the company.
I scrolled down the list of search results. There were the usual sites making accusations about Steelcore – I wasn't sure how many of them to believe. The most fair of them said that it was “unclear” as
to whether or not Steelcore profited from exploitation and child labor in Brazil's iron-mining circles. I do hope they don't.
The thought of Drake being a tame lawyer for a company that sent ten-year-olds down mine-shafts was not something I wanted to think about.
If that's what Drake is like now, I don't want to know him.
Until I knew for sure, keeping a certain aloofness might be my best bet after all. I would wait and see.
All the same, I couldn't help a big smile as I leaned back, remembering the night with him and just how incredible I felt this moment.
CHAPTER TEN
Drake
I felt incredible all day. I was at my desk, reading through a contract between Steelcore and a car manufacturer, when I heard a message-tone.
I held my breath, hoping it was Ainsley. It wasn't.
Hi Drake. We're in big trouble.
I messaged Liam hurriedly, feeling my heart tighten in my chest.
What trouble?
He messaged back almost immediately.
Check the “current interest” page of the Steelcore site.
I did that. I stared. Hacking attempt foiled.
I scanned through the article, feeling nervous. It didn't sound too bad. They had definitely noticed someone was poking about in the database, but it didn't sound like they had any idea who it was or what they might have been searching for. I sighed.
It's okay. Can't know it's us.
I waited for his reply, and when it came my heart sank shockingly.
I don't know if they do or not. Have to wait. They could know.
“Oh, no.”
I closed my eyes, thinking about that. At this time, it was the last thing we needed. I had finally managed to talk up Shane Wesson, the guy in charge of the archives, to letting me have a look in there. If I didn't manage to take advantage of that before the news broke, it would all be worthless.
I'd have spent the last two years working for these people for nothing.
Well, less than nothing, actually, because if they found out that an employee had been involved with some subterfuge then I'd be out of a job, my reputation shot to blazes and likely facing a court-case myself.
Right. Be calm.
Ridiculously, my first thought, in the face of this, was about Ainsley.
If I lose my job, what would she think? I don't want to get her tied up with a guy who's on the wrong end of the law.
I knew better than anyone how illegal it was to be doing what I was doing – leaking information from the company's private files into the public eye – but it had to be done. My good intentions, of exposing corruption and abuse – weren't going to make a blind bit of difference to a judge. I knew that. And if they sued me, there's no way I'd be able to pay.
I rested my head in my hands, wondering what to do next. I messaged Liam.
What can we do about it?
Liam messaged back.
Nothing yet. Apart from waiting.
I closed my eyes. Patience was never my strong suit. If we had no other option but to sit and wait and see whether or not we'd got away okay, I thought I might actually go mad.
I'll come visit tonight, I messaged back.7
Better not. No point linking us.
I nodded. The thought was at once disturbing and comforting. It was disturbing because that meant that, if Liam was discovered, I wasn't supposed to step in and help him. We were meant to keep ourselves distinct so if one of us was caught, the other could keep on. I didn't want to think I could do that to him.
On the other hand, it was a sound idea. If one of us was arrested, at least the other one could continue the work. And there was no reason – besides phone-messages – to be able to link us to each other.
Delete this conversation, huh? I texted.
I did.
I did the same and then leaned back in my chair. My heart was thumping and my head reeling. There was no way I could concentrate on work right now.
“Drake?”
I jumped in my seat and then sat down again as Shane looked at me weirdly.
“Sorry,” I said, flapping a careless hand in his direction. “Just startled.” I paused, getting my breath back. “Whew.”
Shane frowned. “Concentrating hard, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Damn contracts. What can I do for you?”
He chuckled. “Nothing, right now, Drake. Is this the contract you need to see in the archives for?” he asked.
“This one? No,” I said quickly. “The one I need to see in there for was one I was checking yesterday.” I was lying through my teeth, but he wasn't going to know that.
“Oh.” Shane nodded. “Hell. Well, good thing I came by today. Here you go,” he said. He passed me a key. I stared at it.
This was the key to the archives. The one I'd been trying to get a hold of for two years. And now, plain as day, here it was on my hand? It didn't really make sense to me yet.
“Hell, Shane. You sure about that?”
“Of course, Drake. If you can't trust the company lawyer, who can you trust? Eh?”
I tried not to react to the irony. I nodded. “I guess.”
He put his hands in his pockets. “Well, I guess if you're going in there, it's best to do it round now. Old Brackley doesn't like it when people go in there too long.”
I raised a brow and nodded. “I'm only needing to check an agreement drawn up in the eighties,” I said. “Some minor thing. Surely he wouldn't mind?”
Shane shrugged. “Probably not. You know how some guys are, though. Paranoid.” He chuckled.
I joined in the laughter though it felt uncomfortable. In this particular case, the paranoia was justified. I really was going in there to snoop around. I felt bad, since Shane was trusting me and I was about to betray that trust, but what could I do.
“Thanks,” I said again, putting the key in my pocket carefully. I stood and pushed in my chair, following him to the door. “Appreciate it.”
“No worries,” Shane commented. “See you later.”
I checked my watch. “Probably,” I said. “I want to try and get home earlier today, though,” I added. “Been too long since I worked out.”
“Okay,” Shane shrugged. “Whatever. Maybe we can go have a drink or something tomorrow.”
“Sure,” I nodded warmly. “Sounds good.”
When he'd gone I sat back and closed my eyes a moment. I couldn't quite believe it. After almost two years of working here, I was finally in.
I had a fair idea of when the dodgy deals had been made, so it wasn't going to be impossible to find proof of them, but it could take more time than I had. And we were running out of time overall.
I sighed and walked after Shane, heading to the archives. Whatever the odds were stacked against this mission actually working out, I had to try.
When he'd gone, I went straight to the shelf where I thought the files should be. “Somewhere round nineteen-eighty-five,” I murmured. I pulled down one of the folders and then another, looking for anything that looked like it had copies of contracts inside.
I sneezed as the dust tickled my nose and the smell of copier ink – oddly nostalgic – drifted up to my nostrils. I shook my head, sighing.
There were lots of contracts. Contracts with electricity companies, gas providers, truck companies...I was starting to think that I was wasting my time here.
“I'm not going to find it, am I?”
I flipped through the folder and reached up for another one. I was looking for a contract with a mine in Brazil. I knew it must have been signed between eighty-two and eighty-five, because I had talked to guys who had been employed here at that time and they'd said that was when business suddenly took off. As if the company suddenly had half the overheads they had before.
I put the folder I was holding back and reached for another. As I was about to do it, I stopped. Turned back a page. Something caught my eye. A staid-sort of header that would normally not have caught my eye except for the very fact t
hat it was understated.
“Steelcore Inc, with a business address at sixty-third avenue, Miami FL, hitherto known as the client, enter into this Business Contract for the performance of services to be laid out in this Document...”
My eyes scanned down the legal-speak until they fell on a name. “...with the company Blue Vales Mining, business address 3 de Sousa avenue, Rio...”
I almost fell off the chair. I had found it! This was the contract. The one that could be used to prove, without a doubt, whether or not Steelcore was supporting worker exploitation or underage-labor. I felt as if my hands were trembling. I drew out my phone and took a photo of it. Then I sent it to Liam. I put the contract back into the folder, stood and quietly left.
When I got to my office I was shaking. I waited until Liam could confirm he'd received the photo and downloaded it. Then I deleted it off my phone and headed into the coffee-room. I badly needed a coffee.
“Hey, Drake,” Shane called out. He was sitting in a thread of sunlight, a mug of tea held between his hands. “How'd it go? You found what you were looking for?”
“I think so,” I nodded. “And I found a dust allergy I never knew I had,” I added with a laugh, taking out a tissue and blowing my nose.