by Alexia Adams
“Great, that will make my life easier. However, I still need your password.”
Simon had vouched for her, so he’d let her start. He gave her his password then moved to stand behind her, intent on watching her work. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, and within seconds, he was lost as the screen filled with computer code he couldn’t understand.
“You put your designs on the network?” she asked ten minutes later. He was leaning against the wall, just watching her work, no longer trying to make sense of what she was doing.
“Yes. I design and select the gems, but I leave it to my production team to assemble the pieces. Having the blueprints on the computer means they can work even if I’m away on business.”
“For the next week or so, avoid uploading anything new.”
“Why?” He leaned in over her shoulder, but as he couldn’t read what was on the screen, his gaze drifted down to the gap between her lapels. Was she wearing anything under the jacket? Was the fabric rubbing against her nipples, making them pebble?
“The design files have been accessed by more than the production department. I’ve only got terminal IDs, so I can’t tell who, but they don’t match with the computers that have accessed them prior to the last four weeks.”
A chill replaced the heat that had infused him. “Have they been emailed outside of the company?”
“No, but all someone would have to do is take a photo of their screen with a cell phone, and there’d be no way to trace that.”
“Shit.”
She stopped typing and looked up at him. Her face softened, and she put a hand on his arm braced on the desk next to her. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this sorted. I’m going to tag the files and that will ping me whenever someone accesses them. If you’re really paranoid, you can upload some dummy designs, and I’ll put a tracer in them so we’ll be able to tell if they show up elsewhere. I’ve also put a double firewall around your and Margaret-Mary’s email accounts. Now I’ll hunt for the malicious code. It all started in the accounting department, right?”
“Yes. Random invoices have been getting dropped from the payment schedule. Now suppliers are holding vital materials, and the financing I want to go in on a mining operation in Canada is in question.” He took a swig of the coffee Kat had brought to wash down the taste of bile in his mouth. So far, he’d managed to smooth over all the issues raised by the technical glitches, but it didn’t cover the fact he was being betrayed from the inside.
She sent him a gentle smile, acknowledging his frustration. “There are a couple of sandwiches in the plastic bag. I wasn’t sure what you liked so there’s a tandoori chicken and a tuna melt.”
“You mean there’s something you don’t know about me?”
He was pretty sure she’d lied about some of the answers she’d given him. After all, trotting out their fake story about meeting on a layover, in answer to one of his questions, was highly suspect. Although, the emotion she’d shown when discussing her family held a ring of truth. That her history resonated deep within him, causing some long-dormant feelings to flicker to life for a moment, was not something he cared to contemplate right now. She was a fascinating woman, one who, under different circumstances, he’d take pleasure in getting to know further. A great deal of pleasure.
Actually, that may be the answer. He’d discovered Paulina’s treachery when she’d thought Wolfe had fallen asleep after sex. His muscles tensed remembering the whispered phone call he’d overheard her make divulging the details about a diamond shipment he expected. Pillow talk had been his downfall once; it wouldn’t be again. But he’d ferreted out more than one secret while between the sheets.
Kat shrugged. “Surprisingly enough, your sandwich preference wasn’t listed in any of the documents I read. And there are millions of things I don’t know. But if you take me to dinner tonight, perhaps we can narrow that down to a few hundred thousand.”
“I thought that was just an act for our audience.”
“Your previous romantic relationships have been all over the tabloids, so I thought we needed to be seen in public as well to cement the lie. But if you don’t want to go, that’s fine.”
She returned her attention to the screen, effectively dismissing him. He’d been told on more than one occasion that he shut people out when he was working, but this was the first time he’d been on the receiving end. As he couldn’t figure out what she was doing, he pulled a sandwich from the bag and retreated to the sofa. Maybe it was a lucky guess that tuna melts were his favorite. Maybe she’d been lying again. Maybe it was time to get even in the information department.
“I’m going to step out for a minute. You okay here?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t even look up, her fingers flying so fast on the keyboard they were a blur.
He slipped out and, after ensuring that no one was around, called a private investigator he’d used before. Bedding Kat would be enjoyable, but he sensed she was a lot more practiced at deceiving than Paulina had been. Kat was unlikely to slip up in the night. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to see if he could discover what she was hiding with a few passionate kisses.
It was time he got some straight answers. One way or another.
…
“There you are. Oh, you are a beauty.” Kat took a moment to analyze the malicious code embedded in the accounting system. Most hackers had a signature, a way of coding or a preferred language or style that identified them as clearly as a mug shot. Or they just straight out signed their work, arrogant bastards.
She was proficient at recognizing the top twenty corporate hackers and could usually at least figure out where the code originated geographically based on the language of choice. This she hadn’t seen before. It was beautiful in a childlike way. Raw and unpretentious, it instructed the computer to eliminate any invoices containing the number twenty-seven in any of the entered fields: date, amount, quantity, address, whatever. It would have taken weeks to figure out the pattern manually. It was also completely anonymous.
She took a screenshot of the malicious code to save for further analysis, then killed it. It would take a few hours to read through the rest of the program to ensure it was clean, but she could do that tonight. She closed all the backdoors she’d opened then created a ghost user account for herself so she wouldn’t need to use Wolfe’s login in the future.
Speaking of the man, where’d he go? She had a vague recollection of him saying he was popping out for a minute. It was nearly two o’clock, time for his meeting with Harry. She should get a move on. Especially as she wanted to get to Covent Garden before the dancers arrived for tonight’s performance. It’d been a huge bonus to taking this assignment that the Bolshoi Ballet was in London. Would her sister be there? She wasn’t listed as a ballerina anymore, but maybe she’d transitioned to another position.
Kat shut down her laptop and returned it to her bag, then reconnected the network cable to Wolfe’s computer. She stretched her arms wide to ease the tense muscles in her back. Of course, that would be when his office door opened. Heat started in her lower belly then moved upward as his gaze caressed her body.
“I…uh…I found the bad code in your accounting software. The good news is that it doesn’t appear to be a root hack kit, something that infects your servers. It was an embedded command that affected this one program, and I’ve deleted it. I’ll check the software again more thoroughly this evening.”
“I thought we were going for dinner.” He moved toward her. His gray eyes held her captive, a deer caught in the headlights.
Snap out of it, Kat. It’s all part of the masquerade. “If you like. But dinner’s not going to take the whole evening, is it?”
“All of it. And part of the night, too.”
She swallowed. “That’s a lot of eating.”
“Oh, there’ll be entertainment as well.” He was next to her now, the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his body reached out and held her where she was.
“What kind of entertainment?” Her
gaze fastened on his mouth and wouldn’t move.
His hand slid from her shoulder to her elbow then moved around her waist to her back, pulling her off balance and against his body. “The kind that involves two people getting to know each other.”
His head descended and he brushed his lips against hers. The almost kiss was like the first jolt of caffeine in the morning, awakening her senses. Automatically, her mouth opened, inviting his exploration. Instead, his lips skimmed over to her ear, the tip of his tongue tracing the outline of the lobe. Damn, had that moan come from her?
“You think I’m going to fall at your feet, don’t you?” The breathiness of her voice unnerved her. Her reaction to a man hadn’t been this out of control in years. But it wasn’t fear making her heart pound.
“I’d never let you fall. But by the end of the night, I’ll know exactly what you have on underneath that jacket.”
Outside the office she could hear Harry and Margaret-Mary talking. If they really wanted to sell this fake relationship, they should be caught in the act. “Why wait until tonight?” This is for the job. That’s why I’m doing this. Has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that I’ve been wondering what his kisses are like since we first met.
She slipped the concealed buttons from their holes and dropped the jacket on the floor. Her nipples hardened under Wolfe’s intent gaze. The silk of the camisole and the lace of her push-up bra felt as tight as the wrapping her mother used to make her wear around her breasts and she longed to shed them as well. The heat that had infused her earlier now blazed like a glass furnace.
“Bloody hell, Kat. How am I going to work this afternoon?”
She pulled his head down to hers as she heard his office door click open. “Very quickly.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought you’d gone already.” Harry’s over-posh accent barely registered as Wolfe kissed her. His tongue invaded her mouth, caressing the inside of her lips before plundering, searching for something. He must have heard his friend’s arrival as well but didn’t seem at all fazed that they had an audience.
By the time he released her lips, they were both breathing heavily. He held her body pressed against his, her breasts flat to his chest. At least Harry’s view of her was blocked by Wolfe.
“Give me two minutes,” Wolfe said over his shoulder. Harry backed out the door, and Wolfe bent and retrieved her jacket, his eyes not venturing below her chin. “Until tonight.”
Chapter Three
Kat lurked outside the performers’ entrance to the Royal Opera House. The Bolshoi Ballet’s three-week season had only a few days left before the company would return to Moscow and out of reach. For five years, her sister Natalya had been a principal ballerina, the culmination of all their mother’s hopes and dreams. More like rabid ambition that had ripped the family apart, left Kat homeless and alone, and her beloved sister trapped in a career she hadn’t really wanted.
She’d seen that same ambition in Wolfe’s eyes. An obsession with fame had destroyed her life once. Never again.
Until two years ago, Kat had been able to keep tabs on her sister through her ballet career. Natalya had been the darling of the Bolshoi, as talented as she was beautiful. Then suddenly she’d been dropped from the performance billings and apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. Not even a cyber fingerprint remained of her sister. At first Kat had assumed Natalya had taken a much needed break, or perhaps a minor injury had dropped her from the roster. But as weeks had turned to months, she’d become more concerned. Her letters had been returned unopened. She’d even contemplated a visit to Moscow, as fraught with danger as that was, in the hope of finding her sister.
This trip to London, coinciding with the Bolshoi’s guest performances, had saved Kat the peril of returning to her homeland. The question now was how to discover what had happened to her sister without a) revealing they were related and b) still keeping her American identity intact. Kat had made some powerful enemies in Russia and if they knew Natalya was her sister, they wouldn’t hesitate to use her to try and get at Kat. They hadn’t made the connection yet. Or had they? Was she being drawn into a trap? Natalya’s disappearance relentlessly tormented Kat.
Fangirling to meet the dancers seemed the only option to get answers, and the best targets would be the male performers. So here she was, dressed in a short skirt, thigh-high boots, a crop top, and leather jacket, loitering on the streets of Covent Garden. Any second now she’d be picked up for solicitation. But it was a better disguise than the business attire she’d worn to Wolfe’s office.
Her body reheated as she recalled his embrace. Bozhe moi, he was tempting. And she’d been so good for so long. Wolfe was the first man to give her goose bumps with just a look. Didn’t she owe it to herself to fully explore this new development? Why not enjoy life for a few nights?
It could never be more than that. A permanent relationship was out of the question for her. Any moment her American identity could be blown and she’d have to reinvent herself again. Wolfe already made her long for all the things she couldn’t have—a physical relationship with him would only intensify that. For her sanity’s sake she should keep him at arm’s length. But her body didn’t give a shit about mental health, it wanted Wolfe.
She was saved from frying her brain cells with further consideration about the evening’s activities by the arrival of a half-dozen dancers. She singled out one of the men and leveled her most sensuous smile his way. On cue, he detached himself from the group and approached her.
“I just love ballet dancers,” she gushed, using her best British accent. “Can I get your autograph?” She handed a piece of paper and pen to him.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to sign somewhere more personal?” His thick Russian accent grated against her nerves. She bit her tongue to stop from shutting him down in Russian.
Instead she giggled. “Maybe tomorrow when I come for the performance. Last time Natalya Smirnova autographed my book. Is she not dancing this year?”
He signed her book, looked over his shoulder, then passed it back to her. “No. She no longer dances.”
So it wasn’t just a temporary thing. Kat put a hand on his arm as he moved to rejoin his group entering the theater. “Is she okay?”
He cleared his throat and said louder than necessary, “I know nothing of this person.” Then he lowered it again and whispered, “It is better for you not to ask.” With a fake smile, he returned to the group.
Kat pocketed the paper and pen and walked off in the other direction, a chill in her bones that not even riding the Underground on a summer’s day could dispel.
She was still thinking about her sister three hours later when she entered the Ting restaurant. To try and bolster her mood, she’d put on a red one-shoulder dress and her favorite Louboutin heels, black patent leather with a leopard-print heel and the signature red sole. Her shoe collection was her greatest extravagance, closely followed by her lingerie addiction. Having had to hide being a girl for so many years, she was making up for it now.
“Miss Smith, Mr. Wolfe is waiting for you at the table,” the maître d’ said as she finally acknowledged her surroundings. The lighting was subdued, probably so the amazing view could be seen with minimal reflection. And given how far apart the tables were spaced, the restaurant catered to those whose need for privacy was matched by their bank account.
Wolfe stood as she neared, and she allowed her eyes to travel the length of him. He still wore the suit from this afternoon, but he’d changed the shirt and lost the tie. The kiss he placed on her cheek in greeting seemed anticlimactic after their smokin’ embrace in his office.
“Champagne?” he asked as the maître d’ hovered.
“Not for me. I’ll have a vodka martini, extra dirty,” she said.
Wolfe’s eyebrows nearly met his hairline, and he cleared his throat before saying, “Same for me.”
The maître d’ hurried off to place their drink order. When she glanced at him, Wolfe’s eyes seemed focu
sed on her ear. That was a fetish she hadn’t come across before, but remembering the feel of his tongue as it traced the outline of her lobe, one she could deal with. She forced her gaze to the view so he couldn’t see the lingering passion in her eyes.
“You don’t wear jewelry?” His question came out of the blue, startling her attention back from the sight of Tower Bridge lit up against the night sky.
“Occasionally, but with you being a jewelry designer, it seemed rude to wear someone else’s pieces. Kind of like putting on a negligee another man bought to tempt a current lover.”
“So what do you do with past lovers’ negligees?”
“I buy my own lingerie, just like I buy my own jewelry.”
“What about a gift, in appreciation of your company?”
She shrugged. “My company comes without price.”
A waiter appeared and placed the drinks on the table. With only a discreet movement of his hand, Wolfe waved him away.
“It will look odd if you’re my girlfriend and not wearing any jewels.”
“Just tell people I’m not like your other girlfriends. I don’t conform to popular perceptions.” She took a sip of her drink and waited for his reaction. This is why she didn’t date. Everyone always wanted to put her in a convenient category.
“You are definitely nothing like my other women. Harry had as difficult a time concentrating at our meeting as I did.”
“Tell me about him.” She took another sip of her martini and watched the expressions chase themselves over Wolfe’s face. Although he had no right to feel possessive about her, that’s the one that lingered the longest.
“Why?”
“Just a strange vibe I got in the elevator on my way to your office. And yesterday when I asked who you trusted, you only said Margaret-Mary.”
It was his turn to stare at the view. “I’ve known Harry since school, same as Simon Lamont. But unlike Simon and me, Harry came from a big, loving family. His parents and siblings were always at each sports day and achievement awards ceremony. He acted like he was a bit superior because he had people who cared.”