Protecting His Assets by J.K. Coi

sputtered, and she wanted to tell him not to do that again. “But I’m just a spoiled society brat, and if you want me to cooperate, you should probably learn to humor me.”
    He was teasing her, but she detected a thin thread of sarcasm in his voice. He obviously knew very well who people expected him to be, and instead of bucking the system and showing them all how wrong they were, he played the system, took advantage of it. She had no idea how much of his cheerfully irresponsible personality was real and how much was part of his act, but she also had a feeling that nobody else did either, because Steve Nolan was always in character.
    “I suppose that bullshit works with your employees, business acquaintances, and maybe even your friends, but I am none of those things,” she said tightly. “I’m not here to be your friend or your employee. I accepted this assignment in good faith, and whether you think I’m cut out for it or not, I’ll continue to do it until the job is done.”
    “Yes ma’am,” he said with a mock salute. His eyes shone with mirth.
    So he thought she was funny, did he?
    She shook her head, realizing how quickly she’d risen to the bait and reacted exactly the way he’d expected her to, with righteous indignation. She groaned. Did he get off on antagonizing everyone, or just her?
    She was going to have to readjust her expectations. Nolan was turning out to be more complicated than she’d expected. He played the social playboy character well, but he also had a razor sharp, sardonic wit, and he was brutally observant and surprisingly unpretentious. He didn’t fit the stereotypes, and she was embarrassed to have relied on those stereotypes in the first place. In fact, she’d done exactly what she’d expected him to do with her: make generalizations based on appearance, occupation, and background. She’d also broken half the rules that had been drilled into her during training. Never make assumptions. Stay alert. Stay detached.
    She worked the buttons and jerked off her jacket, laying it over the back of a leather wing chair that had been slashed all the way down the backrest.
    “See, isn’t that better?” he said, smug satisfaction dripping from his voice.
    She refused to comment. His gaze followed her, but there were no smart-ass remarks about the ice queen finally loosening up.
    In the boxing world, she’d gotten that a lot. She had good friends, but there were always overconfident jocks who looked at a woman in gloves with a superior sneer—before making bets on how long it would take to get in her pants. Little had they known that she’d learned from the best in the business. Instead of getting her into bed, she’d let them get her into a ring, and then she’d knocked each one of them on their ass. Sometimes that won their respect and other times…well, she’d learned to deal with that, too.
    Only once had she let another boxer get anywhere with her, but that had been different, and that had been…
    “You okay? You know you didn’t have to take your jacket off if—”
    She jerked her head up. “I know,” she said. “Let’s get back to work. Do you have a safe, or a lock box the perpetrator could have been looking for?”
    “I keep a few things in my desk but nothing really valuable.” Nolan pulled a key out of his pocket and wiggled it into the lock on the drawer in his desk. April came around to see. The wood was all scratched up, and the key didn’t want to go in at first. The vandal had mucked up the lock trying to jimmy it open. Finally, it slid all the way and clicked.
    “What’s that?” She pointed to a burgundy folder.
    “It’s nothing. A surveillance report.”
    She raised a brow. “You’re spying on someone? Don’t you think maybe you should have mentioned that when I asked if there was anyone who might have reason to—”
    “It’s got nothing to do with this.”
    “Why don’t you let the professionals be the judge of that?”
    He raked a hand