Solace in Scandal by Kimberly Dean Page B

settled onto his face. ‘That one?’
    She nodded.
    His mouth tightened in a slight frown. ‘I know where it is.’
    His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but when he held out his hand she couldn’t ignore it. She placed her hand in his and felt his warm fingers wrap around hers. It was the first time since yesterday that she’d touched him back, and that awareness she’d felt began to expand. She couldn’t have been more alert to the difference in their sizes, their bodies and, most of all, their places in the world.
    They went down the hallway to the small staircase she’d found yesterday but, instead of going to the basement, this time she followed him up to the second floor. The deeper they went into the house, the quieter it was. The more secluded. The hallway was narrower on the second level and the carpet thicker, more dense. Whereas downstairs her high heels had echoed on the hardwood flooring, here her steps were swallowed up like secrets.
    Elena looked around with curiosity and some uneasiness. Leonard and Marta were puttering around in the kitchen. Up here, she and Alex were alone. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, wishing she hadn’t said no to that wine. She wasn’t afraid of him physically. She didn’t get even the slightest vibe that he’d hurt her. In fact, she got the opposite. It was just … Wild, untamed things seemed to happen whenever the two of them were alone.
    They passed an open room. A bedroom. Guest, from the looks of it. She swept her fingers over a polished oak hallway table. The flowers on it were fresh. Another open room stood on the right, and then –
    Another bedroom, and definitely not a guest room.
    She looked inside for only a split second before she snapped her head straight again. It was his. She knew without asking. The bed was made, the room was spotless, yet it somehow seemed lived in and not by a woman.
    It was his. His bedroom. His private place.
    ‘Here,’ he murmured.
    She wasn’t ready when he turned, and she bumped up against him, a tall, muscled brick wall. He steadied her, still holding her hand. ‘Sorry. Forgot to use my turn signal.’
    She smiled nervously, a little out of breath.
    Again, he hit the light switch before entering the next room. When she looked around, she realised that he’d brought her directly into the heart of the wolf’s den. Her breath went short and her eyes widened. It was his office.
    He walked to the desk and picked up the book that lay open next to his laptop. ‘Is this what you were looking for?’
    She tilted her head to read the title. ‘Yes,’ she said in surprise. It was an advanced book on macroeconomics. What was he doing with it? ‘But I can wait if you’re using it.’
    His grey stare bored into her for a moment longer than was comfortable. At last, he closed the pages with a snap. ‘I was getting nowhere with it. Maybe you can explain it to me.’
    Her jittery insides cooled. Explain market behaviour and trading philosophies to a white-collar criminal who’d secretly managed to rig the entire system?
    ‘I somehow doubt that,’ she said flatly.
    This was the home office of a billionaire entrepreneur. A software magnate and a perpetrator of a Ponzi scheme whose spider webs were continuing to be found weaving throughout society. There wasn’t much that this man didn’t understand or couldn’t master.
    Was this where he and his grandfather had come up with the plan?
    She took the book and clutched it to her chest. Her jaw set as she looked about the room. The office furniture was made of glossy cherrywood, and the chairs were that same luxurious leather, only deep red. Wall clocks kept track of various time zones around the world. Two monitors sat on the desk in front of the laptop she’d seen in the garden the other day – along with that red spiral-bound notebook. It was opened next to where the book had been, and a pen had been dropped haphazardly on top of it. Whatever notes had been written were