and beneath me. That’s the only way I’ll be
able to get you out of my head.”
He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t
dance around the subject. And he was utterly serious—I could feel his heart
rate pick up beneath my palm touching his chest.
“I—”
“Are you scared of me?” he demanded.
“A little.” My breathing became a harsh
tremble as he stroked the delicate column of my throat, and I dug my fingers
into the front of his shirt. “A lot .”
“You shouldn’t be.” He withdrew his arm
from my back, pulling his other hand from my throat reluctantly. “There are no
strings with me, Lizzie. But for now … let’s just eat. If I keep touching you,
I won’t be able to stop.”
But when lunch was over and I headed back
to Emerson & Taylor, feeling dizzy from being in Oliver’s presence for so
long, I told myself just how wrong he was when he told me there were no strings
when it came to him.
“Which is why I need to hurry the hell up
and find some answers,” I told myself firmly, making a beeline for Margaret’s
office with an empty USB drive grasped firmly in the palm of my hand.
Hopefully, Pen would be able to find something that would help us because the
longer I stayed around these people—the more I let myself get involved with
Oliver—the more tangled this mess became.
*
When I presented Pen with the
USB drive, she asked me to bear with her until Monday, but she gave me the bad
news a day early. Margaret’s desktop was squeaky clean. “ Nothing ?”
Because she’d dragged me with her to a twenty-four hour gym that was around the
corner from my apartment, I spoke in a hushed voice. “Nothing at all?”
“She must keep all her dirty shit on her
laptop. Unless you count her searches for herself, and some socialite Oliver
apparently used to date, her office computer is freakishly empty.”
I tore my eyes away from the Walking
Dead marathon playing on the tiny screen above my elliptical, creasing my
brows together as I faced her. “Oh? Which woman?”
“Your attempt at sounding nonchalant
sucks so hard,” she said dryly as she pushed a damp strand of dark hair off her
forehead. “But, since it might be important—Finley Scott.” The name didn’t ring
a bell, and I grabbed my phone from its spot inside the machine’s cup holder.
“Ugh, just screw the man already. You’re seconds away from falling on your
face just so you can look up his ex-girlfriend. That’s kind of sad, sweetie.”
I narrowed my dark eyes into a glare as
my fingers tapped across the smooth keypad. “He’s my—” My words caught in the
back of my throat as several images of Finley Scott popped up on my screen.
With her chin-length, shiny mahogany hair, startling hazel eyes, and Yoga body,
she was hot. Outrageously hot. But what the hell did I expect when it came to
Oliver?
“If you were about to give me that
stepbrother crap, I’m going to knock you off that damn machine myself,” Pen
stated hotly, rubbing her towel over her face before tossing it over her
shoulder. “ I’m more related to you than he is.”
I returned my phone back to the tiny
compartment on the elliptical, adjusted the incline, and pumped my legs even
harder than before. “So now what?”
“You want my opinion on Oliver?”
“I’m talking about his mom,” I said
between clenched teeth.
“Ahh.” I couldn’t miss the grin that
moved across her face. “I’m going to work on getting into her laptop, but in
the meantime, you need to figure out how to get into her house.”
“Great,” I whispered under my breath.
Pen turned to me abruptly. “You can do
this. You’re her personal assistant, so she’s bound to send you there for
something eventually. Figure out a way to speed that up.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“Don’t worry, if there’s anything to
figure out, we’ll get it.”
“And if there’s not?” I asked miserably.
Though I hated to admit it to Pen, there had been many times where I
able to get you out of my head.”
He wasn’t kidding when he said he didn’t
dance around the subject. And he was utterly serious—I could feel his heart
rate pick up beneath my palm touching his chest.
“I—”
“Are you scared of me?” he demanded.
“A little.” My breathing became a harsh
tremble as he stroked the delicate column of my throat, and I dug my fingers
into the front of his shirt. “A lot .”
“You shouldn’t be.” He withdrew his arm
from my back, pulling his other hand from my throat reluctantly. “There are no
strings with me, Lizzie. But for now … let’s just eat. If I keep touching you,
I won’t be able to stop.”
But when lunch was over and I headed back
to Emerson & Taylor, feeling dizzy from being in Oliver’s presence for so
long, I told myself just how wrong he was when he told me there were no strings
when it came to him.
“Which is why I need to hurry the hell up
and find some answers,” I told myself firmly, making a beeline for Margaret’s
office with an empty USB drive grasped firmly in the palm of my hand.
Hopefully, Pen would be able to find something that would help us because the
longer I stayed around these people—the more I let myself get involved with
Oliver—the more tangled this mess became.
*
When I presented Pen with the
USB drive, she asked me to bear with her until Monday, but she gave me the bad
news a day early. Margaret’s desktop was squeaky clean. “ Nothing ?”
Because she’d dragged me with her to a twenty-four hour gym that was around the
corner from my apartment, I spoke in a hushed voice. “Nothing at all?”
“She must keep all her dirty shit on her
laptop. Unless you count her searches for herself, and some socialite Oliver
apparently used to date, her office computer is freakishly empty.”
I tore my eyes away from the Walking
Dead marathon playing on the tiny screen above my elliptical, creasing my
brows together as I faced her. “Oh? Which woman?”
“Your attempt at sounding nonchalant
sucks so hard,” she said dryly as she pushed a damp strand of dark hair off her
forehead. “But, since it might be important—Finley Scott.” The name didn’t ring
a bell, and I grabbed my phone from its spot inside the machine’s cup holder.
“Ugh, just screw the man already. You’re seconds away from falling on your
face just so you can look up his ex-girlfriend. That’s kind of sad, sweetie.”
I narrowed my dark eyes into a glare as
my fingers tapped across the smooth keypad. “He’s my—” My words caught in the
back of my throat as several images of Finley Scott popped up on my screen.
With her chin-length, shiny mahogany hair, startling hazel eyes, and Yoga body,
she was hot. Outrageously hot. But what the hell did I expect when it came to
Oliver?
“If you were about to give me that
stepbrother crap, I’m going to knock you off that damn machine myself,” Pen
stated hotly, rubbing her towel over her face before tossing it over her
shoulder. “ I’m more related to you than he is.”
I returned my phone back to the tiny
compartment on the elliptical, adjusted the incline, and pumped my legs even
harder than before. “So now what?”
“You want my opinion on Oliver?”
“I’m talking about his mom,” I said
between clenched teeth.
“Ahh.” I couldn’t miss the grin that
moved across her face. “I’m going to work on getting into her laptop, but in
the meantime, you need to figure out how to get into her house.”
“Great,” I whispered under my breath.
Pen turned to me abruptly. “You can do
this. You’re her personal assistant, so she’s bound to send you there for
something eventually. Figure out a way to speed that up.”
“I’ll work on it.”
“Don’t worry, if there’s anything to
figure out, we’ll get it.”
“And if there’s not?” I asked miserably.
Though I hated to admit it to Pen, there had been many times where I
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