Page 81 of Pretty Little Threats

I slip the violet sweetheart-neckline dress off the hanger. It’ll look better with my eyes. Giving Dare my back, I slide the dress up my body, settling the cap sleeves overmy shoulders. I reach for the zipper. Dare bats my hand away, and I suck in a sharp breath, hating that he snuck up on me. He zips the dress, then wraps his hand around my throat, tugging me back against his body the same way he did that day we met at the bakery.

Only, this time, my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason.

Dare strokes the column of my neck. “You like teasing me, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” My body melts against his.

He chuckles. “Careful what games you start, wife.” Dare releases me and backs away, leaving me flustered, but by the time I turn around to snarl at him, he’s already gone.

“Fucker.”

“I heard that,” he calls from the bedroom. “Stop wasting time. I have a ten o’clock meeting.”

To my surprise, Dare sets me up in the vacant office next to his. There are more than a few curious looks sent my way and a particularly dirty look from one woman. Great. I do not want to have a run-in with a Dare Richardson groupie. The IT guy finishes setting up my computer and showing me the program Vista Holdings uses—he’s smart enough not to ask what I’ll be doing—and soon enough, I’m left alone in the office with the keys to the kingdom.

A group of staff walks by the see-through windows, gawking at me and then swinging their heads around to gawk at the woman in the cubicle across from my office. She’s fuming, and that anger is directed at me as soon as they pass.

What did you expect? A warm welcome?

Sighing, I ignore the visual daggers being thrown my way and start fiddling with the systems on my computer. Vista Holdings operates a private bank and a lending company: Vista Bank and Vista Lending. The bank, I’m less concerned about for now, but I still click through everything I’ve been given access to.

There’s software for timekeeping and accounting, but I’m not interested in that. Although Dare said he’d give me access, when I click on the lending software, I expect a giant red DENIED message to flash across the screen. It doesn’t.

In fact, there’s no delay at all. I can’t edit any fields—which makes total sense, I’m not trying to mess up any applications—but as far as I can tell, I can see everything. That doesn’t mean he hasn’t hidden certain things from my view. The only way to know for certain whether he’s given me full access is to look at the user permissions.

Another worry for another day.

The archived loan applications are easy enough to find, as are all the underwriting documents. I’m a little annoyed that everything is so organized. Dare’s record-keeping policies are clearly top notch. Even my dad would approve.

Twenty loan packets later, a few hours have passed and my stomach grumbles in annoyance. Everything I’ve reviewed is clean. I’m definitely not an underwriter, but I can follow their documentation, and every time, I agree with their final decision on the amount to lend the customer. The interest rates are reasonable. Customer initials are on every page. The full terms were disclosed. There’s no evidence of malice.

Yet.

Dare strolls in and smirks at the annoyed look I shoot his way. “Having fun?”

“It’s been a riot,” I tell him, leaning back in the comfychair. It’s the only reason my lower back isn’t screaming at me.

“Take lunch with me.”

“What will your girlfriend think?” I nod at the woman who’s now glaring at Dare like she wants to chop his dick off.

Jealousy is an uninvited companion, but she makes herself known in the way my fingers tighten on the arms of the chair to keep from giving him more of a reaction.

Dare glances over his shoulder to see who I’m talking about, then laughs. “That’s not my girlfriend. That’s Briana. This used to be her office.”

My mouth drops open and guilt swims through me. No wonder she’s been giving me death glares. “What the hell, Dare?”

“You don’t like the office?”

I swear he’s being a brat on purpose. “No, you asshole. Of course she’s pissed off at me, because you made her move. Give the woman her space back.”

“You’d rather sit in a cubicle?”

“Yes!”

His eyebrows twist and he searches my face. “You’re serious?”

“Oh my god.” I shove away from the desk and march out of the room, heading straight to Briana, who narrows her eyes at my approach. I hold up one hand to show I mean no harm. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

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