She ignored the prompt and just kept smiling up at him.

Sod it, she could have this round. “So, you wanted to see me?”

Her eyes were bright, and they laughed at him behind her glasses. She didn’t need them. The lenses were from a cheap pair of reading glasses she’d got in a Pound shop, but the frames were designer and worth more than he made in a month. “Yes, we need to discuss Prometheus.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Dick.” Despite her smile, behind the cheap plastic lenses, her eyes flared with blue fire. Behind the bunny, the lion was baring its fangs, a warning before the charge. “I told you I wanted you to make the Prometheus Account your top priority, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Yes? That was a month ago. The report should have taken you a few days, max. And now you send me this?” She pulled a manilla folder out of a drawer and laid it open on the desk. A quick glance confirmed it was the paperwork he’d sent her earlier. “So, what’s the game?”

“Game?”

“You could have knocked this up in a few hours. You have been, all afternoon. So, either you had a hunch, then lost your nerve, or you were slacking off to make me look bad. Which is it?” Closing the folder, she slid it aside, then leaned forward to face him, fingers tipped by perfectly manicured nails painted speckled gold, steepled under her chin.

“Scarlett I…”

“Do you have a problem working under me, Dick?”

“No.”

“Then you had a hunch?”

“It was a stupid idea, not worth mentioning.”

“You thought it was important enough to risk the contract.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the flash drive with all his research into Prometheus and laid it on the desk. He’d forgotten about it amongst everything else that had gone on in the last couple of days and had only thought of it after receiving her email. He’d brought it along just in case. “It’s nothing.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” She took the flash drive and plugged it into her desktop. With a few clicks of her mouse, all the documents were arranged on her monitor. Spreadsheets. Invoices. Tax returns. Everything he could find on Prometheus, but would it be enough?

A tight knot of tension wound around and around his guts like a python’s coils. Financial reports. Richard watched her work. Those fierce blue eyes skimmed over the screen behind her glasses, moving from one article to the next while she caught her rose-pink lower lip between a perfect set of pearly whites.

He hated to admit it, but her look was sexy as hell.

She swivelled slowly back around in her chair to face him; her stare piercing. Not quite a lioness, but definitely not a flopsy bunny either. “All this shows is Prometheus recorded substantial profits. Hardy conclusive,Dick.”

A low shiver coursed down his spine to tingle in his crotch as his cock stirred at the way she said his growingly official nickname. The accusation behind it made him feel like he was getting a telling off from the hot teacher all the boys fantasised about.

“Since the early 90s, Prometheus has consistently recorded growing profits. Yes, however, if you look more closely, you’ll see the bulk of their earnings came from work throughout Ukraine, Estonia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, and the Baltic states. Nations recovering from the Soviet Union. Plenty of cheap labour, but a brassic economy. Prometheus’s books took a slight hit in the Global recession but remained firmly in the black until 2012, when they expanded their operations into the Middle East. Work in areas of Turkey and Syria achieved record profits, despite the numerous conflicts raging in the region.” He paused, trying to think how to put the next part.

“Go on…”

He took a breath, steeling his nerves for the plunge. “I think Prometheus has connections with Russian organised crime and is a front for criminal activity, including money laundering, drug trafficking and smuggling.”

And there it was, the complete ruin of his career. And all packed up neatly in one sentence. Who says experience counts for nothing!

For the longest moment, Scarlet let the silence drag on. Her expression impassive, unreadable, neither bunny nor lion, but her eyes, once such a vibrant blue, were suddenly steel. “I see.” Her tone was as cold and sharp as ice. “Those are very serious accusations, Dick. Ones we’re required by law to report to the proper authorities and would almost certainly result in us losing the client, even if you’re wrong. Can you prove this?”

“No,” he confessed, then added hastily. “But there are too many anomalies for it all to be just coincidence.”

“What anomalies?”

“The company was founded in the early 90s and received heavy outside funding, primarily from a now disbanded Russian-led consortium, at the same time Russian gangsters started moving west out of Moscow. They do business all over Europe but are especially affluent in areas of high Russian criminal activity and interest.”

Scarlet nodded. “And their 2012 expansion?”