Page 105 of Pandora's Pleasure
“All I’m saying is, let me know if you want to leave. I’d like to go with you.”
I sat back on the couch, sipping my coffee. “I should have left a note.”
He’d wrapped his hands around his coffee mug, too. His expression was softer than I was used to—gone were the frown lines and all traces of concern.
Half an hour ago, we’d returned from our swim in the ocean and had even showered together. It was a nice romantic touch after our virtual standoff.
“Just be more self-aware,” he said.
“Security are still out there.” I looked in the direction of the team I never actually saw, toward the invisible men who gave us the illusion of freedom.
“I’m responsible for you.” His brows shot up. “Is that my laptop?”
I’d placed it next to me. “Yes.”
“You want to check your email?”
“I have my phone for that.” When he wasn’t going around confiscating it, that is. “Let’s find out who sabotaged your project.” I lifted his Mac onto my lap.
“How do you intend to do that?”
“You told me the project has been shut down. Come on, we’re losing precious time.” I patted the seat beside me.
Damien gave me a suspicious look as he sat on the couch next to me. “Something tells me you’re about to surprise me.”
“I’m polite enough to ask for your permission to access this information.”
He leaned over and tapped in his password. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Yeah, maybe not.”
With a few taps of his fingers, we were in. “There you go.”
“What’s this?” I pointed to the screen. “Is this the Fairfield Project?”
He leaned over and pressed his fingertip on the mouse pad, bringing up a series of architectural designs. “These are the schematics for my youth center with an after-school program.” He pointed to the adjoining building. “An indoor and outdoor area where we’ll hold sporting events.” He pointed. “See, the housing is over here. This is where they can safely walk from here to there, back home.”
“This is incredible.”
“Right up until they ordered us to stop.”
I gestured, indicating I needed control of the keypad.
Damien’s hand rested on mine. “You don’t need to do that.”
“You know who hijacked your land?”
“Have my suspicions, yes.”
“Who?”
“Helen King.” Damien sat back, his expression pained.
My chest constricted. King refused to hide her contempt for political forward thinking. She was power hungry. If she had shut the project down, it would surprise no one.
“Were you going to try to figure it out?” said Damien.
“I was going to hack into the Title Office. See whose name was on record as taking over the land.”
