Page 19 of Keep Him Like Secrets

It was just then, though, that Saff’s head turned in my direction and landed on me.

“Oh, hey…” Bastian cleared his throat. “Mr. Vale,” she added, slickly slipping behind a mask that hid away all that passion I’d seen on her face a moment before.

Had I interrupted a lovers’ quarrel?

Was she involved with her assistant?

She certainly wouldn’t be the first boss who screwed around with someone working directly beneath them. Though that cliché was typically reserved for male bosses with female subordinates.

“Miss Amato,” I said, moving closer.

“Are you ready to take the tour?” she asked, waving toward the front of the building. “Don’t mind the… vaginal graffiti,” she said, making a snorting laugh escape me. “I’m actually kind of a fan of it,” she added, going to the door and unlocking it. “That will be all, Bass,” she said, not even giving the man a second look.

“Trouble with your… assistant?”

“He has a lot of opinions. And sometimes forgets I’m in charge.”

Everything about that rang true to me.

Maybe I was just seeing things that weren’t there.

Still, maybe it would be wise to learn more about the woman I was getting into bed with.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

CHAPTER SIX

Saff

I’d been nervous about the tour with Soren. Mostly because Bass couldn’t mind his own business and decided to show up to lecture me about how I should and shouldn’t behave.

I didn’t seehimdyeing his hair at eight in the morning, then slipping his feet into mile-high heels so he didn’t look like a little girl playing at being a boss babe.

Alright, fine. I didn’t greet Soren right at first. But he’d surprised me.

I mean, how much of my little argument with Bass had he seen? Or, worse yet, heard?

He showed no signs of suspicion, though, as we moved through the dark, dirty building, each of us occasionally making comments about the changes that would need to be made to get things up to code.

“Do you really think there’s enough room back there for an elevator?” I asked as I came up to the edge of the stage. I was way too short to just hop up there like Soren had done.

“Let’s see, shall we?” Soren asked, leaning down and holding his hands down toward me.

A cool, calm, collected businesswoman wouldn’t allow a man to literally pick her up, would she?

That said, it also seemed rude to ignore him.

The little quirk of his brow—something I took as a challenge—settled the debate for me.

I slipped my hands into his, ignoring that same sizzle I’d felt when we’d first shaken hands, even as it snaked up my arms, across my chest, then downward.

Soren’s hands tightened on mine, and then he was pulling up.

When it came to stature, I certainlylookedlike the kind of woman who would be picked up. Personality-wise, though, I would probably knee a guy in the groin if he tried.

I’d always been secretly insecure about how short and slight I was. It was hard being a woman in a violent, male-dominated field. It was harder still being asmallwoman in it. I was underestimated constantly. I had to be twice as tough to get half the respect.

I wasn’t an idiot; I knew how my colleagues talked about me and my “temper.” But they conveniently forget that it’s not until I throw a fit—or a pool ball—that I’m taken seriously.

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