Page 66 of In Case You Didn't Know
“Have you sleptat allthis week?” Brad asks me, as we go over everything we’ve discovered in the last few days. One of the NYPD detectives called to say they’ve still found nothing. No fingerprints either digital or physical, no DNA, nada.
And our investigation has been similarly frustrating. I’m beyond annoyed but at least we’ve managed to get everything back online. The tech team has done an amazing job of rebuilding the infrastructure in the office from the ground up. We’ve re-secured every client file, scrubbed the backup servers, and tightened access protocols until even I need a thirty-two step authentication to unlock my own office.
We’re back up. Running. On the surface, at least, everything looks fine.
But it’s not.
Because whoever broke in didn’t take anything. They left a message. One I still can’t read.
We’ve been down every obvious path. Former employees. Old clients. We even checked out the guy who’d been eyeing Francie at the Ivory Club in case he was trying to get revenge for me warning him off, but no dice. And, then of course, there’s Nathan.
My ex business partner’s vindictive enough to do something like this. But he’s clean. His alibi is tight, his bank records are clear. We even hacked his fucking phone but there’s no sign of him being involved.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or more pissed off.
But Brad’s right, I’ve barely slept at all this week. Just not for the reasons he thinks.
All I can think about isher. Every night this week, she’s been my lifeline. She calls me, I turn on the cameras.
And she lets me watch.
Even thinking about it makes my body heat up. Remembering that little smile she makes when I say her name. The way her voice trembles when she whispers mine. The soft, breathless way she looks into the camera, like I’m the only thing in the world she sees.
She likes me telling her what to do. And I like it, too. Way too much.
But I haven’t let myself come. Not once. It feels like a test now. Maybe I’m not a perv if all I do is watch. Maybe I want to make it all about her.
All I know is that I won’t do it, not until I’m with her in person.
I rake a hand through my hair, trying to refocus, but the image of her arching her back against the guest bed last night keeps bleeding through my mind. Her voice in my ear. Her body in my head.
I’m obsessed. She’s all I can think about. And watching from a distance isn’t enough.
I look at Brad. “Am I still needed here?” I ask him, waving my hand at the equipment. “Or have you got this?”
He lifts a brow. “You planning on leaving?”
“I’m halfway through the security upgrade on Liberty,” I remind him. Though I think we both know it’s a bullshit excuse.
He lifts a brow. He knows how anal I am. How hard it is for me to walk away from work. Or at least, how hard it has been. But he’s still my employee. He nods slowly.
“We’ve got things under control for now,” he says, though confusion still tinges his voice.
“Great.” I send a message to my assistant, asking her to sort out a flight back to Liberty. “Call me if you hear anything at all.I want constant updates. If a fly lands on the fucking screen, I want to know about it, okay?”
His mouth twitches. “Yes, sir,” he says, touching his fingers to his brow in a mock salute.
I ignore that, too busy thinking about her.
Because the next time she says my name, I’m determined to be close enough to feel it.
nineteen
FRANCIE
My daytimes are all about writing kick-ass heroines slaying their enemies while enthralling the dark and broody hero who can’t take his eyes off her. My night times, though, have become something altogether different. More intimate.
Every night for the past week, I’ve slipped beneath my sheets and let Asher command me through the guest room security camera. My body heats up as he guides me with his low, commanding voice that I can only dream of capturing on the page.
