Page 10 of Risk It All
“I'm going to Africa.”
Her face shows surprise, and then defeat. “It won't matter.”
I frown. “You accuse me of participating in heinous acts, demand that I do something, and now say it won't matter?”
“If you visit SiliCo Mining, you won't see what you're looking for. They'll make sure Max Delecoeur doesn't see the seedy side of how they do business.”
She's right.
“What do you suggest?”
She's quiet for a moment. “I'll take you.”
“Because they'll show an heiress and niece of a US senator the seedy side?”
“I've seen the seedy side already. I have contacts. I can arrange a guide, people who will talk to you.”
She tries to keep her expression passive, but I can see the pleading in her eyes. This is important to her. No, it's a mission for her.
“How long before we can go?” I ask.
“It will take a few weeks to make the arrangements.”
“Okay. You'll let me know everything I need to do?”
“Yes.”
I wonder if I'm doing the right thing putting this project into her hands. I don't know anything about her except that she's from a prominent family, is a talented journalist, and neither likes nor respects me. But the earnestness and hope I see in her eyes makes me believe that despite what she thinks of me, she believes I can help.
“Then we have a deal.”
“Good. Great.” She smiles and it the beauty of it takes my breath away. She's an attractive woman, even when her expression is disapproving. Even without the money and family connections, there isn't a man alive who wouldn't be drawn to her beauty, sophistication, and confidence. But when she smiles, she's radiant. It hits me like a sucker punch in the gut. Normally I'd say something about it, but I know she'll only see it as part of a seduction.
So, pulling my wits together, I nod toward the thumb drive she still holds in her hand. “Is that the research?”
“Yes.” She thrusts the drive towards me. I take it and head to my laptop.
I scroll through the photographs depicting children coated in dust carrying buckets nearly as big as they are. There are photos of sick children dying from dust inhalation. Anger and guilt swirl in my gut. I'm a part of this, and it's more than I can bear.
There's a knock on the door, but my shame keeps my focus locked on the photos. I have to see them. To view my part in these children's plight.
“Do you mind getting that? It's my midnight snack,” I ask Madeleine.
“Is that what they call it now?”
It takes a second for her comment to register in my mind. I'm looking at misery and she's still hassling me on her perception of my sex life. The anger I'd been trying to contain erupts. As she reaches the door and grasps the handle, my long legs carry me across the room. I slap my hand on the door, slamming it shut. She jerks back, looking up at me in shock.
“I get that you don't like me and that you think I'm a lothario. But I'm about to invest a great deal of time and money to look into this issue, not just for my company but to help these children. If we're going to do this together, I expect a little more respect.”
She swallows hard, but I don't see fear in her eyes. Surprise, yes. And then it morphs into what I've come recognize as defensiveness.
“You're right. I'm sorry.” Her steely gaze holds mine. “But I don't like being told what to do and I don't respond to intimidation. You'll need to remember that.”
I stare at her, shocked at her gall. She came here asking me for help, and yet continues to insult me. Energy radiates from her or maybe it's from me. It snaps and crackles between us. What is it about this woman?
I break eye contact, taking a slow tour of her face, stopping at her lips. They're lush, and God help me, I want to taste them. I force my gaze up until they meet her eyes again, and there's something in the green-hazel depths that has me feeling that she'd let me kiss her.
I push away this ridiculous attraction. “Then we understand each other.”
