Page 101 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
I can’t help the way my lips twitch because I’m trying not to smile. “This is why men aren’t allowed in my seminars—now you know all our secrets!”
A flicker of emotion crosses his face, there, then instantly gone. “Not all of them.”
With that, I’m right back into high anxiety mode about this mysterious land of no secrets he mentioned before.
Parker sees the change in my face and puts a finger over my lips. “I said it was a surprise, didn’t I?”
I nod. Satisfied, he nods, too. “And so it is. Did you pack a bag?”
I nod again. He drops his hand to my shoulder and squeezes it.
“Good. Are you ready for your first surprise?”
Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “Exactly how many will there be?”
His smile is maddeningly smug. “It’s a surprise.”
I’m about to dig in my heels and insist on an explanation, but just then someone hollers my name. When I turn toward the voice, I see Tabby striding toward me with a scowl, a sheaf of papers clenched in her fist. She sees Parker and her step falters, but then she smiles brightly and keeps walking toward us as if nothing is wrong.
I know her too well, though. That smile she’s dangling in front of Parker is about as genuine as a Kardashian’s tits.
Something’s happened.
Tabby fixes Parker in her piercing green gaze and says curtly, “Hey.”
I make the introductions. “Parker, this is my assistant, Tabitha. Tabby, Parker.”
Parker looks with bemusement at Tabby’s outfit du jour, a mash-up of heroin chic and Elizabethan Goth that features a ruffled black mini, black stockings ripped at the knees, six-inch black stiletto booties, a man’s sleeveless white undershirt, and a huge, chunky black cross on a rosary around her neck, which I know she’s wearing ironically because she’s an atheist.
“Nice to meet you.”
Tabby’s fake smile grows brittle. “You, too. Can I borrow her for a minute?”
“Of course.” Parker graciously inclines his head. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.” He kisses me on the cheek, and then turns and walks away.
There’s a certain swagger in his walk, a satisfaction, as if he’s a big game hunter who’s just bagged an elephant.
Tabby notices it, too. Watching him go, she mutters, “I don’t like this, Victoria. This weekend getaway to a place of no secrets thing?” She shakes her head. “I think you should cancel, and call this whole revenge thing off. Especially after this.”
She smacks me on the arm with the sheaf of papers. I take it from her, unroll the pages, and peer at it in confusion. The pages are covered in gibberish, rows of random numbers and symbols that are as indecipherable as hieroglyphs.
“This looks like your computer threw up. What is it?”
She pins me with a look of such apprehension it makes my blood run cold. “Evidence that someone’s been creeping a little too close to home.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning there’s a fox trying to get into the henhouse.” She jerks her chin at the printout in my hand. “This is proof that someone’s trying to hack into our system.”
My heart does a somersault. Dreading the answer, I ask, “Did they get in?”
She looks at me with deep insult, as if I’ve just taken a poop inside one of her Hello Kitty handbags. “Of course not! But this is some high-level shit, Victoria. It’s a kernel rootkit worm that can subvert intrusion detection software and basically hijack the entire system and enslave it.”
When I slow blink, she sighs.
“Your computer would be at someone else’s control. They could spy on you, see everything you’re doing, and you’d never know they were there.”
I gasp.
