Page 97 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
He jerks his chin at the mocking cartoon cat bouncing around on his computer screen. “If I hadn’t secured the network with my own custom anti-intrusion software that cuts off an infected machine, my whole shop would be compromised right now. In other words, my entire business would be toast.”
His gaze burns into mine. “Nobody fucks with my business, brother.”
We stare at each other while the clock on the wall ticks and ticks and ticks.
I say, “Give me a few days.”
He nods. I pick up the phone from his desk, slip it into my pocket, and turn to leave. When I’m at the door, Connor’s voice stops me.
“Parker.”
I turn and look at him. He glances at his computer screen and then back at me. “Be careful.”
Though I’m not anything close to happy, I smile. “Roger that.”
Feeling as if my feet are sunk in quicksand and it’s only a matter of time before I drown, I head to Xengu.
TWENTY-EIGHT
~ Victoria ~
I’m up to my neck in bubbles when my phone, perched on the ledge of the bathtub, begins to ring. I stare at it with trepidation, as if it’s the gynecologist calling with the lab report on a suspicious-looking vaginal sore.
Today has been one nightmare after another. My editor called to inform me that due to high demand for my next book, the publication date was bumped up, which means I need to complete copyedits within the next week; I haven’t even started on them yet. Then my long-time trainer, Duke, asked for a loan to open his own gym, which of course I shot down because Duke has the business acumen of a jock strap, which I told him, which is when he threatened to sell a highly unflattering story about me to People magazine, which is when I reminded him of the confidentiality clause in his contract and informed him I wouldn’t hesitate to crush him if he breached it, which caused him to call me a few choice names, ending with a four-letter word that ends in unt.
That word was not aunt.
To top it off, the hotel Tabby booked for my seminar on Friday called in a panic to say their ballrooms had all been flooded from a malfunctioning fire sprinkler system. I have to find a new venue with seating capacity for over two thousand people, and notify all those people…within the next two days.
I’m tempted to throw the phone across the room and watch it shatter against the vanity mirror. Naturally I don’t—I love the Swarovski crystal–studded cover—but answer it instead. My voice holds all the cheer of a wake.
“Victoria Price speaking.”
“Why do you sound like your cat just died?”
My lips tug upward; it’s Parker. “I don’t own a cat.”
His answering chuckle is deeply arousing. “I happen to know for a fact, Ms. Price, you own a beautiful pussycat.”
My smile grows wider. “Oh? Do tell.”
“Well, let’s just say she’s quite high-maintenance and demanding, but if you stroke her exactly right, she’ll purr so loud the neighbors will hear. She’s the sweetest little pussy in the world.”
I can’t help it; I break into a big, stupid grin. “I can be as high-maintenance as I want; I’m the one paying the bills.”
“We were talking about your cat, remember?”
“Ah, yes. My mistake.” I decide to torture him a bit, just for fun. In a playful tone, I ask, “Would it interest you to know what my kitty cat really enjoys?”
I hear his slow inhalation before he replies, “Yes. That would very much interest me.”
I lift my leg from the water and admire the way the bubbles slide down my wet skin in a glossy meander. “She loves to be kissed.”
When he answers, his voice has dropped an octave. “I recall that.”
“In particular, she loves to be kissed and stroked at the same time. It drives her mad.”
He clears his throat. I imagine him loosening his tie.
