Page 37 of Wicked Little Thief


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She felt him kiss her hair. “I’m sorry I neglected you, little bee. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

As she lay safe and content in his arms, she felt the furthest thing from neglected.

Chapter Fourteen

Liam

“It worse than we thought,” Lori Hughes, Boston General’s CFO said the minute he walked into her office early Tuesday morning.

He’d spent the entire previous night going through the new data she’d sent him about their security breach last month. Every time he scrolled through a new document, all he could think was, I should be balls deep in Utah right now, not looking at this shit.

Liam left the house at the crack of dawn. His only consolation had been how fucking sexy she’d looked when he pulled back the covers and discovered her in black lace, and how she’d cooed with pleasure when he pulled her close to him. And having her in his arms meant he’d slept like a baby for the four hours he had available to sleep.

The alarm on his wrist had buzzed too damn early. Especially since his original intent for that morning had included watching her give him a dildo show in the shower, followed by fucking her senseless. That plan, and the one he’d had last night for DPing her with her purple vibrator, had gone to hell the second he’d read Lori’s text.

He left the house before the sun even came up, after writing Utah a note that he’d text her later that morning and would try to be home before dark. Which, for Boston in July, wasn’t saying much.

He mused Utah’s reaction would be a good indicator if they had any real long-term potential.

“How bad?” Liam asked as he dropped into the chair across the desk from his CFO.

“Our best estimate is now at forty-five million.”

“So, five million more than what you sent me last night, and twenty million more than we originally thought.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but what’s really changed? How much of that were we ever really going to see anyway?”

Lori sighed. “Oh, it would have been pennies on the dollar. But forty-five million pennies is still something.”

“And IT has no way of telling which accounts were legitimately paid and which weren’t?”

“Not yet, it’s going to take time. This guy was good.”

Dammit.

Maybe he knew someone who could help.

****

Utah

She checked the clock when she woke up alone and found it was a little after seven. Liam’s side of the bed was cold, just like it had been the day before. The guy was definitely an early riser.

Taking a long stretch, she basked in how nice it felt to get a good night’s sleep and wake up in his comfy bed, in his beautiful house, in his gated neighborhood—where no one knew where she was. It was a far cry from waking up at every little sound, unsure if it was the police or FBI agents outside her door or just a noisy neighbor.

Utah threw the high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets back and sat up, unable to contain her smile when she noticed the sunlight shining through the streak-free windows of his bedroom. She’d been here less than forty-eight hours and already felt lighter than she had in a long time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d appreciated something as simple as a sunbeam—or clean windows.

She was going to spend another day playing princess, and she wasn’t at all mad about it, but she knew not to get used to it.

After stopping by the bathroom, she opened her suitcase and pulled out her purple cotton robe, slipping it on as she headed for the stairs.

There was no smell of bacon this morning or sounds of life. In fact, the house was eerily quiet. Phoebe hadn’t been in her bed either, so maybe they’d gone for a run like they had yesterday.

But there was a sheet of paper on the island counter that hadn’t been there the night before. Her name at the top jumped out at her, so she picked it up.

Dear Utah,

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