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He smiles. “It’s settled then.”
For now, the label of no label works fine for me. If only I could get my traitorous heart to stop stuttering every time he looks at me.
CHAPTER 15
Tarek
I’d like to say the entire last few weeks have flown by, but no, they’ve dragged. Sure, Sloane was able to decrypt the code she stole from Craig, but it’s the other needs I’m talking about. The personal ones I shouldn’t be rehashing again and again, especially now as I wait in my office.
Besides wanting to rip her clothes off whenever I see her, Sloane’s been a pleasure to be around, especially since she’s found a few holes in my security. Plus a few choice contacts of Craig’s that I hope to utilize in the future.
Two bashful knocks on my office door tell me Lewis got my summons.
“Come in!” I holler, springing up from my chair and over to the carafe of dark roast on a nearby table.
I like offering my employees something to drink every once in a while, but that doesn’t mean I’m warming up the espresso machine or grinding anything fresh. Something tailor-made to vampires or not. If Lewis is the informant, I want him close and comfortable, not suspecting that I’m onto him.
I pour myself a cup, then pull out two packs of Crimson Nitros next to the creamer. Caffeine-infused energy drinks on the go for the busy vampire. I inherited a giant case of it after giving the company’s COO some golf pointers. A weird way to say thanks to an orc but also useful when hosting as often as I do.
My commissioned oak door creaks open, and I turn to shoot my potential enemy a casual grin.
“Lewis, have a seat. How do you take your Crim?” I ask, using the abbreviated version and official brand slogan.
Lewis looks to the pack in my hand then to me, then back to the pack. I try not to gape as he furiously licks his lips while tugging at what I think is a clip-on tie.
“Um, am I being fired?” Lewis still hasn’t taken a seat, so I gesture to two chairs opposite mine but with a shake of the head this time.
“What makes you say that?” I slide his cup across my desk, trying to look as innocent as possible.
Just hand them all out at once and make sure he gets the right one. I’ll do it even, Sloane’s warning echoes in my mind. If you give him the phony file with the phony intel personally, you might as well tell him you know he’s Craig’s spy.
Fuck. I just wanted to control the situation and make sure no one else in accounting knows Lewis is being tested. But most of all Lewis, who I see now is not so much relaxed as he is worried, leaning back in the chair and tapping a tune on his lap with his hands.
“Not a fan of free drinks?” I try, then plop into my chair. I can’t imagine that standing over him is helping.
“I love free drinks,” he replies, though his gaze lingers on the tidy stack of folders on my desk.
Curious. Is he simply nervous or elated to be so close to potential information? “But I like my job more. I mean, I like having a job more.”
His smile isn’t exactly what I’d call practiced. If Craig is working with the pale and sweaty math whiz, it’s not for his people skills. That’s for sure.
“Which is exactly why I wanted to talk to you.” I grab the file and hand it to him. “Wanted to give you the new assignment myself, just so I can let you know what a great job you’re doing.”
I force myself to stay calm and keep the friendly expression masking my real emotions plastered to my face. After a moment, Lewis’s bony shoulders drop and he leans forward to grab his drink. “Oh, that’s great news.”
I feel a satisfied smirk coming on and clear my throat to keep it from showing.
“I’m happy to hear that,” he finishes.
A thin line of B-positive crim runs across his thin upper lip. For some reason, the sight sends pain signals to my stomach. Or at least that’s how I choose to explain the sensation. This just isn’t our guy. It can’t be. How would Craig even know this guy?
“Good, then you won’t be upset if I send you off with another one.” I slide the unopened pack over.
“No, sir,” he says before sliding back his chair and standing up.
The folder on his lap falls to the floor. I instinctively get up to collect them but stop myself mid-stand. I clear my throat again and shuffle further into my desk. For all he knows, those are average papers that every accountant has. I’d like to keep it that way, so I fiddle with a miniature sand garden on my desk as he snatches up the second pack.
Sloane was certainly correct that I should have played this better. But what can I do now other than see it through?
