Theresa’s eyes immediately stop bouncing. They return to stare incredulously into mine. The veins in her neck are still thrumming, but now, it is more from anger than desire.
“So either tell me why you're wasting my valuable time, or get the fuck out of my office.”
Not waiting for Theresa to reply, I undo the button on my suit jacket and take a seat in my leather chair. Theresa remains quiet, but I don’t need to lift my eyes to know she is still in the room. If her overly floral, richly-scented perfume isn’t enough of a hint, her ragged wheezes of breaths are a sure-fire indication.
My interests from the business proposal I am reading is only disturbed when Theresa questions: “Are you familiar with a lady named Isabelle Brahn?”
Slowly, my eyes lift from the document I'm now clasping so firmly, it gets a crinkle down the middle. Theresa is glaring at me, her face blemished with not only disdain but jealousy as well.
I smirk egotistically. “I’ve never heard of her before.”
Even though my outward appearance doesn’t allude to my piqued interest, on the inside, I'm immensely intrigued as to why Theresa is enquiring about Isabelle. Normally, any official government visits involve questions based on my empire, not my personal life.
Theresa strengthens her stance and places her hands on her hips, exposing a revolver holstered on her waist. “That’s interesting,” she replies, her tone full of mockery, “as Ms. Brahn seems to know you very well.”
“Everyone in this town knows who I am,” I reply, not attempting to take a nibble out of the bait Theresa is throwing out.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot about your impressive reputation. Maybe seeing a photo of Ms. Brahn might jog your memory? I understand it could be hard for you to recall the faces of the many women you've slept with.” Theresa places a photo on my desk.
The smallest grin curls my lips high. The photo Theresa has presented is of Isabelle on the beach, wearing her microscopic black string bikini that nearly had me falling to my knees when I first saw her in it. Almost every inch of her beautiful and seductive curves are on display. My hands twitch in sync with my cock just from glimpsing at her body through a photo.
After tightening my jaw, I scrutinize the picture in more detail, while keeping my eyes off Isabelle’s provocative frame. Anytime I’m presented with something from a government official, I pay very careful and dedicated attention to every minute detail. It is usually the things people aren’t looking at that should receive the most attention. Like the smallest guy in the group will most likely have the hardest punch, the quietest men are usually the most ruthless.And obviously, the most beautiful women are the most scheming.
Ignoring the surge of blood coursing through my body, I scan the background of the photo. It was taken during our long weekend at the McGregor residence. Not only is the jetty and wooden boat shed in the background, but so is Colby. Just from that minute detail, I can derive a lot more about the FBI’s investigation into me than what Hunter, my head of security, has informed me.
After every detail of the photo is memorized, I lift my gaze back to Theresa. “There is no way I'd ever forget a woman who looks like that,” I announce, my voice brimming with sarcasm.
Theresa exhales harshly as her eyes thin.
Sensing her annoyance, I decide to add more salt to her wounds. “Perhaps you could do me a favor, and pass my number onto Isabelle.”
“I'm sure you can locate her number in her tenant application.” Theresa snatches Isabelle’s photo from my hand.
Through slitted eyes, she shoves the picture into the black handbag hanging from her now slumped shoulders. Smirking, I internally battle not to chuckle at Theresa’s obnoxious reaction to my taunt.
I return my gaze to the document I was perusing before she interrupted me. “You know the way out.”
Only once the brisk slam of my office door sounds through my ears, do I raise my untraceable cell phone to my ear.
“Boss.”
“Anything?” I ask curtly.
“Not a peep.”
I run my index finger over the top of my brow. “Keep a close eye on her,” I instruct before disconnecting the call and redialling another number.
“Boss.”
“I need you to get me everything you can on a Ms. Theresa Veneto,” I command firmly.
“I’m on it.”
“Hunter,” I say.
“Yeah,” he replies.
“I need it today.”
