“Wine with dinner,” she replied. “An occasional drink before.”
“Perfect,” he replied.
After saying their goodbyes, he escorted her to the foyer elevator. He tapped the down button, the single door slid open.
“Why are we going downstairs?” Simone asked.
“We’re taking my McLaren.”
When she worked at Mitus, the underground garage was packed with twenty cars. Tonight, she counted twelve.
“You’re a collector,” she said.
“I have a few,” he replied.
His luxury collection included the Range Rover, a Mercedes-Maybach, a Rolls Royce, an Audi, a Porsche, a BMW, and a McLaren. He opened the passenger door of his sports car, then waited until she was tucked in.
After shutting her door, he slid behind the wheel, drove toward the exit.
“I’m in the Batmobile,” she said.
“If you see the Batman logo in the sky, we’ve gotta change our plans.”
She smiled, grateful for the playfulness.
As he sped down his private drive toward the gates, he asked, “Is this a date or are we two working professionals having dinner?”
“What about friends? Could we be two friends having dinner?”
He stopped the car. “Is that what you want?”
She stared into his eyes. Even in the darkened car, they burned like a million suns, the intensity of his gaze searing her.
“What would you do if we were just friends or coworkers?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he replied. “But if we were on a date, I would do this.” He wrapped his large hand around her thigh sending zings of desire shooting through her. “I would tell you how beautiful you look, and I would do this…” He cupped her cheek with his other hand, leaned close, and dropped a tender kiss on her lips. Then, another before he gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
The air turned volcano hot around her, the need to touch him, kiss him overwhelmed her thoughts. Sheshouldkeep things professional, but she burned for him in a way that had her buzzing with hope.
She was waging war with herself.
My head or my heart? Or is this just a sexual fling?
“Let me know what you decide.” He drove to the gates, they swung open, and he pulled through. He rolled down the window, said goodbye to his guard, and headed toward Tysons.
“Your brother lives in Monarch Towers,” he said. “Is that where we’re headed?”
“You did your homework.”
“Of course.” After a beat, he said, “Tell me what you learned today.”
I learned I could be on a date with Luciano Santini.
“There are twelve employees who worked for ALPHA, then and now. Seven Ops, four from the Internet team, and one admin.”
“What does the Internet team do?” He stopped for a red light.
“Research on perps, suspects, witnesses. We also have a Forensics team.”
