Page 11 of Recovering Ivy

“To my office.”

“Why?”

“Christ. What is this - twenty questions?”

I was trying to keep my anger in check, but the day was wearing on me, and the uneasy feeling I’d had was back tenfold.

“I barely know you and you demand I get in your car so you can take me somewhere. I think I have a right to know why and where.”

“You barely know me? That didn’t seem to be a problem for you last night,” I reminded her.

“That was last night. And this is now. And, yes, I barely know you. So where are you taking me?”

“Woman, I’ve fucked you in a multitude of ways. I don’t know how you can sit there and say you don’t know me. And we’re going to my office.”

“Yes, Zane, I fucked you. But that doesn’t mean jack shit. All I know about you is you have a big dick and give good orgasms.”

“They must not have been all that good. You hightailed your ass out of my apartment bright and early.”

Jesus fuck, what was wrong with me? I sounded like a whiny teenager.

Ivy remained quiet the rest of the short drive. She didn’t speak when I helped her out of the car, or when I led her through a series of security protocols.

“Are you some prepper freak?” she asked when we entered the elevator.

“What?”

“The handprint scanner. The coded key locks. The eyeball scanner thing to open the elevator. Jeez. Are you planning for the end of the world or are you hiding a secret Batman cave?”

If she only knew.

The security was necessary if I wanted to stay alive. Not that I would tell her that. Instead, I remained silent as the elevator rose to the third floor. When the door opened to the inner sanctum, I heard her heels clink on the concrete floor then stop.

“Wow. I was right. You’re hiding a Batcave.”

I took in the large space, trying to see it through her eyes; several doors open to private offices and a large command room enclosed in smart glass. The room housed all the surveillance monitors and was supervised 24/7. In the middle was a maze of cubicles with high-tech workstations. All clean lines with gray walls and chrome accents. I was proud of what I’d built.

I turned left and pulled her into the conference room. There was seating for eighteen around the large table, with a sixty-inch LCD screen on the wall above a credenza which I kept well stocked with high-end liquor behind the hand-carved wooden doors. This was the room where we planned our missions and I met with future clients. It was a well-appointed room and screamed class and privilege - something I didn’t have growing up.

I lowered the blackout shades that also served as soundproof insulation over the polycarbonate ballistic windows. The entire office was fitted with bulletproof and soundproof walls. Every precaution had been taken so that the outside world could not intrude - something that was necessary when you are dealing with top secret missions. Not that my meeting with Ivy was top secret, but I wanted privacy.

I also wanted her uncomfortable.

I didn’t have the time or the patience to extract the information I needed with bullshit niceties. The sooner I learned about her involvement the better.

So, I set about doing just that. “How long have you worked for Forester?”

“Why? What’s this about? Are you investing in Techwatch? I don’t know anything about the technology behind the product. You’ll have to ask Mr. Grant.”

“What exactly do you do for Forester?” I asked.

Declan walked in and set a folder on the table in front of me. I opened the file and thumbed through the eight-by-ten photographs inside.

What the fuck!

“Tell me, Ivy, does your job description entail you setting up prostitutes for Mr. Grant or do you simply enjoy watching?”

I was pleased when the blood drained from Ivy’s face, leaving her pretty complexion a nice shade of white.