Page 42 of Sasha’s Secret

It was a no-brainer, and she almost snarled the word. “Mine.”

* * *

Rocco would have put his arm around her shoulders but counted himself lucky she was letting him hold her hand.

She truly hadn’t expected the news he’d given her, and the resulting anger rolled from her in waves. Her trust and judgment had been gravely wounded, generating feelings that were best released, rather than being kept bottled up. And when they were released, he was going to be there for her.

As soon as they reached her quarters, Sasha led the way inside. Rocco barely had time to cross the threshold before she spun around and flung herself at him, managing to slam the door shut behind him as momentum almost forced him off-balance. Her lips smashed into his, while her fingers tangled in his hair to anchor him in place for a kiss that scorched and sizzled through his whole body.

When Sasha came up for air, she took a step back from him, panting for breath. “I know what you said, but tell me who it is. I need to know if I’m right.”

She was frustrated, and he didn't blame her. He hated being the source of that frustration, but until they had sufficient evidence to back up what he’d found, he didn't want to put her working relationships at risk with unfounded accusations. “You know I can’t,” he said gently, reaching toward her to pull her back against him. “What if I’m wrong?”

“What if you’re not? What if I’m right and it’s who I think it is? I can help.”

“Listen. I don’t know who you think it is, but we can’t name names until we have solid proof. Nick knows his way around financial records, and if there’s anything else that looks suspicious, he’ll find it. He knows what to look for. For all I know, what I found could be a genuine error.” He didn't think so, but there was an element of doubt.

“And whoever it is could be committing more crimes right now. The longer we wait, the more damage they can do.”

“Agreed, but look at it this way—if they are, they’re providing us with more evidence to build a case against them.”

He studied Sasha for a moment. Reluctant acceptance haunted her eyes, but she was still surrounded by a boiling cloud of nervous energy. Rocco held out his hand, unwavering in the face of her fiery, assessing stare.

Sasha laid her fingers across his. Slowly, he stroked them with his thumb. As he did so, he watched out for changes in her level of agitation. Not that he had her fooled for one moment—she knew exactly what he was trying to do. For a second or two she held his gaze, then her grip on his hand tightened. “Bed. Now.”

Rocco didn’t argue.

* * *

The suite was so quiet, he could almost hear his own heart beating. Even though this wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d encouraged Sasha to finish work early, he didn’t regret what had happened, and he couldn’t complain about the result—not when that result was Sasha nestled against him, deep in an untroubled sleep after a session that had made wild monkey sex look like a vicarage tea party.

Not that Rocco had attended too many of those in his time.

Although Sasha was finally resting after the earlier upset, Rocco couldn’t say the same for himself. His inner turmoil was severely at odds with the tranquility surrounding them. Soft, low-key lighting was supposed to be soothing, but he had too much going on in his mind for it to work.

He knew he was right not to disclose the names of the two alleged embezzlers to Sasha, no matter how much she’d tried to coax him into divulging the information. If it turned out he was wrong and he’d divulged their identities, those working relationships could be permanently wrecked. He wasn’t here to make Sasha’s life harder.

“What time is it?”

The sleepy question returned his focus where it belonged. He glanced at his watch. “Almost eight. Are you hungry?”

Her sigh skimmed over his chest, breathing new life into his desire for her. “I don’t know.”

Rocco waited. He couldn’t say why, but he had a feeling she had something on her mind.

“I’m sorry.”

An apology was the last thing he expected. “What the hell for?”

“Being a bitch.”

Not what he expected, but he had no intention of playing stupid games when she sounded so unhappy. “You weren’t a bitch. Right now, you feel let down… angry. It’s understandable.”

“I shouldn't have taken it out on you.” She shifted position, as if she were trying to extricate herself from the arm he’d had around her for the last hour. “You need to let me take a look at your back.”

“You didn’t draw blood, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He’d checked when he went to the bathroom to dispose of the used condoms. The rake of her fingernails down his back had left red weals, but she hadn’t broken the skin. The prognosis was favorable that he’d survive. After all, his body had endured far worse.