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Qasim dropped a quick, pacifying kiss to the corner of her mouth. He let her ease down the length of him until her feet reached the floor. “When I get back, okay? I already put in my dinner request with the cook staff.” He winked, hoping the gesture masked his worry and reluctance to hear her tell him that she wasn’t ready or able to commit to the relationship he very much wanted to share with her.
Vectra watched him return to the bedroom, where he hunted down his socks and shoes.
“I need to talk to you about Will,” she said, watching as he tied his second loafer. “Will Lloyd,” she unnecessarily clarified, swallowing when he stilled and shifted his black gaze to her.
“What about Will Lloyd?”
His question sounded soft, stilted. Vectra rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to stop their rapid blinking. When she looked up again, he was right before her.
“What did he say to you?”
Qasim had apologized to Will for ordering him not to speak or even look at Vectra. He knew, though, that there was someplace deep and dark inside him where the apology hadn’t quite rung true. “What’d he say, Vectra?”
“Nothing—”
“Vectra,” he snarled.
She winced, but wasn’t about to lose her nerve when she’d already said so much. Besides, it was too important to back down from.
“He didn’t say anything to me. It was Minka.”
Somehow Qasim’s scowl increased in menacing potency. His reaction was Vectra’s only hint that he’d heard what she’d said.
“She wouldn’t tell me what he said to her specifically, but she’s got reason to believe Will’s been...helping himself to foundation money. She says she can prove it. Will suspects she knows. I–I don’t know what he’s threatening to do if she said anything to you so...” She stretched her lips in an awkward smile and shrugged. “She came to me.”
Qasim shook his head in a way that signified he’d heard enough. He turned, buttoning his shirt while stalking the room for keys, which had slipped from his trouser pockets the night before. Locating them, he left the room without another word to Vectra.
Chapter 16
“Sim? Man, you wanted to see me?”
Qasim looked up from the folder he’d been studying and tilted his head back slightly to acknowledge Will Lloyd’s greeting.
“Have a seat,” he called.
“Sorry I’m late.” Will made his way to the lounge area of Qasim’s office. “Didn’t realize running a charity required so much number crunching. It’s a good thing I’m a math freak.” He grinned. “But that’s probably why it’s so easy for me to lose track of time when I get goin’ with something.”
“Well, your math and social skills are what got you this job, you know?”
Will’s grin took on a devilish tint. “Thought I got the job because of my lifesaving act of valor on a sandbank a few years back?”
Grinning as well, Qasim stood as Will took a seat in one of the leather box-style chairs that flanked a matching sofa. “It didn’t get you the job, but it’s the reason I’ve kept you around as long as I have.”
Will’s easy expression betrayed signs of strain at the edges. He served up no rebuttal, however.
Qasim passed the chair his old friend was occupying. Along the way, he dropped the folder he’d been studying into Will’s lap. “You don’t really have to read that,” he said. “My guess is you’re pretty familiar with it, anyway. It’s more for me so I can keep it all together, especially when there’s so much of it and it’s been going on for so long.”
Will managed a curious laugh and checked the contents of the folder. Qasim watched the expressions change on the other man’s face and smirked.
“You notice the docs in that folder date back almost two years—about ten months after you came on board as the foundation’s business director.”
The folder tumbled from Will’s hands.
“Couldn’t you have at least given me a year, man? Just one year before confirming what I suspected about you from the first day we met?” Qasim asked, walking back to his desk. “I actually doubted myself.” He tapped his palm to the front of the vest he wore over a dark shirt. “It’s not every day I doubt myself, but, well...you did save my life and all.”
“Sim—”
“I’m real big on oversight committees, Will. They do more than point out mistakes. They keep people honest...most of the time.”
Qasim strode to the front of his desk. “You were good. The folks on that committee are no slouches, but you managed to keep them three steps behind. I had no reason to doubt you.” He perched on a corner of the sectional desk. “I mean, you did save my life and all.”
