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Screwing me was almost certainly part of that.
Iknowshe must have heard Anya gushing about “knowing me” at Club Venom. I might have been wearing a mask, but between Anya using my fuckingname, and my recognizable tattoos—that you can see even when I’m clothed—Elsa absolutely knew who I was.
She didn’t just kiss me because she thought I was some random guy.
She kissed me to getmyattention. To seduce me. Which…worked.
I’m just trying to figure out what the point was in fucking me as it pertains to her working with Leo.
Unfortunately, my plan for burgling her office gets scuttled when I pull up outside the Midtown office building that houses Crown and Black. The bank branch on the ground floor is apparently getting wired up for a new and improved security system, which means there’s about twenty cops milling around at every entrance and stairwell.
I mean, the Drakos family has “friends” in the police force. But twenty cops turning a blind eye to me waltzing into a law office at two in the morning? Pushing it.
Five hours later, though, after napping in my car, it’s on.
It’s Saturday. I’m sure that Crown and Black has their paralegals and interns pulling weekend hours, like every other big NYC firm. But it’s still early, and the top three floors that house Crown and Black are empty. Just in case, though, I come in quietly through a maintenance elevator, making sure I avoid the security cameras until I get to Elsa’s office.
It’s locked, of course. But I’ve been picking locks since I was ten, and hers isn’t exactly Fort Knox.
Once inside, I get to work.
Her desktop computer is my first pick, obviously. But it’s password protected, and I don’t have the time to try brute-forcing it, nor do I know Elsa well enough to try guessing random passwords.
I just know her well enough to know the sounds she makes when she comes. To know how sweet her pussy tastes. To know she went fucking wild when I pulled her hair, and spanked her ass.
To know she almost came when I fed her my cum off my fingers.
Enough.I grit my teeth, shaking the distracting replays from my head as my dick turns to steel in my pants. Time enough later to jerk off remembering the night I just spent with her.
Right now, I’m here on business.
The locked file cabinet opens just as easily as the door to her office. I comb through it, looking for anything Reznikov or Stavrin-related. Anything to do with Mirzoyan too, for that matter. But all I find is some flimsy shit pertaining to some building permits for Gavan Tsarenko, who I know also employs Taylor Crown herself for his own legal needs.
I scowl as I close the cabinet with nothing to show for my efforts. It’s the same disappointing result with the files in her desk drawer, and the only things I find in the closet are four librarian-esque skirt suits in varying shades of gray, gray and gray, and a yoga mat.
Fuck.
I’m making a quick poke around the attached private bathroom, complete with shower facilities, when I hear the office door rattling and then opening.
Shit.
I duck back behind the half-closed bathroom door, peering through the door jamb.
It’s fuckingher. Elsa’s panting, her chest rising and falling under the sports bra she’s wearing underneath an unzipped hooded running top, together with leggings and jogging shoes.
All black and gray, becauseof course.
She’s even got her hair up in its typical severe ponytail. I watch as she turns to frown at the doorknob, because I left it unlocked, and she’s probably wondering how she missed locking it the day before.
But she shakes it off, turning to walk over to her desk. I shift to the side to try and get a better view through the cracked door.
…Which fuckingcreakswhen I brush against it.
Goddammit.
Instantly, I hear her sharp intake of breath.
“Whoever thefuckis in there, I’ve got a gun!”
