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To a stranger, she might have looked oblivious, blind to the goings on around her, her focus dominated by her work, but Richard knew better. Scarlet was anything but oblivious. She was the sort of woman who woke up intending to conquer the world. Who missed nothing.
Without waiting for an invitation, he crossed the wood panelled floor, bypassing the plush leather sofa to take the simple leather and teak chair opposite her side of the desk.
She didn’t look up, nod, or do anything to acknowledge his presence.
Nor would she. Not yet. Not until she was ready.
It was her game, a power play to remind the minion just who was the boss.
Well, at least she didn’t make him pass her tea or pick pens off of the floor.
The office had been the department’s briefing room before her appointment. Her predecessor had made do with the windowless coat cupboard three doors down. It was simple and functional, but large enough to impress. And beige. Very beige. Beige walls. Beige rugs. Beige leather…
Beige. Safe and soothing, and not at all Scarlet Holmes.
She was as bloody crimson as her namesake. And then a dash extra.
All heat and passion and searing raw emotion. And beauty.
Scarlet flaunted flawless skin, tanned to a soft peach hue, that complimented the waves of spun gold that tumbled down to her shoulders. She wore a tight white dress that showed off plenty of leg and had a deep plunging neckline to emphasise her figure. There wasn’t a man alive who could deny Scarlet was very lovely.
The matter wasn’t up for discussion. It was a fact.
And only skin deep.
Beneath the fragile beauty, she was as hard and sharp as steel. A lioness disguised in a little bunny’s fur.
He ignored the urge to check his watch. That subtle hint would only prolong the game, though. Scarlet would see to that, sure enough. So instead, he amused himself by watching the goings on outside the tall windows behind her desk that overlooked the line of narrow boats and yachts moored along the Sharpness Canal.
The view was wasted on Scarlet.
When she turned to him, the bunny beamed up at him. “Hey Dick.”
“Hi Scarlet,” Richard smiled back, inwardly steeling himself. If she wanted to play her games, he’d play. “How was your day?”
It was a poor effort, but the best he could do on the fly. It got the job done.
“Oh, the usual, same shit, different day. You headin’ home for the day?”
“Yeah soon, just had a couple of things I wanted to finish up first.”
She ignored the prompt and just kept smiling up at him.
Sod it, she could have this round. “So, you wanted to see me?”
Her eyes were bright, and they laughed at him behind her glasses. She didn’t need them. The lenses were from a cheap pair of reading glasses she’d got in a Pound shop, but the frames were designer and worth more than he made in a month. “Yes, we need to discuss Prometheus.”
“Oh? How come?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Dick.” Despite her smile, behind the cheap plastic lenses, her eyes flared with blue fire. Behind the bunny, the lion was baring its fangs, a warning before the charge. “I told you I wanted you to make the Prometheus Account your top priority, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes? That was a month ago. The report should have taken you a few days, max. And now you send me this?” She pulled a manilla folder out of a drawer and laid it open on the desk. A quick glance confirmed it was the paperwork he’d sent her earlier. “So, what’s the game?”
“Game?”
“You could have knocked this up in a few hours. You have been, all afternoon. So, either you had a hunch, then lost your nerve, or you were slacking off to make me look bad. Which is it?” Closing the folder, she slid it aside, then leaned forward to face him, fingers tipped by perfectly manicured nails painted speckled gold, steepled under her chin.
