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“No need to apologise.” Lee smiles. “Harvey’s just here to pick up the boss and I can go into another room, if you’d like?”
“No, no.” She smiles nervously. “I’m just going to do some meal prep for the week. I can work around you.” When she reaches for a pot on top of the cabinets, there’s no chance she would ever be able to reach, Lee steps in, easily lifting it and handing it over to her. Her blush is cute, and his smile is adoring. Christ. Everyone’s making gooey eyes at each other nowadays.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, there’s a message I haven’t seen from the captain and a new one from Den.
CAPTAIN:Any leads yet? Update me when you can.
I look up checking that Lee and Guinevere can’t see my phone and I type out a quick reply.
ME:Nothing yet. She doesn’t exactly trust me with all her dirty secrets. I’ll give you anything as soon as I have it.
I come out of the conversation and check the message from Den.
DEN:Don’t forget to order your martini shaken, not stirred.
I smile at my phone.
ME:I’m working, not drinking tonight.
DEN:Shame. Have a good night anyway mate. See you later.
ME:See you later.
I smile again as I put my phone back in my pocket and think how nice Den is and feeling a little put out that I haven’t heard anything from any of my cop friends since I left the department. Those thoughts are quickly drowned out by the image of Annika walking through to the kitchen.
“Oh, Miss Wolfe.” Guinevere clasps her hands over her chest and gives a full and gorgeous smile at her boss while Lee stands with his brows in his hairline and his jaw past his shoulders. “You look beautiful.”
That’s an understatement. She is a fucking vision. Her dress is a deep emerald colour in luxurious soft satin. There are no straps, so her creamy shoulders are on full display, the fabric curving over the swell of her breasts that spill slightly over the top. It hugs her body all the way to her hips where it then hangs loose to the floor. There’s a slit that goes scandalously high to her thigh, showing her ridiculously long leg, smooth skin and shapely calves. Her shoes are just straps covered in what look like diamonds, her bright red painted toes standing out. Her fingernails match and her lips are painted the same fire engine red. The jewellery she wears is elegant and full of sparkle and herblonde hair is pinned up, low on the back of her neck and slightly to one side.
She doesn’t thank Guinevere with words, instead she nods in acknowledgement and looks distinctly uncomfortable with the compliment. Her eyes find mine and she gives me a slow and assessing once over, dragging her eyes over the length of my body and I swear I feel it as though she were touching me. When she meets my stare again, her eyebrow raises and her lips purse slightly. I suddenly feel like a dress up doll, worrying that I’m not pretty enough to be seen on her arm. I clear my throat and look down my body, taking in the nicest suit I’ve ever worn and the shiny black shoes on my feet.
“It’s what your girl picked out for me so— ”
“You don’t look like a cop,” she says thoughtfully. When I look back at her, one side of her mouth is tipped up in amusement.
“I know,” I say holding my hands out. “I look like James Bond.”
She tries for that pout again, but her smile is fighting to break free. God I want to see it win out. “Let’s not get carried away.” She smooths her palms down her dress, straightening out imaginary creases, and I wonder if I should tell her how unbelievably stunning she looks. Nothing I come up within my head sounds appropriate, but before I can think of anything she looks at me expectantly. “Dooley is here so we can go now.” She sets off toward the front door and I follow her like a good little dog.
“Dooley?”
“Our driver.”
“I’m not driving?”
“Obviously not, Dooley is.” I can hear her rolling her eyes even though I can’t see it as I walk behind her. “Dooley is my driver for events or if I need to travel without a guard dog.” She gives me a distasteful side eye.
Her obvious dislike for me is becoming more amusing than insulting. “You can’t drive,rainha?”
She takes in a deep breath and pushes it out through her nose. “Of course, I can drive. But I have enough money that I don’thaveto,detective.”
We step out of the door and a black Bentley waits for us. The driver is dressed as a traditional chauffeur, hat and all, stood by the driver’s door and I can’t hide my surprise. He’s…ancient. He must be about eighty, tall and thin with papery skin, and large glasses that magnify his eyes comically. Should he even be driving?
“Dooley, this is Javier. Javier, this is Dooley.”
“Javier, sir.” Dooley holds his hand out to me and I shake it.
“Please, call me Harvey and no sir necessary. That goes for you too,” I say to Annika.”
