The Paris Assignment. Addison Fox

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СКАЧАТЬ an eye on Abby in the process. Do what we do best.”

      * * *

      Abby McBane watched her key staff members file out of her office, a well of suspicion hovering in their wake.

      Was one of them responsible?

      One of these individuals—all of whom she’d known for years. People she’d worked with. Shared holidays with. Traveled and ate with.

      They’d all participated actively in their pre-press conference prep session and none seemed different. If anything, Abby knew, she was the one who seemed off, scrutinizing each and every one of them as she attempted to discern a traitor.

      She glanced at her inbox and fought to maintain a spirit of hope that had been steadfastly missing the past few weeks. Only time would tell.

      With a small sigh—one of the few she’d allow herself today—she turned back toward her email. A quick scan of her messages had her gaze alighting on a familiar name.

      Kensington Steele. College roommate and the first person who made her realize she had more to offer the world than a smiling face and her family pedigree.

      Abby clicked on the message, not surprised with the news.

      He’ll be there.

      Of course he would be. Kensington always got her man, from a series of hot and interesting boyfriends to capturing a surprising number of criminals to getting her reportedly stubborn brothers to do her bidding.

      Her friend could kick the ass of the male of their species and have each and every one of them begging for more.

      Why’d you stop taking lessons, Abby girl?

      Deleting the message and tamping firmly down on those whispers of self-doubt, Abby grabbed her tablet and flipped through her slides for the press conference. The words floated through her mind as she pictured the various inflection points, the moments she’d pause and where she’d push through the dense information.

      Her computer dinged like the final-round bell in a prize fight, signaling it was time for the meeting. She stood and smoothed her skirt, the tablet in hand and her stilettos sinking into the plush carpet as she crossed to the door.

      Time to face the music.

      Even if she had no freaking idea who was playing the tune.

      * * *

      Do what we do best.

      Kensington’s words still echoed in his ear as Campbell took a seat in the large auditorium that would house Abigail McBane’s press conference. Despite his protests to his sister, he’d arrived early and taken a seat near the front, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he took in the room.

      The turnout was considerable, a mix of press and Wall Street analyst types all anxious to hear the next big thing in communications technology.

      While he’d moderately enjoyed baiting Kenzi, he’d done his homework, just as he did for every job they took on. McBane Communications was a global leader in satellite and communications technology. The daughter of the founder, Abigail McBane was reported to be cool under pressure and a highly competent executive.

      Which meant she must be seriously running scared if she’d go outside her own security team—individuals who’d been vetted and background-checked—to come to Kensington for help.

      A light hush fell over the room as Abby and her team crossed the stage to the podium. He mentally catalogued the line of executives that walked with her—men and women clad in highly conservative business attire—before taking in the woman everyone had come to see.

      Abigail McBane.

      That same fall of dark hair he’d noticed while in Kensington’s office looked even lusher in person and high cheekbones framed her face with distinction. The V of her jacket revealed a smooth neckline displaying a simple strand of pearls. She was elegant and efficient, beautiful and businesslike.

      And when she took a spot behind the podium, Campbell briefly registered a moment of sadness that the spectacular legs on display under the severe cut of her skirt were now hidden.

      Just as well, he admonished himself. Between his unexpected resentment over the job and the quick lick of attraction that rode the back of his neck, he needed to get his head in the game.

      He glanced down at the slim tablet on his lap, flipping through a few screens of data that matched the opening of Abby’s speech. When he’d checked in, the corporate drone who’d greeted him had offered a folder of data or a secure site to download the presentation. Intrigued at the depth of preparation, he’d taken the electronic version and used the download code as his entrée into the McBane portal to do some nosing around.

      Pleased when several layers of security prevented him from digging further, he admitted their surface protocol was as impressive as he’d expected.

      “Which is why our new series of satellites, scheduled to enter orbit in the next quarter, will enable the next layer of consumer technology.” Campbell allowed his attention to drift back toward the stage. Abby deftly moved the presentation through several slides, addressing the room with a presence that was as impressive as it was sharp.

      He watched heads nod around him and caught the heated excitement of two people next to him as Abby wrapped up the presentation with the implications for the telecommunications industry. Hands flew up and questions buzzed from the floor as she moved into Q and A.

      Again, he marveled at her smooth answers as question after question flew her way. From her impressions on the implications to wireless providers to an explanation of how each satellite would orbit Earth, there was nothing she couldn’t answer. No topic she couldn’t speak to with ease.

      It was hot as hell, this incredible package of brains and beauty. Campbell felt his attention narrowing on the woman at the podium until a question from the back of the room pulled him from his thoughts.

      “Ms. McBane. There are rumors you had a recent security breach of your satellites. Could you explain what that was about?”

      The flash of anger in her eyes was brief—he’d have missed it if he weren’t watching her so closely—but it was there all the same. “We have regular maintenance on all of our systems on a daily basis. It’s routine to manage and repair any and all attempted breaches on our security, as anyone in our industry is well aware of. Hackers don’t sleep.”

      “Yes, but there’s a difference between offense and defense. Did you not recently deal defensively with a security breach of McBane Communications?”

      Campbell turned in his seat to the smug reporter in the back of the room asking the question. Whispers and murmurs echoed through the room at the man’s persistence.

      “We have reviewed all of our existing security protocols and found no breaches into or out of our systems.”

      Campbell knew the response was technically true—the mysterious seven minutes hadn’t yet been tied to any formal breach, per Kenzi’s intel—but the damage had already been done. Hands were up and people were clamoring with questions, but she drew the presentation to a close.

      “Your packets contain all СКАЧАТЬ