Nights In Black Leather. Noelle Mack

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СКАЧАТЬ I’ll straighten it all out.” He tossed it back in the box, then spotted something else. “Now these are quite interesting.” He took out something that looked like wraparound sunglasses, except that the lenses were covered.

      “What’s that?”

      “Prototype goggles. For a video game immersion experience. Still in development. I’m supposed to get the market-ready ones soon.”

      “Oh. I’d like to try them. I’ve never played a virtual reality game.”

      “They can be fun for a little while,” he said with a shrug. “But it can be a weird experience. Not for everyone.”

      Adam pulled over a wireless keyboard and tapped a key. A long line of e-mail messages appeared. Lara tried not to look, but did anyway.

      Penelope? Have you gone shopping? Come out, come out, wherever you are.

      A message shot back. Fuck off. (Sir.)

      He laughed at that and typed again. Some coffee, please. “How do you like yours, Lara?”

      “Black, thanks.”

      “Very good.” Two black coffees, Penelope, he typed. Thanks. After that you can leave for the day.

      “Is she…online somewhere?”

      “I hope so. Otherwise I might be communing with her avatar. Which means I will have wasted thirty seconds of my incredibly valuable time.”

      At the rate at which he made money, thirty seconds probably amounted to, oh, a thousand dollars. But he’d said in a self-deprecating tone that boded well for future interpersonal interaction.

      “Would you like to see Penelope’s avatar?” he asked.

      “Uh…” Lara hesitated. “Won’t she mind?”

      “Not at all. It’s not a secret. She has it tattooed on her back.”

      Where Adam had just happened to see it? Lara didn’t want to say that. She watched Adam scroll down through a Find list of Penelope’s e-mails and stop on one with an attachment.

      “Here it is.” He clicked and a finely detailed dragon unrolled itself on the screen, lashing its tail. “Penelope’s dragon. What do you think?”

      “I’m surprised you feel comfortable asking her to get coffee,” Lara said.

      Adam only chuckled. “Oh, we’re good friends and I would do the same for her. It’s Mrs. Howlett who’s the problem.”

      Lara raised her eyebrows.

      “The tea lady. Mrs. Howlett is a female to be reckoned with,” he said. “And an old-school Marxist. I gave her a paid holiday to Malta last Christmas and she told me I was a right stingy bastard and a Tory sod into the bargain.”

      Lara didn’t know what to say to that. She was not quite sure what a Tory was, but she thought it might be something like a Republican.

      “But she went anyway. Beige raincoat, crepe-soled shoes, dog-eared translation of the Communist Manifesto and all. She’s a terror. I do enjoy her.” Adam smiled fondly. “She gave me that snap.” He pointed to a small framed photograph.

      Lara peered at it. Mrs. Howlett was standing on a lookout point, the Mediterranean sparkling in the background. She looked happy enough—and was that a hammer and sickle embroidered on her straw handbag? Looked like it.

      You had to like a guy who was nice to old ladies when he didn’t have to be. Adam had a sense of humor, and he didn’t seem to take himself too seriously.

      But he was still masterful as all get out. She was up for that. In her opinion, a big, dominant man should get to explore the possibilities of being a big, dominant man. Who, when the sex was over, then went back to being an actual human being, who showed her every consideration and pampered her endlessly and was slavishly attentive to all her emotional and physical needs. And was nice to her dog.

      Her late dog. Who is hiding bones in heavenly clouds, she reminded herself. You’re on your own in London and this could be the no-holds-barred sexual encounter of a lifetime. You don’t have to overthink it. If he wants to, go for it.

      Yeah. There could be other women in line. Such as Penelope. Lara wondered his assistant looked like. Not dragonish—Lara had a funny feeling about that.

      A little while later, Lara found out that Penelope was Chinese, with an elegant English accent. Adam and his assistant exchanged murmurs that sounded both intimate and friendly to Lara’s ears. Like the woman Lara had seen in the lobby, Penelope was dressed in edgy designer clothes that were nothing short of fabulous. Her waist-length hair was an ebony waterfall that swung rhythmically as she entered with two paper cups of coffee. Her doe eyes looked at Lara with a measure of friendliness.

      “Thanks again,” Adam said, taking them from her and handing one to Lara. “What do I owe you?”

      “You’re welcome,” Penelope said. A cool smile curved her full lips. “The rest of the day off will make up for coffee-fetching.”

      Lara cringed, feeling very fluffy indeed.

      “Oh, I didn’t introduce you two. Sorry,” Adam said absently, glancing from one woman to the other. “Lara Bowlin, this is Penelope Song. Penelope, this is Lara.”

      “H-hello,” Lara said, feeling awkward. She hoped she wouldn’t spill the damn coffee. She’d fetched countless cups for Jason and she knew how that’d made her feel. Very low on the totem pole.

      “Hello,” Penelope said. She crumpled the paper bag the coffee came in and tossed it into a wastebasket on the other side of the room.

      Slam dunk. Lara felt more inadequate than ever. She held onto the cup, which radiated heat and the reassuring vibration of a megadose of caffeine.

      “Sloane Street, here I come,” Penelope said cheerfully as she sauntered out.

      “Enjoy yourself,” Adam called. “See you tomorrow. Or tonight.”

      Lara breathed a sigh of relief and peered at the screens Adam pulled up. Graphs. Charts. Zig-zagging lines. Moneymoney-money…how did that song go? She didn’t remember.

      Adam’s nearness was confusing her. Her wild and crazy fantasy in the elevator lingered at the edge of her mind.

      His muscular legs were spread far apart and that was some package in between them. Preoccupied, he moved his focus between one monitor and another, obviously doing mental calculations.

      Sheesh. She couldn’t very well spy on him if he didn’t write anything down.

      The cursor moved seemingly of its own free will. Highlight, copy, cut and paste. Documents filled the screens and quickly disappeared into folders.

      The flow of information was processed almost instantaneously. He was in charge of his kingdom, moving fortunes around the way some people played cards online. Hmm. He could take charge of her any time. Any time at all. Lara pressed her knees together. Her thong panties were getting damp again. Damp and hot.

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