Page 70

MARISELA

“ D id you figure it out?” I shot my glare at the kid sitting in my office chair, his dark shaggy hair pressed behind his ear by one of those hands-free devices while his fingers clicked away at my keyboard. The sound loud and annoying when it wasn’t coming from me.

It took a moment for his bright-green eyes to flick in my direction, landing on my scowl before flicking up to my face again. Fucker better keep it in his pants if he doesn’t want one of my heels shoved up his ass.

“I’m sorry… Did you say something?”

Hard to hear when you’re too busy staring at my mouth, huh? Then again, that was why I preferred red. Men weren’t exactly bulls but they were easily distracted by shiny objects. And today, I was that object. I needed to be if I wanted anyone to pay attention to me in that boardroom.

I huffed my annoyance, my heels clanking across the floor as I paced back and forth in front of him. “ I said did you figure it out?”

“No, sorry, ma’am. Whoever’s on the other end of this, they’re good. Like tech-genius level good. Each of these correspondences is being diverted and filtered through another IP address. We can’t track it or keep the emails from coming—unless you want me to block all senders outside the server…?”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning all emails would be internal…” he explained, and I lifted a questioning brow. “Employees only, basically. But even then, if someone knows what they’re doing, they can spoof the domain name…”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t matter. Seventy-five percent of what I do is outsourcing. It’s not feasible anyway.”

“Sorry I can’t do more, Miss Cruz.” The kid sighed.

“Mrs. Prescott.” I eyed him for a moment before gesturing a hand in his direction. He was pretty. A little too pretty for a computer nerd. “Who are you again? What’s your name?”

He grinned, one side of his mouth punctuated by a dimple. “Elliot Walker, ma’am. Your husband brought me on last week. Guess they’re still working on my name tag.” He chuckled.

“Right, well, you can remove yourself from my seat now, can’t you.” It wasn’t a request. I didn’t pretend that it was either.

“Ah, yeah, sorry.” That dimple sank deeper as Elliot pushed himself up from my chair and maneuvered around my desk, rubbing at the back of his neck and drawing my attention to the way his muscles pulled the material of his dress shirt taut.

It wasn’t unusual for Tate to hire someone based on their looks.

But it was unusual for that someone to be male.

“Just, ah, let me know if you need anything else,” he added while peering at me over a shoulder.

“Sure.” It was one word but it might as well have been two. Fuck you.

I huffed again, listening to my office door click closed before lowering myself back in my seat.

My anger was misplaced. I knew that. It wasn’t the kid’s fault.

It was Adrian’s. And whoever he had on his payroll, because I knew this shit wasn’t him.

Dr. Lambert liked his antiquities— tech had never really been his thing.

I scooted myself closer to my desk and glanced down. His latest email taunting me from my computer screen.

Little Lamb,

You can’t ignore me forever. We’re family after all. Bound by blood. And so much more.

Yours,

AL

I’d spent years trying to ignore him, even when he was in the same room with me.

Years avoiding him and refusing to give in.

And maybe that was just what he wanted. Maybe he wanted the chase.

Maybe he needed something to fantasize over.

Maybe indulging him would be enough. And maybe responding was what we both needed to move on .

I flexed my fingers before brushing them over my keyboard. Typing out a curt reply that I had no doubt I would regret at the same time I did nothing to stop myself.

Mr. Lambert,

Seeing as the tech department has informed me that it’s impossible for them to block an encrypted IP address, I would appreciate it if you would refrain from using such vulgar language in your correspondences.

Sincerely,

Marisela Cruz-Prescott

A new email landed in my inbox almost immediately.

Dr. Lambert… if you insist on formalities, Ms. Cruz. As for vulgar, we both know it doesn’t matter how prim and proper you try to act… you’ll always be my dirty little slut underneath it all. I bet you’re touching yourself right now as you’re reading this. Are you wet for me, princesa?

Yours,

AL

“You have got to be kidding me…” I cursed under my breath, too irritated to consider the ramifications before slamming down on the keys again and quickly pressing send .

Dr. Lambert,

I would never dream of doing such a thing in the office. One of us is a professional. One of us also has access to a rather large and litigious legal department.

Sincerely,

Marisela Cruz-Prescott

It was an idle threat. And we both knew it. The burden of proof would be on me and I had nothing that actually proved Adrian was on the other end of the screen. And neither did our IT department apparently.

My dearest Marisela,

Please don’t threaten me with a good time.

Actually, I take that back. Please do. I’d love to see you all dolled up and sitting across from me in one of those tight-fitting skirts you like to wear.

A team of lawyers at your beck and call while you hurled every accusation in the book in my direction before I cleared the room and fucked you in the middle of the conference table.

Just tell me where and when, little lamb.

Yours,

AL

Fucking hell!

Nowhere and never .

No address or sign-off. Short and sweet. Anything more and I would be tossing my computer across my desk just to watch it shatter.

Always and forever.

Yours,

AL