Page 32 of Only the Wicked (The Sinful State #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Rhodes

My skin itches and my fingers twitch. I’m jittery. Irritated.

I pace the suite. Perhaps I need music. The only sound in the suite is the low steady thrum of a rainfall shower.

I grab my phone, intent on locating my Spotify account, and see a message notification. That works too.

I click to read.

Alex

Met with Avent Capital. They want us. BAD.

Two clicks. No need for voice dictation on this one.

Me

No

Better off private

Of course those blood suckers want us to go public. It’s the best way to fleece us. And we don’t need them. Aside from that, we have no business letting profit and growth drive business decisions. Private is the only ethical option. If I get my way, we’ll transition back to nonprofit.

Why is Alex still circling a public offering? We don’t require a capital infusion.

I hit the microphone and say, “Ethics, Alex. Come on. The power of AI isn’t something to underestimate. Profit cannot guide decisions. If we went public, growth would become the driving criteria. It’s too dangerous. Irresponsible. You know this. Absolutely not.”

I skim to ensure nothing’s too outrageously misinterpreted and hit send.

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so much empathy toward weapons designers. I’m not in the defense industry, but I feel for those engineers. I haven’t sacrificed and dedicated everything to ARGUS for it to become a worldwide menace. I’m better than that.

The shower stream ends.

I click over to my chain with Daisy.

Me: Anything?

Daisy Jonas

A little something

My gaze cuts to the bathroom door, which will likely open any minute. I don’t know what I’m expecting—or why I’m still on edge. The sex should have burned through the worst of it, but my pulse is still elevated.

Syd’s fantastic. That’s the problem.

She has a history. Made a questionable choice. But the way she responded when I pressed her—no defensiveness, offered the FBI agent’s business card without hesitation. She’s not hiding anything. Right?

Christ. Maybe Daisy’s right. Maybe I just took my suspicions out on her because I’m terrified of what I’m feeling.

Freaking out because in my gut I know I’m going to ask her to fly back with me to San Francisco, and then I’ll ask her to move in with me, and then seven years will pass and I’ll be planning another engagement party.

The thought should scare me. Instead, it makes me want to lock the bathroom door and keep her here.

Why hasn’t Daisy responded?

Me

***

Daisy Jonas

Details incoming. Busted cover. Brought back stateside for her safety. Operative career over. Just like that.

Me

Source?

ARGUS can’t access case files.

Me

What did you hack?

The fucking Pentagon?

Daisy Jonas

Friend of a friend

Of course. You can have the most secure site in the world, but there’s always the human risk factor.

The bathroom door opens, and I slip my phone into my back pocket.

I’m standing a few feet away from the threshold, probably looking like I’ve been pacing, waiting for her, which I have.

“Are you ready to talk?”

“Yes.”

She’s changed from the outfit I purchased into loose jeans and a green crochet sweater tank. Droplets drip from her hair. Flush from the steaming-hot water, her skin is opulent.

We stand there, staring at each other as if in a standoff. Tension exists, yes, but there’s more going on between us than lust or irritation. Questions lurk.

We’re compatible. There’s no question. But can we trust each other?

She breaks the tension with a miniscule huff, tucks her chin, and steps past me to the sofa.

“Are you having me watched?”

She puts the question out there with the weight of a judge’s gavel. Then she sits—on the same sofa where we just fucked. Her skirt and blouse remain on the floor.

Well, let’s do this.

“I wasn’t,” I answer honestly. “My security team saw you.”

“You have security in the hotel? Now?”

“Prudent.” It’s the word Daniel, my head of security, repeats, so I throw the word back at her.

She didn’t ask me why.

“You Googled me.”

She doesn’t confirm nor deny.

What do I really fear? It’s not a long-term relationship. It’s that I’m being used. Deep down, I always suspected Sara stayed with me for the financial benefits. Why did Sydney come with me to D.C.?

“Did you know who I was when we met on the trail?”

I lift an eyebrow, meant as a warning to her not to lie to me.

She closes her eyes.

Holy shit.

I sink into the cushion near her, shift to pull out my phone, scan my messages, locate the photo security sent, and set it on the sofa between us.

She opens those doe eyes and I point at the evidence between us.

“Agent Gregory,” I say. “What did he want?”

Her gaze falls to her hands cradled in her lap.

“Are you with the FBI?”

That gets her attention.

“No.” She looks directly at me, hands still.

She’s telling the truth.

But she didn’t deny knowing me before we met. Was she playing me, wanting to get close to a wealthy guy? Or did someone else put her up to it? Did someone hire a former CIA…

“Are you working for someone?”

I’ll uncover the truth, one way or another. But there’s no way to verbalize that reality without it coming across as threatening.

“Why did you meet with Russia today?” Her question hits hard with a force straight to the solar plexus.

“ You were watching me ?”

How? She was here at the hotel. I have photographic evidence. Unless…she’s not working alone. That’s it. Someone hired her.

Fuck me.

“As part of my job I meet with representatives from different countries. Who are you working for that that information is relevant?”

“What are you selling them?”

Yes. Definitely working for someone.

“The rumors are unfounded,” I answer, looking her directly in the eye so she can see the truth.

She’s working with one of the intelligence agencies. It’s the only answer. If it’s not the FBI, the NSA? Those guys are slippery.

“Is that why you’re here? Investigating unfounded rumors?”

“What rumors?”

“This is going to be a painful conversation if you keep playing this game.” She has to see the gig is up. She might as well play it straight.

“You’re not exactly being forthcoming,” she responds, chin lifted, fucking defiant.

Look at that audacity. Unbelievable.

“Rumors are I’m selling information to the highest bidder.

Any information that can be used for blackmail.

It’s an unfounded rumor and it is false.

ARGUS is an AI surveillance tool. It takes existing data and derives information from it.

Any information ARGUS provides, a client already owns.

I don’t do under-the-table side deals. Never have. Never will.”

She doesn’t look away. Perhaps she believes me.

“Who are you working for? NSA?”

If it’s NSA, I’m going to have words with my contact. I didn’t sit through endless meetings only to be monitored.

“Why did you meet with Russia?”

“How can you expect me to answer your questions without knowing who I’m talking to?”

She sucks in her lower lip, contemplating before answering.

“Let me ask you this, which is perhaps the most important question. Was anything between us real? Or is the US government now readily employing Russian tactics and sending honeypots to targets?”

Her mouth opens into an O and her cheeks flush a brighter red. That got her attention.

“I genuinely like you.”

Lovely . I push up off the sofa and scrub my fingers through the short hair on the back of my head, pacing the floor.

“You’re a fucking honeypot? You fucked me to get information?”

“No.” She jumps up and grabs my hands. “No! Not true. If you remember, I said I had my period. It was never supposed to?—”

I throw her hands off mine. “You weren’t supposed to, but then you said what the hell?”

“It’s not like that.”

Her eyes go glassy and my restraint snaps. “Oh, hell no. You sleep with me for what…what exactly were you hoping to get?” One lone tear spills over. “And now you’re going to cry? And I’m supposed to say, ‘Oh, it’s all okay’? Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“No!” She stomps her right foot and folds her arms below her breasts. “It wasn’t… I’m not with the NSA. I work for a private group. Everything I told you is true. Everything. I’ve kept it as real with you as possible.”

“Except the real reason I met you on that trail. You weren’t on holiday.

You were working. And I was your target.

” I tilt my head. “Since you obviously know everything about me, you also know I’m familiar with intelligence agencies.

I’m familiar with their tactics. Who’s behind this?

Who sent you…” I pace the room, back and forth.

I’m so fucking livid I can’t speak. I glare at the lamp, stifling the desire to rip it out of the socket and hurl it against the wall.

“Jesus, I’m such an idiot. I actually thought I lucked into meeting someone pretty amazing.” Every kiss was a lie. Every vulnerable moment, a calculated move in her wicked game. And I fell for it completely.

“Stop it!” A vein bulges in her forehead and her hands ball into fists at her sides. “I’ll tell you everything! Just listen, okay?”

There’s no way I can sit, so I pace.

“I work for a newly formed group called KOAN. The goal is to watch those with significant power and influence. Those who might be tempted to believe they’re above the law.”

“And because of the rumors, it was deemed I fit the bill?”

“You’re a billionaire?—”

“On paper, I’m a billionaire. Unless I cash out, it’s mostly paper, you get that right?”

She tilts her head, calling my bluff.

“Yes, I’m wealthy. I sold a business. But I’m not one of the big-time billionaires.” Even as I say it, the qualification sounds ridiculous, but that doesn’t matter at all. My wealth doesn’t give anyone the right to target me. What the actual living fuck?

“Will you listen?”

The plea in her tone does little to calm me down, but once again, I nod.

“All they wanted was to know is if the rumors were true. Because if they were, there would be a significant risk to national security.”

What she’s not saying is that someone out there fears the current administration and Congress is indebted to me thanks to sizable campaign contributions.

And the fear is logical. I donate heavily to ensure legislation permits my business’s existence.

Too many are desperate to control AI with legislation, and those writing said legislation understand technology about as well as Nana.

“I only took the job because for me, it’s personal.”

I side eye her, remembering what Daisy said about her career being blown.

Someone leaked her identity. I place pressure on the bridge of my nose.

She believes the worst possible version of me, the most evil version, which means she didn’t use her time with me to get to know me at all.

Meanwhile, only someone truly wicked could have played such a perfect role.

“I’m not a bastard. I have a conscience. There’s no risk to national security.”

Of course, if we do as Russia wants…but that’s not her business. Or her employer’s.

The irony isn’t lost on me. She’s been investigating whether I’m a threat to national security while I’ve been falling for a woman who was never real. At least not with me. Every laugh, every touch, every moment I thought we were connecting—she was working. Gathering intelligence. Playing a role.

And I’m supposed to believe her ‘personal’ motivation makes this better somehow.

“Did you get the information you need? Are we done?”