Page 38 of This Could Be Us

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Page 38 of This Could Be Us

She looks up, her eyes liquid and dark, her face a landscape of lush lips and heavy lashes. The deep waves of her amber-streaked hair pile into a messy bun, soft curls escaping at the edges of her hairline and neck. Her slim-fitting jeans, ballet flats, silk T-shirt, and long camel-colored cashmere coat make her look delicate and expensive.

But there’s desperation in the way she clutches her purse strap, in the wide eyes ringed with fear. Signs of strain peek out from beneath her carefully crafted composure.

“I told her you have a meeting in a few minutes,” says my assistant, Perri, impatience in her tone and the press of her lips. “She insisted that—”

“It’s okay, P,” I tell her, not looking away,unableto look away from the sober expression on Soledad’s face.

“I just need a few minutes,” Soledad says, her voice hoarse and scraped over. “I won’t take much of your time.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” Perri says. “He doesn’t have a few minutes. He has a meeting. You can’t just come in here and—”

“Cancel it.” I swing a glance at Perri to shut her protests down. “The meeting. Cancel it.”

I’m the only Black director at Callahan, the first to ever serve as director of accounting. As one of the few other Black employees on thisfloor, Perri is always careful to present herself professionally. Full face of makeup, stylish wardrobe with coordinating hijabs. Prompt, efficient, thorough. She takes pride not only in her position, but in mine. It makes her very protective.

Eyeing Soledad with some suspicion, she asks politely, “Could I get you something to drink, then? Water or tea? Soda?”

“No, but thank you.” Soledad offers a small smile and stands, tipping her head back to meet my eyes. “I didn’t mean to disrupt your day.”

Perri sucks her teeth, and I catch her eye with a quelling glance.

“I just…” Soledad licks her lips and expels a short breath. “You said if I came across anything that might help to—”

“Of course,” I cut in, eager to gain some much-needed ground on this case. “Let’s talk.”

I set my hand at the small of her back to guide her into my office, needing to get her away from possible prying eyes. She is slim and tight under my touch. A fresh scent wafts up to me. Shampoo? Perfume? She smells like flowers in full bloom under the sun. Fresh and alluring. I draw in a deep breath and play back Dick’s words about being taken in by a pretty smile. That sobers me, and I drop my hand from her, nodding to one of the chairs in my office.

“Have a seat,” I tell her, and perch on the edge of my desk.

“It was only after I got here,” she says, sitting and glancing down to the hands clenched in her lap, “that I remembered you saying it was a risk for you to come see me. I guess it’s a risk for me to come see you too, huh? I’m sorry. I should have…”

She grimaces, her throat bobbing with a deep swallow. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I hope me coming here doesn’t—”

“It’s fine. Did you think of anything?”

“I may have found something, yeah.” She opens her palm to reveal a small silver jump drive. It’s only then I notice the white bandage on her other hand.

I reach for the bandaged hand and turn it over. “How’d this happen?”

She pulls away and lets the injured hand fall in her lap.

“It’s nothing. Did you not notice what’s in myotherhand?” Amusement caresses her voice, and a small smile touches her full lips.

I reach for the jump drive, but she closes her hand and pulls it behind her back. “I think it has information you need, but there are thingsIneed first.”

I lift my brows and cross my arms over my chest.

“If that’s evidence for the case, I can get the FBI to retrieve it.”

“And I can conveniently forget we even had this conversation and lie very convincingly to anyone who asks me about it, but then neither of us would get what we want, would we?”

I can’t help but smile. There’s a shark under all those curls and cashmere.

“I like getting what I want,” I tell her, hoping that didn’t sound as suggestive as I think it did.

“So do I,” she replies without missing a beat. “And what I want is to keep my house, my accounts unfrozen, my cards reactivated, and for this company to leave me and my girls alone.”

“I want that too, believe it or not. I also want the six million dollars your husband stole. Do you think what’s on that drive could help us both?”




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