She held up her palm and stood. Though really, that didn’t give her much more to work with since he had to be at least six feet tall and easily towered over her. “Let’s not waste time, Mr. Muroya. I could go into how I weeded out that information, but we’d end up at the same conclusion and I’d rather get to the point.”
His jaw was hard now, his dark eyes flinty. “Are you a reporter?”
“What?” She blinked, thrown off by the question and the dose of disgust in his voice. “No. I’m . . .”
She didn’t finish the sentence, and he stared at her expectantly.
God. She didn’t want to say it. Not to him. Not to anyone.
“You’re what?” he demanded.
If internal organs could cringe, hers did. “I’m a member.”
The tightness in his jaw went slack at that. “Of Hayven?”
She adjusted her glasses and used that as a reason to look away and toward the hall. She’d never told anyone about the game. No one knew that secret shame, the things she did in that world, the fantasies she played out. How she pretended to be someone else entirely. How she had cyber/phone sex with a stranger. Heat burned up her neck. “Could we do this in your office? I’d rather not discuss everything out here.”
He seemed to snap out of his stupor at that. “Oh. Of course. Right this way.”
He turned and his fingertips landed gently on her upper arm to guide her. The move was polite, not at all aggressive, but he may as well have had electrodes taped to his fingers for the current it sent radiating through her. She had to breathe through the reaction.
Must. Focus.
He led her into a spacious corner office, complete with wraparound windows and what looked to be authentic mid-century-modern furniture. His desk was in the center—simple and clean—with only a laptop. But against the left wall was an impressive workstation with three oversized monitors and a number of gadgets. That area wasn’t so Zen. There were sticky notes everywhere and pads of paper stacked haphazardly. On the wall were pinned sheets of papers—drawings. She wanted to step closer and examine them, but she wasn’t here for a tour.
He ushered her into the chair across from his desk and then took a seat on the other side. His gaze met hers, expression focused but impossible to read. “So, let’s start over. You’re not a reporter.”
“No.”
“You’re a member who has somehow figured out that I’m the one in charge, and you’ve had some problem with the game.”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward on his forearms, the little move somehow creating an intimate just-between-me-and-you vibe. “Okay, well, I’m always happy to help a customer. But to be honest, if you’re looking for tech support, I’m not your guy. My skills lie elsewhere.”
He didn’t say the last part in any particular way, but her brain twisted the words and dumped a big sprinkle of sexual innuendo on them. She’d seen some of those skills last night. She’d seen the way those hands he had folded on the desk gripped a woman’s hair in passion. She’d heard how his voice sounded when he commanded a woman to take his cock.
Cora gripped the arm of the chair hard, trying to get ahold of the spiraling thoughts, and took a steadying breath. Just the facts, Cora. Focus on that. “This isn’t a little tech support issue, Mr. Muroya. You’ve had a major security breach, and all of your members are at risk until you fix it.”
The frown was instant, the casual posture gone. “What?”
She straightened in her chair, professional mode kicking in. “I’m not sure what you have in the way of an IT Security department here, but they’re sleeping on the job. The admin address has been hacked, and someone is sending emails out to your members with personal information of other members.”
His entire demeanor shifted. His forehead creased, jaw flexing, and anger flashed in his gaze. “You’re sure of this.”
Not a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes.”
“How?”
She unzipped her bag and pulled out the email. She’d taken a permanent marker to the places where the name Lenore was mentioned, but she’d left the rest untouched. She set it on his desk. “This was sent from the main email address to someone I’d blocked in the game. My personal information was included and then whoever sent it got creative with the rest. Rape fantasy being a theme.”
Ren picked up the sheet, his eyes scanning it, his expression darkening as he went. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No. And the man they sent the email to was local and took it literally. When I got home from the party last night, he was waiting for me outside my house.”
Ren’s head snapped up.
Cora swallowed, some of the anxiety from last night trying to bubble up again. “He grabbed me, thinking I was up for some kind of force fantasy, but my neighbors heard the scuffle and intervened. He ran off when the cops showed up.”