The smile Jessica gave me was forced. “The traffic was awful getting back from lunch.”
I took another sip of my coffee, even though it was tepid. I needed something to do with my hands because she was bending over the desk to stash her purse in her cabinet at the side of the desk. It gave me an eye full of her breasts. The gentlemanly thing to do would have been to look away. But I’d never been a gentleman.
“Did you have fun at lunch?” I asked, glancing away when she straightened. I didn’t want to get caught ogling her.
“I did. Mostly. There’s photo evidence of just how much fun on Instagram.” She brushed her fingers through her hair and then smiled at me. “I’ll have the notes you need for your three pm meeting ready in ten minutes.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
I headed into my office, leaving the door open and sat in front of my computer. For a few moments I pulled up my emails and responded to a few, but then my mind drifted back to Jessica. Her mention of Instagram intrigued me.
Before I could even contemplate how many lines I was crossing, I pulled up Instagram and searched her name. There were a few accounts that came up, but I recognized her image. I clicked on her face and her page loaded.
There were tons of photos, but I focused on the most recent.
She was with a tiny brunette in most of them, smiling, but I noticed her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The brunette caught my attention. She looked familiar. The caption said, ‘Lunch with Kyra.’
Kyra…
Who was she?
The more I looked at her, the more certain I was that I knew her. “Where does Kyra work?” I muttered to myself.
“I don’t know.”
I jumped nearly out of my seat, peering over the top of my monitor. Jessica was standing in front of my desk. I was glad she couldn’t see my screen and how much of a stalker I was being.
“She said she’s an accountant,” Jessica said.
The little wrinkle between her brows when she said that was adorable.
I glanced back at the picture.
An accountant?
Then it clicked. I smirked. Is that what they were calling themselves? Accountants? I doubted Kyra had ever seen a single spreadsheet in her life. Kyra worked at a very exclusive club. That was where I recognized her from. It was a club that catered to a specific clientele—one that indulged in sex.
Kyra was a sex worker.
I clicked out of the window, closing Instagram and losing Jessica’s image.
“Do you know her?” she asked, tipping her head curiously.
“No,” I said softly, noticing the slight hint of jealousy in her tone. I liked that it was there, but I wasn’t sure if she realized how she’d sounded. “I’ve seen her around, but we’ve never spoken.”
Her cell phone started to ring in the outer office, and she winced. “I’m sorry. I know I’m supposed to limit personal calls at work, but I need to take that call.”
“By all means.”
I wanted to tell her if she needed help I was here for her, but I said nothing. I just watched through the window that overlooked her desk as she returned to her seat, her phone pressed to her ear. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could see the tightness in her shoulders.
The phone on my desk started to ring. There were only a few people who had my direct number, so I picked it up instantly.
“Donovan Black.”
“Hey, bud, how’s it going?”