A Dom is Forever (Masters and Mercenaries #3)(97)

“Are you going to get some coffee or just stare at the mug?"

Avery jumped at the masculine voice. She turned to see Simon Weston standing in the doorway, looking cool and collected in his perfectly pressed suit. He didn’t have a problem with the spy stuff, but then he was a real live spy. She was surrounded by them all of the sudden.

He looked around the small break room. It was empty, but he still kept his voice low. “Calm down, Avery.”

Yeah, she was trying. She’d been told that Simon had been filled in by his boss, Damon Knight, and would be her MI6 contact. After today, Liam was just a bodyguard if he hung around at all.

I’m not going anywhere, Avery. So stop thinking that I am. I won’t leave you alone. Not ever.

He’d whispered the words in her ear as he stood beside her on the Tube, the heavy traffic shoving them together, pressing them until they were nestled like puzzle pieces.

How long would it be before she would stop feeling his hands on her body?

She shook off the thought and grabbed the coffeepot only to have it clatter and shake. Simon cursed and took it from her.

“You’re going to get us all killed if you don’t stop,” he whispered. He poured out a mug of French roast. “It’s a normal day, just like any other. When the boss goes out, you go in and find those files. The minute I have them in hand, you’re out of this. It’s very simple, sweetheart.”

She nodded, but there was nothing simple about any of this. Liam was somewhere in the city getting ready to follow a man who was an acknowledged murderer. He was going to follow him and quietly take him down, very likely with lethal force. She’d been sleeping with a killer, and all she could do was pray that he came out of this okay. She wouldn’t be able to take a real breath until she knew he was all right. But she wasn’t going to let him know it.

“I don’t think you should start doing the new reports without me.” His voice changed, abruptly going back to the smooth tones he always used.

“Morning, people.” One of the women from fund-raising walked in with a cheery expression on her face. Janet. Avery was almost certain that was her name and that she had two small children. Was she in on Molina’s plans? Was everyone in on it? Would they all be watching her?

Simon gave her a little nod. “Morning to you. I was just telling Avery here that we’re all going to be able to relax once she and the big boss move on.”

Janet sighed. “Oh, how I long for the days of three hour lunches and Ping-Pong battles. And poor Avery is going to have to settle for the drudgery of Dubai. I feel for you, darling. I really do. All that sand and sun and wealth.”

It had seemed like an adventure before, but now she wondered.

Janet grabbed a pot and started heating water for tea as she continued on. “I wish I’d known the boss was looking for an assistant. I would have applied for that job. Not that I could have known. I’ve been working for the UOF for almost ten years, and this is the first time I’ve ever seen the man in person. Didn’t see him much in pictures, either, now that I think about it. The rumor was always that he was a shut-in. You know? One of those people who doesn’t go out because they can’t stand the openness of the outside. What are they called? There’s a word for it.”

“Agoraphobia,” Avery replied.

Janet snapped her fingers. “That’s it. I guess it was just one of those rumors though because he told me the other day that I had to wait on the lift because he couldn’t stand cramped spaces. I thought it a bit rude that he required the whole lift for himself and that goon driver of his.” She shrugged. “Guess the rich really are different. I don’t know. Why don’t we ask Mr. Second in Line for the Throne or something?”

Simon rolled his eyes. “I’m not second in line for the bloody throne, love. I’m like twenty-third or something.”

Simon and Janet were off poking at each other, but Avery was thinking. Not once in the months she’d been with Thomas had he had a problem with being outside. Janet had to be wrong, or the rumors were. Just how much did she really know about her boss? When she’d first come to work for him she hadn’t really looked into his background. She’d been too happy to have the job, and he was a philanthropist. In her mind, that had to mean he was a good person.

How many secrets did he have?

“Avery? You coming along?” Simon stood at the door, a mug in his hand.

She forced herself back into the present. “Of course.”

“And don’t forget about what we talked about.” Simon turned and started toward his part of the building.

What had they talked about? Reports. She wasn’t doing any new reports. She set her coffee mug on her desk and settled in. She could hear Thomas in his office talking quietly to someone. Her computer was right there with all its Internet connections and links to anything she could want to know.

She couldn’t help herself. She pulled up her browser and put Thomas’s name in it. It was innocent enough. She was his assistant. If she got caught, she could say she was just looking for news articles that highlighted his philanthropy for the ball. There were plenty of UOF promo materials to be made.

But she skipped anything recent, preferring to go deep. There were numerous articles about Thomas Molina and the foundation. He was raised wealthy, but a horseback riding accident left him with weakened limbs and struggling to walk. She knew that story all too well. There were several articles that claimed the multimillionaire philanthropist was a hardcore agoraphobic. One article on a financial website claimed that before he’d started this tour, no one had seen Thomas Molina in person for years with the singular exception of his brother. He’d lived in a small guesthouse on the ground of the mansion he’d inherited. He ran his empire from his computer and rarely took phone calls.