Brotherhood in Death (In Death #42)(48)

Frustration eked through the ice—which was better to her mind than hurt.

“Updating and creating an efficient work area isn’t showing off. Christ Jesus, for a woman with such professional arrogance, you’re forever worried about your idea of showing off otherwise.”

“You want to talk arrogance, pal.”

“No. I want to talk about that desk.”

“The—what?”

“Are you attached to that desk?”

“I . . .” Thrown off, she shoved at her hair, frowned at the desk. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I can’t count the manner of things wrong with it. But if you’re attached, it stays. It’s that simple. If you’re not, you might consider one of the options you’d have, such as the command center I have in mind.”

“I don’t . . . ‘command center’?”

“A wide-curved U, controls and swipe screens built in, the main D&C at the top of the curve, auxiliary on one side, disc storage, holo controls on the other. I’ll be updating some of my own in my office, and in my office with the unregistered. Technology makes leaps almost daily, and it pays to keep up with it.”

“I don’t get along very well with technology, so—”

“That would be taken into account.”

He rolled right over her. Not so icily now, she noted. He’d heated up all on his own. Maybe there was some hurt, definitely some frustration. But mostly he was deeply pissed.

“You prefer a physical board, so that remains. You’d have the option for the screen, and the screens here, as elsewhere, would be updated. We’re hardly talking about fussy window treatments and bloody divans.”

“Yeah, but—”

“We have dinner in here more often than not.” He rolled right over her again. “So it’s time we had a more pleasant area for it—likely over there. Table, chairs, part of the space, but in a more defined area. With a table that would expand when we’re invaded by half your department. Which takes us to the secondary workstations and the seating area.”

“‘Seating’?”

He gestured with his wine. “You can go on about not liking visitors in your work space, but the fact is, you often have people in here. Cops, in any case.”

“They’ll never leave if you make it all comfortable.” She rubbed at the back of her neck because, damn it, she could see some of it. And she was still hung up on the idea of a command center. “I’m used to it, that’s all, and then I come in and some redhead in boots is in here humming. And you’re: Here’s what’s going to happen.”

“I say again, nothing would have been changed, been touched without your approval. It’s not just your office, Eve, bloody hell, it’s your house.”

“That’s why I was pissed!” At wit’s end, she yanked at her hair. “It’s my house, too, and it felt like you were just taking over without telling me.”

He paused a moment, poured more wine. “There’s a point. I’ll give you that. And it’s lowered the troubling quite a bit to have you say it. I wasn’t taking over, but laying the groundwork for something you could choose. Or not. Would you like to work with Charmaine?”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I haven’t. I brought her in, and would have presented you with some completed options I felt would appeal to you. If none did, she could come up with more, or, again, not. If you liked any, but wanted changes, there’d be changes. Just as we handled the dojo. I strongly suspect if I’d said to you I wanted to have a dojo designed, particularly for you, you’d have said . . .

“Who the hell has a dojo in their house?” he demanded in a snarky American accent that surprised a laugh out of her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

“Close enough. And you should know now she’ll be working up some fresh looks for the bedroom.”

“What? What? Why? It’s nice. It’s—”

“It was designed for me, before I ever set eyes on you. Well before, come to that. Now it’ll be designed for us.”

“I’m fine with it.”

“You’ll have to be fine with any new design before anything’s done. So if you come home unexpectedly, and there’s a redhead humming in the bedroom, you’ll know why, and not react as if I’m about to shag her on our bed.”

Insulted, she jabbed a finger at him. “I didn’t react like that. If I had, there’d be a droid wearing your skin suit. Just ask Peabody because I explained it to her just today.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I spent most of today talking to adulterers. And I do want wine,” she decided, taking his. “And it put me in a mood I came home early to ditch, before I dug back into the work. And Summerset wasn’t even where he’s supposed to be so I could insult him and start the ditching.”

“I was home even earlier, and told him to go out with some of his friends.”

“Corpses don’t have friends, they have other corpses.”

His eyebrows lifted; his head angled. “Feel better?”

“Not really.”

He went to get himself a new glass of wine. “I wanted to do something for you, for the cop, and I’ll circle back here and say again, this isn’t good enough for you. Don’t argue with me on that,” he said before she could. “You’re your own cop, and as brilliant a one as I’ve ever known. You’re also mine, and this isn’t what you deserve.”