Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(19)

“You finally decided to introduce me to your mother?”

“That’s not funny.”

I love the way eye contact unnerves Leo. It’s like forcing her to remember what I am. “Or maybe you called that crackpot psychologist to come analyze me.” The waistband of her skirt gapes in this position; I yank up her shirt hem and sink a hand down to cup her buttock. Then I close my eyes and imagine the soft parting of skin, the rivulets of scarlet oil wet in my palm. My voice is all hot air soaking into her clothes. “Maybe here, next. What do you say?”

“Listen.” She presses her forehead to mine, her warm breath spilling over my cheeks. Then she takes my bottom lip between her teeth and slowly, slowly releases it. There’s no hiding the fact that she’s trembling; a common occurrence recently, as if her waking hours are one long adrenaline binge. “I’m going to fetch her in now, and I want you to promise to be nice. Or your version of nice.”

“You really did bring your mother,” I say against her mouth.

“Mmm. Not happening.” She nuzzles into my neck for a moment, colouring the air with her molten candle scent. Then she’s easing away, straightening up her pinstripe skirt, and tottering toward the door in her heels. “Just a sec,” she calls without looking back.

Since Leo’s been somewhat stressed lately, I’m going to give her the benefit of the doubt for second and pretend she hasn’t hired me a new assistant.

Let’s all take a pause. Ready?

Breathe in, grasshoppers. And out. Ahh.

Goddamn. She’s hired me a new assistant.

I could not be in a worse mood for this shit, and now I have to paste on the decent boss face because I’ve got zero time to think through my game plan. The last time I got close to a stranger, she waited until I’d formed a (frankly impressive and improbable) attachment to her, then she betrayed me. Also tried to murder me. Granted, she changed her mind post-murder attempt and she’s still filling out shirts nicely, but I can’t keep neutralizing threats just by f*cking them. This new employee had better come with a whole Louis Vuitton luggage set full of leverage, or I’m firing her ass before morning coffee.

The door slides open and Leo reappears. A tall woman strides behind her, all scraped back hair, business casual and resting bitch face, although she avoids my eyes on sight. Both women are suddenly framed by my twin screens, where NN24 and Truth Daily run on mute; flashing lights bounce over their faces like a rolling kaleidoscope. They’re running the Blood Honey update again and Truth Daily even has a flashy little logo for him in a ragged crimson font.

I haul myself up and walk around to greet the fresh meat.

“Good morning, Mr. Lore,” she says in a smooth voice, just a tone or two deeper than I expected.

I give her hand a firm shake. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”

Leo glances between us, her hands tucked firmly behind her back. The stance pushes her breasts forward, their plump outline clearly visible through her fitted shirt. “Aeron, this is Gwen Cooper. She has ten years of experience as a personal assistant at CEO level, studied management and psychology at Columbia, and thinks she can make herself useful.”

“Very useful,” Gwen adds, her brown eyes warm with amusement.

There are two options here. Either I tell her to f*ck off right this minute, or pretend that I’m completely unsurprised. Since I have no idea how big this woman’s mouth is—get your minds out of the gutter, sports fans—I’m leaning toward option two. The last thing I need right now, besides wasting time putting a new assistant through her paces, is bad press. So here goes nothing.

“You have some big shoes to fill. Come over here.” I walk back over to my desk, motioning for her to follow. “Have you seen this?”

Gwen comes to a stop beside me and blinks at the Go Fund Me page on the computer screen. “Unfortunately.”

“Good. So you know who you’re dealing with.” I give a single cough. “I mean, they forgot the part about the Illuminati, but aside from that, it’s solid work. I recognize quality journalism when I see it.”

“Of course,” she says, unsure.

“I’d like to make a donation myself, but Leo here thinks that would be a disaster.” I toss Leo a smarmy half-smile, and then simmer quietly in the wake of the scowl she shoots back. “I disagree. I want to wipe the grin off this motherf*cker’s face.”

Gwen presses her glossy lips together. “But he suggests that you use money and power to get what you want. A donation would be exactly that.”

“Absolutely. But all in the name of charity.” I drop back into my chair and scoot forward to type. “Nobody can argue with charity, Gwen. Now. I was thinking I’d double the current fund, nothing too extravagant. What do you girls say?”

Leo rolls her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

“Gwen?” I twist around to look at her, one brow arched with irrepressible curiosity.

The two women exchange glances; Leo is sardonic, Gwen slightly desperate. This is more fun than I anticipated.

“I think conscience is an abstract theory,” she says finally, “and you can no more lose one than you can have one in the first place.”

“Exactly.” I bash at the keys as if my fingers contain springing coils. “There. It’s not even ten a.m., and I’ve already given twelve grand to medical science.”