Page 27 of One More Night
TEN
Jordan
The call from Chase leaves me somewhat hopeful. So she wants to see me? This could be interesting.
I have to assume that she had her ass handed to her at work. Now to find out how committed she is.
My fingers work the knot in my tie, tugging it side-to-side to lessen the restriction at my throat while I watch the security feed on my monitor. She leaves her car at the roadway, her shoulders visibly rising as she takes a deep breath and heads for the house.
A smile twitches at the corner of my lips as I push the chair away from my desk and rise to meet her. I shouldn’t take pleasure in her pain, but who the fuck am I kidding?
I live for other people’s pain.
The feed shows her mere steps from the front door, her hands wringing before her as she appears to think over her approach. My feet make quick work of the yards between my office and the foyer, slowing as I near the massive timber door.
Any second now …
The tie still feels too tight; I work it free and toss it aside. Not as though I need it on anymore.
What is she doing?
My leg twitches, the indecision in my stance as I weigh up the choices: stay here and wait her out, or duck back in to my office and see why the fuck she hasn’t pressed the doorbell or knocked yet.
The simple monotone of the bell seems deafening by the time she finally fucking presses it. I lunge for the door, and then hesitate. No need to seem so eager. I mentally work through how long it would take me to walk from the office, making the motions in my mind as I wait the appropriate length of time before opening the door.
“Corinne? What are you doing here?” As if I had no idea who it was … pfft.
She runs her bottom lip between her teeth before answering. “I have questions.”
I open my mouth to reply, yet she takes me by surprise, pushing past to bowl on in to my house. “Make yourself at home,” I quip as I shut the door and turn to follow her.
She makes tracks through the place, her head twisting left and right as she appears to catalog every detail. Her purse hits the sofa in the living area with a bounce, her heels clicking over the tiles as she heads toward the hallway.
“Anything you need help with?” I wisecrack as she tries a door.
“What do you really do for a job?”
“Cyber security.”
She spins, eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”
Like that, is it? “You saw me at your workplace. What makes you think I don’t tell you the truth?”
“Last I checked,” she states, sticking her head in an open doorway to survey the spare room beyond, “people didn’t make this much from installing firewalls.”
“Maybe it’s old money.”
“Nope.” She marches toward my bedroom, and then seems to think better of it. “I haven’t seen a thing yet that screams heirloom.”
“Old money doesn’t mean old possessions.” I chuckle. “Maybe all that junk is at my parents’ place?”
“Don’t believe you.”
I catch her by the arm as she attempts to pass on her way back to the living room. “What happened, Corinne? Why are you here?”
Her disdain is clear in the curl of her lip. “There were cameras. Did you know that? Because I sure didn’t.”
“Do we get a copy of the file?” I smirk.