That didn’t let him off the hook, of course.
“Get me another glass of wine,” she told him.
“Gladly.” He signaled the flight attendant for a beverage refresh.
Nikki took a dee
p sip as Damen set her computer on his foldout tray. He paused, as though suddenly not eager to inspect the ports.
As though…he feared what he might discover. As though…he truly wanted her to be innocent.
Did he?
She impulsively rested a hand on his forearm. “How will you know if I’m guilty or not?”
His gaze shifted to her. “If the device is connected to your computer, I’m naturally suspicious as to how it ended up there, not just in your bag.”
“Me, too,” she confessed. And crooked a brow.
Taking the bait, he asked, “Have you left either unattended, out of your sight, for more than a minute?”
“It’s not like I take my laptop to the restroom with me in my own hotel suite, Damen,” she ground out.
“I’m talking about in public places.”
“The bag is basically an appendage. I take it everywhere when I’m out and about.”
“But there are instances when you set it aside. Yes?” he prompted. Suggesting he wanted her to be innocent?
My, how the plot—and the sexual tension—thickens.
She told him, “When I was in your room, before you disappeared, and I stepped outside to speak with Kate and Jude. When I was in your room and answered a call on my cell. When I was in your room and questioning people where the hell you’d gone.”
She sat back and took a deep drink.
“Angry-much?”
“Fuck you.”
He chuckled, though it was notably strained. “So you were curious about what happened to me?”
“That’s not the question on deck. You want to know if I left my bag, my laptop, unattended. Yes, sometimes, in what I considered to be a secure environment. Only in the hospital. But never far away and never for long. And yes, in public places, I actually did take it to the bathroom with me, Damen. So just pose or answer a question, already. Because, I’d never actually abandon my laptop.”
“I think we’ve established that,” he said with a nod.
A tear crested the rim of her eye. “Then you know you’re literally killing me right now.”
She wasn’t exaggerating or being overly dramatic.
He seemed to get this. “Let’s just start with step one…”
5
Damen slid his finger along the edge of her laptop.
And groaned. Sealing her fate?
“It’s not fucking mine,” she hastily whispered—in Portuguese. “Goddamn it, Damen. I don’t know anything about—”