Facade (Billionaire in Disguise 1)

“I’ll remember them. Just go,” I said.

“The two disgruntled employees from that layoff were Robert Wiltshire and Nancy Pettigrew.”

“What about the embezzlement layoffs?” I asked.

“You sure you can remember this?”

“Yes. I’m very good at remembering things. I have near-perfect recall.”

“Near-perfect isn’t perfect,” I said.

“Trust me. I got it. Keep going.”

“Harvey Wilson, Sam Wilcox, and Martie Chandler were the three caught embezzling.”

“I actually recall an article I read on that issue. I’ll backtrack it later. What about the women?” I asked.

“The women I dated?”

“Yep.”

“Um, let’s see. There was Lisa Blatacky. She was a shrewd businesswoman. We parted on mutual terms because we got caught up in growing our own companies. Then there was Valerie Rickshaw, who was nothing but a rich socialite. Killer pair of legs. Lived off Mom and Dad. And Gretchen Lancaster, who was in journalism school at the time. I met her at a fundraiser. She was smart as a whip but incredibly judgmental about my passion to be a businessman. She was always ‘fighting the man’ and ‘pushing back against the system’ and shit like that. Last time we spoke was around last year.”

“Do you know when you last spoke to the other two?” I asked.

“I’ve been too busy running a company to recall that kind of information. The only reason I remember her was because she was the most recent.”

“Seems she left her imprint,” I said.

“Like I said, she was the last so she’s easier to recall.”

But I knew better. Men didn’t always recall their last. But they did always recall their best.

“I get where Gretchen’s coming from. I’ve always been a warrior woman, of sorts. It’s why I haven’t dated much. If I wasn’t out in the field or training, I was intimidating men who didn’t enjoy the company of a strong woman.”

“It takes a special man to stand beside a woman like that,” Derek said.

“Plus, being in all my units, not much dating happened, period. No one ever wanted to throw off the cohesion of the group by introducing distracting outside influences.”

“Then why did you bring John into things?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t you attracted to him?”

I threw my head back and laughed at the thought of it all.

“What? Hell, no. He’s nowhere near my type. Yikes. Where the fuck did you get that notion?” I asked.

“The way you look at him,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I’ve known him for years. Worked alongside him in many ops and with many clients. I trust him. He’s probably the only person I do trust.”

“So you don’t trust easily.”

“In my line of work, can you blame me?” I asked.

We talked back and forth a little while longer before I had to get up to go to the bathroom. The restroom was so much bigger than any airplane I’d ever been on, and I grinned as I shook my head. Derek Steele was a lavish man who enjoyed his finer things, but I wasn’t going to complain about it. Whatever finer things in life he enjoyed, I could enjoy right alongside him to ease the work this detail was going to create for me.