I laugh and grab her ass, pulling her down into my lap. She laughs back and struggles but I hold her tight. I grab her hair and pull it back, squeezing her ass with my other hand. “How would you improve it then?” I say, lips brushing hers.
“I don’t know. I’d add that secondary sorting function, for starters. Maybe change to digital, have everything cross-referenced.”
“Mmmm,” I say and bite her bottom lip. She takes a sharp breath and kisses me.
I kiss her back, long and slow. Fuck, this girl is gorgeous and drives me wild. Even if she’s a huge fucking nerd.
The kiss slowly breaks off. “I need to work,” she says.
“You’re right. And I need a shower.”
“You’re really not going to help?”
“I’ll help after I shower.” I push her off and slap her ass. She gives me a look and shakes her head.
“You’re impossible.”
“Want to join me? Plenty of room for two.”
“Tempting, but no thanks. One of us has to be an adult.”
“Your loss.” I wave and head back into the bathroom.
I let her get some work done without me. I don’t really need to shower this second but I know that if I don’t pull myself away, I’m going to end up undressing her and taking her body. She can’t afford that distraction right now.
After I’m done, I put on some more comfortable clothes and rejoin her. She glances up at me then back down at her pad like I was barely even in the room. But finally, I decide to give in, pour myself another drink, and get to work.
We work for a few hours. It’s nearly ten at night by the time I sit back in my chair and stretch. She’s filled the entire notepad with little scrawlings and scratches that are apparently supposed to be words. I haven’t found anything, except for a few instances of us overpaying employees, and the employees not saying anything about it. Not that they should, but still, rough.
My phone starts ringing and I hold it up. “You mind?”
She barely grunts at me. Despite having been at it for so long, she’s still in the zone.
I have to admit, I’m impressed.
I get up and walk across the room. I answer before it goes to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Jacob.”
It’s my mother. I frown, surprised. She doesn’t call me. In fact, I don’t think she ever has. “Hello, Mother. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. I was out at a gala and had some very interesting conversations.”
“Did you tell them how much you donated this year? I’m sure your philanthropic pursuits are the talk of the town.”
She laughs lightly. “No, not quite. But I did have some very interesting conversation nonetheless.”
I glance over at Val. I don’t know if she’s noticed who I’m talking to or if she just doesn’t care. She’s still entirely engrossed in her spreadsheets.
“Okay, Mother. I’m listening.”
“First, I spoke with Dr. Ruthwig. Do you remember him?”
“Old. White hair. Rich.”
“You just described everyone I know, dear, but yes that’s the one. Dr. Ruthwig has been Darin’s father’s physician for twenty years. And do you know what he told me?”
“That he eats too much pasta and doesn’t exercise.”
My mother sighs. “No. He plays golf every Tuesday on a very exclusive course that Dr. Ruthwig is also a member of.”
“So he likes to golf. So what? Lots of old men like golf.”
“You’re not listening, dear. I spoke with another man, Rufus Spiers. He owns The Corsage, do you know the place?”
“Fancy, high-end restaurant.” I get up and pour a glass of whiskey.
“Right. He sees Mr. Ficino come in all the time. Almost once a week.”
“So far you’ve found out that he likes to eat lunch and play golf.”
“Yes, you’re right, dear.” She talks to me like I’m a child she’s trying to teach how to read. “One more. I spoke with Alvar Harrop.”
“Alvar Harrop?” I ask. “I know that name.”
“Owns a technology firm. They do cybersecurity.”
“Oh, yeah. I met him a couple years ago. He was going to invest with us but went with someone else at the last minute.”
“He plays tennis several times a week—”
“Let me guess,” I say, interrupting her. “Mr. Ficino also plays, also regularly.”
“That’s right.”
“Seriously, Mother. How is any of this interesting?”
“You haven’t asked the right questions yet.”
I clench my jaw. I’m starting to get annoyed. “What’s the right question?”
“What do all those things have in common?”
I hesitate. “They’re leisure activities.”
“Yes,” she says. “And?”
“You don’t do them alone.”
“Exactly,” she says, sounding delighted.
“You’re driving me insane. I’m serious.”
“He does all these activities with the same men. Every week, the same men. And these aren’t the kind of men that my associates recognize. Alvar called them ruffians. Dr. Ruthwig called them thugs. And you know what Rufus called them?”
“Gangsters,” I say.
“Exactly.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. “But is there any proof that these guys are in an organized crime family? I mean, aside from they look a little rough and are probably Italian.”