* * *
Blakely had no idea where she was going...but she needed to get away from Gray before she did something stupid.
Like start to believe him.
Or worse, give in to the invisible tether that pulled her to him whenever the man walked into a room.
The ladies’ room down the hall offered her an escape.
The man was walking, talking sin. And always had been. He’d carried the reputation of being hell-bent on pleasure for pleasure’s sake. Sex, adrenaline, fast cars and the jet-setting lifestyle.
Gray Lockwood’s picture would appear next to the word sinner in the dictionary.
Seriously, it wasn’t fair. The man had hit the lottery when he’d been born. And not just because he’d been part of a prominent Southern family with good breeding and lots of money. His parents had passed on some amazing genes.
The man was gorgeous, and he knew it. Eight years ago, the most important decision she’d ever seen Gray make was choosing which of the women throwing themselves at him that he would take to bed. He had a confident demeanor, an outgoing attitude and Greek-god good looks.
Sure, Blakely had found him attractive, as did every other female in his vicinity. But he’d been easy to resist because he’d been ungrounded, spoiled and entitled. The man had thrown around money like he was playing Monopoly. He had a reputation for buying expensive cars just to drive them fast and crash them. He’d loved to party and had been known for paying for twenty people to have a wicked week in Vegas or Monaco or Thailand. And during the trial, the prosecution had brought into evidence that he’d racked up millions in gambling debts.
Now, he was...different.
The beautiful body had been hardened, probably by some time in the prison gym if she had to guess. And she’d been hard-pressed to miss the puckered skin of a scar running down his left eyebrow into the corner of his deep green eye. Somehow, the imperfection made him even more appealing. Before, Gray Lockwood had been too perfect.
But the biggest change was in his demeanor. While he still had the ability to command any room he walked into, his force was quieter.
The question was, could she work with him for the next six weeks without either wanting to kill him or being tempted to run her hands down his solid body? Or, even more, could she work on a project she didn’t believe in simply for money?
She had no doubt, then and now, Gray Lockwood had plenty of secrets to hide. She’d uncovered one and it had derailed her life. Did she really want to risk uncovering more?
Blakely groaned, rubbing her hands down her face before washing them. Leaning over the sink, she stared hard into her own reflection. She’d spent her entire adult life doing the right thing. Because integrity was important to her. As someone raised by a criminal and con artist...you either joined the family business or became straighter than an arrow.
Watching her father bounce in and out of jail her entire childhood, that decision had been a no-brainer. She despised people who took the easy way out—anyone who took advantage of others’ weaknesses or misfortunes. As far as she was concerned, Gray Lockwood was the worst kind of criminal.
Because he hadn’t needed the money he’d embezzled.
Sure, he’d owed some nasty bookie a few million. But his net worth had been close to a billion. A lot of that wealth had been tied up in assets, but instead of liquidating, he’d decided to dip his hands into the family cookie jar. Probably because the spoiled rich boy thought he’d been entitled to it.
He’d never understood how taking that money had jeopardized the financial position of the company, not to mention the livelihood of all Lockwood Industries employees.
So the question was, could she spend the next six weeks pretending to work on a project she really didn’t believe in, in exchange for a salary that she desperately needed?
A knot formed in the pit of her belly. It wasn’t like she was lying to Gray. He knew full well she didn’t believe him. He had to be aware she wouldn’t exactly be the most motivated employee. Not to mention, he’d obviously maneuvered her here—which was something she’d have to talk with Anderson Stone and Finn DeLuca about, the assholes. So, really, she didn’t owe Gray anything.
At the end of the day, the question was, could she go to sleep at night with a clear conscience if she stayed?
Today, the answer was yes. She might not like where she was standing, but she had no doubt Gray had backed up his statement and she’d have a hard time finding another job right now. He couldn’t blackball her with every company in the country, so eventually she’d find something. But that might entail uprooting her life and moving. And while that didn’t necessarily bother her, she couldn’t do it right now.
Not when she was concerned her father was back to his old habits.
God, how had her life come to this?
Taking a deep breath, Blakely straightened her spine. She’d stay, take Gray’s money and work the six weeks. At least that would give her a cushion to line up something else.
She pulled out a paper towel and dried her hands, then pushed open the door. Two strides out, she jolted to a stop.
She didn’t even need to turn her head to know he was there. Her entire body reacted, a riot of energy crackling across her skin. So inconvenient.
Slowly, she turned her head, anyway. Arms crossed over his chest, Gray leaned casually against the wall right between the doors to the restrooms.
“Feel better now?”
Two
Blakely watched him with wary eyes. “No, not really.”
He shrugged, dismissing her statement. Because it didn’t matter. He wasn’t really worried about her comfort.
“Follow me,” he said, pushing off from the wall and striding past her. Her tempting scent slammed into him—it was something soft and subtle, but entirely her. Gray remembered it from before.
The one time he’d gotten close enough to pull her enticing scent deep into his lungs had involved a clash in the break room over some creamer he’d “borrowed” from her. After that, he’d purposely kept his distance. She was a vixen, and he’d had to fight the urge to shut down her tirade by kissing the hell out of her. Not smart.
Blakely might be beautiful, but she had a remote, standoffish manner about her. She’d been cordial with her coworkers, but not overly friendly. She wasn’t one of the women invited to a girls’ night out after work. Everyone appreciated her dedication. However, she didn’t exactly give off warmth.
And back then, Gray hadn’t just been looking for warm, he’d been looking for red-hot. With no strings. Everything about Blakely screamed serious.
So it hadn’t mattered that he couldn’t keep his gaze from tracking her whenever she walked down the hallways. Or that he would fall asleep with the phantom scent of her tickling his nose if they’d passed in the lobby.
Hell, he needed to get his head back in the game. Because now, Gray wasn’t so certain that the wall she’d put up between herself and everyone else wasn’t to hide her own nefarious intentions.
At the end of the hallway, Gray paused. He waited for her to decide what she was going to do. When the click of her heels sounded against the marble floor, he continued to the right.
“Where are we going?” she asked from several paces behind, in no hurry to catch up once she’d made her decision.
Without turning around, he answered, “I’ve got all the records from my trial in another office. You’re going to walk me through the evidence you presented against me.”
“Why? You were there in the courtroom.”
Yes, he had been. Watching her every move. The way she’d tucked a golden strand of hair behind her ear each time she looked down at the documentation the prosecution was using against him. Or how the sharp tip of her pink tongue would swipe across her lips each time she needed to pause and gather her thoughts before answering.
Had those
pauses been her organizing thoughts, or her making certain she told the right lies?
Turning into the empty office beside hers, Gray waited until she brushed past him, then closed the door. “I sure was, but I didn’t know then what I know now.”
“And what do you know now?”
Oh, there were so many answers to that question. Most she wouldn’t understand or appreciate. Several he had no intention of sharing with anyone, ever. But the only answer he was willing to give her right now was “Let’s just say I used my time in prison to broaden my education.”
Blakely made a buzzing noise in the back of her throat. “You’re one of those.”
“One of what?”
“People who go to jail and use the taxpayers’ money to get an education they couldn’t otherwise afford.”
Wasn’t that rich. “We both know I could—and did—afford a rather expensive Ivy League education before going to prison.” He’d graduated from Harvard Business School. Sure, he’d barely made the cut and hadn’t taken any of his classes seriously, but he had the damn degree.
“Little good it did you.”
He wasn’t going to refute that statement, mostly because he couldn’t. “But, considering I’m innocent of the crime I was charged with and spent seven years imprisoned against my will because of it, the least the state owed me was an education in whatever I wanted.”
“And what education was that?”
“I got a law degree.”
“Of course you did.”
At first, his plan was to figure out how to use his degree to help his own cause. Not surprising. However, it became obvious there wasn’t much the legal system could do for him. His own attorneys filed every appeal possible, but they were all denied. Short of a call from the governor—not likely since the man had never liked Gray’s father—that avenue wasn’t going to help.
What he had used it for, though, was helping several of the inmates incarcerated with Stone, Finn and himself. Guys who might have been guilty, but had gotten screwed over or railroaded because they couldn’t afford competent representation.
“That wasn’t all I accomplished inside.”
Blakely crossed her arms, her ice-blue eyes scraping up and down his body. “Oh, obviously.”
Gray’s lips twitched at her reaction. Her disdain was loud and clear. However, that didn’t prevent heat from creeping into her cheeks or her nipples from peaking and pressing against the soft material of her shirt.
He wasn’t stupid or oblivious to how women responded to him. He’d simply stopped taking advantage of the ones who shamelessly threw themselves at him. Funny how going without sex for seven years could make you appreciate it even more than having orgasms every day.
But he had no problem giving Blakely a hard time about her reaction. “And what, exactly, do you mean by that, Ms. Whittaker?”
“You know.”
Gray hummed, drawing out the low, slow sound. “No, I don’t think I do.”
Blakely rolled her eyes, then pursed her lips and glared at him. Gray waited, silent, his gaze boring into hers. So he was being slightly juvenile by enjoying the way she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
Finally, she answered, as he’d known she would if he waited long enough. “It’s clear you hit the gym whenever you could.”
“How is that?”
She waved her hand in front of him. “You’re huge. Broader, more muscular, than you were before.”
“I didn’t realize you’d noticed my physique before.”
The heat in her cheeks deepened. “You made damn sure every woman at Lockwood noticed you. You wallowed in the attention from every female you could snag.”
“But not you.”
“No, not me.”
“Is that because you weren’t interested or because I didn’t indicate that I was?”
Blakely’s jaw clenched and her molars ground together. He could practically hear the enamel cracking from here. This was fun, but not very productive for the work he needed to get out of her. He could hardly expect her to be cooperative if he kept taking digs.
Shaking his head, Gray moved farther into the room. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t very professional of me.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Blakely quickly agreed.
“Let’s agree that whatever concerns or animosity we had in the past, we both need to set them aside in order to work together right now.”
Her eyes narrowed. She was damn smart and had no doubt picked up on the fact that he’d suggested they set them aside, not let them go. He wasn’t ready to do that, not while he still questioned her role in the whole mess. Just as she wasn’t likely to forget what she knew—or thought she knew—about him.
“Let’s pretend we don’t know anything about each other and start from square one.”
She mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “not likely.” Gray decided to ignore it.
Pointing to a tower of seven cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of the room, he said, “Here’s the data. I also have most of the files electronically, but we need any notes from the attorneys, as well. Why don’t we start by tackling the information you presented on the stand and go from there?”
* * *
They’d started three days ago by going over the accounting records the prosecution had entered into evidence. The information she’d uncovered showed a pattern of behavior that had gone undetected for several months. Small amounts had been withdrawn daily from the operating accounts and transferred to a holding account. The amounts had been strategic, varied and below any threshold for automatic review or audit. The final two transactions were transfers of funds out of the company and into offshore accounts.
That first withdrawal was what had finally flagged Blakely’s attention. Unfortunately, not until almost four weeks later, when she’d been performing her monthly audit.
The first twenty-million-dollar transfer to Gray’s account had been flagged immediately since none of the proper paperwork had been completed. However, considering who was involved, Blakely just assumed he’d failed to follow protocol. At first. Once she’d started digging, she’d discovered a second transaction.
That transfer out had been different. On the surface, it had looked legitimate, with the proper documentation and supporting paperwork in the electronic files. But something about it had still felt wrong. Being a huge international organization, she wasn’t always privy ahead of time to large transactions...but more often than not she was aware when the company made large lump-sum purchases.
If anyone else had been auditing, they might not have bothered to look deeper. But she hadn’t been willing to let it go. It had taken her a while to pull the threads of the transactions to figure out what had really happened—and that the two transactions were connected.
What she hadn’t understood then, and still didn’t understand, was why Gray had covered his tracks on one withdrawal but not the other. It made no sense. Unless you took into consideration how lazy the man was. Maybe he just assumed no one would question his actions.
Blakely hadn’t been impressed with Gray’s work ethic and didn’t care whose son he was. The man had stolen millions of dollars from the company. Money they hadn’t been able to afford to lose.
She’d turned over the information, never realizing just how instrumental she’d become in the trial process. She’d been inside plenty of courtrooms in her life, all for her father. None of the experiences had been pleasant and neither was Gray’s trial. She’d been nervous on the stand, not because she hadn’t been confident about the information, but because she’d hated being the center of attention.
Reviewing the documents now brought back all of those emotions. She’d been on edge for days and it was wearing on her.
Or maybe that was being cooped up in an office with Gray. Any other time, she would hav
e said the office was pretty spacious, but put a sexy six-foot-two, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound guy in there, too, and it turned into a closet with all the air vacuumed out.
Letting out a frustrated groan, Gray tossed a bound testimony transcript toward an open box. The sheaf of papers bounced off the edge and clattered to the floor. “I need a break.”
Amen. “Okay,” Blakely said, seriously hoping he’d leave for a while. Or the rest of the afternoon. Or the week.
Standing up, he put his hands at the small of his back and leaned backward. The audible pop of his spine made Blakely shiver.
She tried to concentrate on the report in front of her. But it was damn hard not to notice every move he made. Each time Gray passed behind her chair, the tension in her body ratcheted higher. Her neck and shoulders ached with the struggle to ignore the physical awareness she really didn’t want. Without thought, Blakely reached around and began pinching the muscles running up into her neck, hoping the knots would loosen.
They were starting to...until Gray brushed her hands out of the way and took over. The minute his grip settled onto her shoulders, Blakely bolted upright in her chair.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Is this okay?”
Was it? Heat seeped into her skin. Her body tingled where he touched. Logically, Blakely knew she should say no. Move away. But she didn’t want to and somehow found herself slowly nodding.
Gray’s fingers dug deep into her muscles. At first, what he was doing hurt like hell...until her muscles started to relax and let go. Then it felt amazing.
Blakely was powerless to stop herself from melting beneath Gray’s touch. Delicious heat spread from his fingers, down her shoulders and into her belly. A deep sigh leaked through her parted lips as she sagged against the back of her chair.
“God, you’re so uptight.”
“Don’t ruin this,” she groused.
“Admit it. You wouldn’t know how to relax if someone gave you a flowchart.”
The Sinner's Secret Page 2
