Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,16

sitting down without leaning back. Cara took a deep breath. “Sorry. That was a friend of mine. I usually never take personal calls in the office.”

A semblance of a smile appeared on his face, as if Mike Gaunt wasn’t too accustomed to smiling. “I know. The phone records confirm it.”

Not just a manager, she thought with dismay. A micro-micromanager with control-freak eyes. Which were boring into her.

“You have a completely clean record, in fact. There are employees here who abuse their perks and privileges. But not you,” he said. “You could be our poster person for work-appropriate conduct.” That awful pseudo smile appeared again.

Cara guessed that Mike Gaunt didn’t read Deets. And she thanked her lucky stars for that.

Chapter 5

A half hour after discovering the photo of her on Deets, Cara did the only thing she could do—she made the trek to Branden Duke’s office and told him about it.

“Hmm. It’s a little out of focus.” Branden had pulled up the photo of her on his monitor at Cara’s request. “Let’s get rid of the glare so I can get a better look.”

He pushed a button. New blinds with ultra-thin metallic slats began to lower automatically, concealing the tall windows inch by inch. The heavy silk drapes in old gold—the color of serious money, Max Dubois used to say cheerfully—had been removed from Max’s former office.

In the short time he’d been there, he’d revamped the office. It was his lair now. The towering bookshelves were gone, too, along with a jumble of aging printouts and thick binders. The walls showed no scars from the removal because expensive hardwood paneling had been installed, covering everything. There was no art. Nothing personal anywhere. The new desk had no drawers and no work in progress atop its highly polished surface. There was a couch that looked just like the one she’d napped on at Branden’s mansion. Just as long, just as black. But much less inviting, with no white cashmere afghan to soften its hard lines.

Cara stared at Branden as he studied the photo.

He was being so nonchalant, but she supposed the view had to be different when you lived on top of a mountain of money. A hint dropped on a gossip blog that he was up to no good, financially and otherwise, proved exactly nothing, and he had lawyers and PR flacks at his beck and call to take care of bad press. To say nothing of outside tech specialists who could make oh-so-embarrassing online mentions sink down in the rankings. She didn’t. Plus, it didn’t matter that she and Branden were both single. He was her boss, and the last thing she needed were rumors that she was sleeping her way to the top.

“I don’t know who took it,” Cara said, feeling like she needed to say something when he remained silent. “Or why anyone would post it.”

“The answer is obvious,” he said matter-of-factly. “Because you look sensational. That just-got-kissed mouth and the messed-up hair are made for a tabloid cover.”

She frowned. “Great. Super great. Is that where I’m going to end up? On the cover of every tabloid in the supermarket, getting rung up with a quart of milk and a dozen eggs?”

“I wouldn’t worry if I were you.”

“But you’re not me! And I am worried. I don’t want people…whispering about me. Making up stories,” she said, unable to hide the distress she was feeling.

“Look, you’re not a celebrity. I’m sure this will blow over quickly and quietly.”

“If I’d known there were reporters and photographers roaming around your place, I never would have—”

“What? Tried to seduce me?” He was almost laughing.

“Now hold on,” she snapped.

He held up his hand. “I was kidding. Calm down. And don’t worry. I’m not a celebrity, either.”

“And yet apparently, despite the fact I’d never heard of you, you’re a celebrity on the Street. And practically anything can go viral. Reputations get shredded.”

He sat up straight, extending his long legs under the contemporary desk as he rested his elbows on the top of it, studying her. “I just don’t think yours will. You’re not doing anything in that photo except standing there looking gorgeous. Since when is that a crime?”

She felt herself blush. Fortunately, the darkened room hid it. “Sooner or later I’ll be identified. As your employee.”

“Right. My beautiful employee who had just attended a not very exclusive party with about a hundred other people. The rest is spin.”

She thought about what he was saying. She supposed it made sense. For the first time