Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,76
and fake dog poop he’d used on his office mates were testimony to that. Besides, he was a numbers nerd, not a computer geek. He wasn’t capable of creating a sophisticated CGI fake like this, was he?
The game that someone—who had to know them both—was playing was malicious and manipulative. The rules, if there were any, had just changed radically and the stakes had been raised.
Her screen saver appeared, a stock photo of a midnight ocean. Moonlight shimmered on the tranquil dark water.
She wished she could sink beneath it and disappear herself. Soon she’d have to walk out of this office. What if there were whispers? Open stares. Worse than that, the not-looks, the tactful silence, from colleagues who were kinder or less judgmental. She knew their underlying pity would be harder for her to take than open contempt or salacious interest.
What could she do? What could she say?
It wasn’t me in the tape, you jerk. Not at all. Okay, the face was mine. But not the body. What do you mean, prove those weren’t my tits? I can, though. Look. She imagined the sound of popping buttons and horndog yelps, or maybe she hallucinated both. See the difference? See?
What if—oh no. Iris would be sure to find out about the second tape. And eventually, her mom, who had yet to hear about the first one. Although that would take a while, because her mother’s bulky old computer didn’t work well and the cable bill went unpaid every other month, and she didn’t subscribe to any newspapers and rarely left the house.
It didn’t matter.
Cara bit her lip to keep from crying.
“Cara,” he whispered, reaching for her, but she pulled away.
“Had you seen it already?”
“Of course not.”
“I checked what I could.” Cara pointed to the screen. “That URL is for the desktop computer that some of the interns use. It’s in the traders’ bullpen.”
The rows of connected desks were unoccupied, the several monitors on each showing blank blue screens. Wall-mounted TVs tuned to money news that were never turned off had been switched to silent mode. The few desks that held only phones, for discussions with secretive clients who preferred deal making without emails or paperwork, were also empty. A row of large clocks bearing the names of foreign cities in different time zones, financial centers on a par with New York, ticked away the hours.
Fortunately, she’d known which computer to look for: [email protected]
“The time stamps on the emails are 3:01, 3:02, 3:03, and 3:04. As far as I know, no one can even get into the building at that hour. Any ideas?”
His answer was blunt and immediate. “We got hacked. Those emails didn’t come from that computer; they came through it.”
“That doesn’t mean an outsider is responsible.”
“Hard to say.”
“What? Are you still thinking this is Davies?”
“I doubt it, considering Alex found him in the Caribbean and he’s been busy with his own shady shit as usual, but who knows. He can have someone working for him. In any case, Deena needs to know about this right away.”
“No!”
He ran his fingers through his hair, his facial features tight and dark. “Come here, Cara,” he said quietly.
“No. And stay right where you are,” she said quickly when he moved to come toward her.
“Damn it, Cara.”
“We’re over, Branden.”
“The hell we are,” he growled.
“We should never have started. This is my fault.”
“No, this is the fault of some bastard coward with too much time on his hands.”
“Time he or she is clearly using to try and take us down. I won’t give that person the satisfaction of going to her for help.”
His brows went up. “Are you saying you think Deena is responsible for this?”
“I’m not ruling it out.”
He shook his head. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” The antagonism she’d felt on first meeting the glamorous tech expert hadn’t gone away. Neither had the memory of the lovely hand on Branden’s shoulder, staking a hidden claim. “Even if she isn’t responsible for this, she feels something for you, Branden. Don’t deny it. If she thinks your hers, showing her these will only lead to more trouble.”
He laughed out loud. “Deena doesn’t think I’m hers. Not the way you’re implying.”
It irked Cara that Branden defended Deena automatically. Then again, he’d brought her in as part of his new team. The nature of his relationship with Deena otherwise was none of Cara’s business. Especially now that anything personal between her and Branden was over. Still, for him to say he meant nothing to Deena…
“Bullshit,” she said.
His expression grew