Unexpectedly Expecting the Sheik's Baby - Elizabeth Lennox Page 0,68
eyes away from Nancy’s computer and hurried after Malcolm into the office.
“Close the door,” Malcolm ordered.
Ella had to restrain herself from slamming it while curtsying. Sarcastically, of course. But she stepped back and quietly closed the door, then turned to face the man she was going to put into prison.
“So...”
“I read that story you did on last month on human trafficking. It was brilliant. Do you think it will do any good?”
Ella had written about the desperate situation in several countries, which created an environment where teenage girls could be enticed to apply for “jobs” in other countries. Unfortunately, the modeling jobs, nanny positions, and housekeeping roles never materialized. Instead, those vulnerable girls were forced into horrible situations, beaten and drugged, sold off as prostitutes, and never seen by their families again. Most of them died and were simply tossed into the streets or a pit somewhere out of the way, easily replaced by yet another girl trying desperately to “make it” in the world.
“I don’t know. I ensured that the articles also ran in the smaller newspapers. So if the article saves even one girl from being kidnapped and used, then that’s a good thing.”
He nodded sharply, those cobalt blue eyes sharp and intelligent. “I agree. What are you working on now?”
She smiled, sitting down in the club chair across from him. “I’ve come across some interesting leads for a story that, I suspect, started decades ago. Maybe longer.”
“I’m intrigued.” He opened his mouth to say more, but a knock sounded and Nancy stepped into the office carrying a full tray. “Thank you, Nancy,” Malcolm said and she smiled, set the tray down onto the table between them and walked out quietly, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Please, help yourself,” he said, referring to the tray of small sandwiches. There were small plates and fruit along with sodas.
“I’m fine,” Ella replied, waving the food away.
“Do you mind if I go ahead? I’ve been in meetings since early this morning and I’m starving.”
Ella shrugged. “Fine by me,” she told him, then watched, fascinated as he put several of the small sandwiches onto a plate.
“You were telling me about your next revelation?” he prompted.
“I’m working on putting you and your rich cronies into prison,” she announced.
That got a smile out of him and Ella wondered about it. Was he so confident about his social status as an aristocrat that he thought of himself as immune to conviction? Or was he innocent of whatever was going on with the secret society?
“That is really going to put a dent in my social life,” he chuckled. “What do you think I’ve done to warrant a prison sentence?’ he asked, leaning back and taking another bite of his sandwich.
Ella watched him, oddly fascinated by his hands. They were strong, with long, deft fingers. What was it about those hands was so interesting?
She jerked her eyes away from his hands and looked up at his features. “Um…” focus! “Have you ever heard or seen a symbol like this one?” she asked, pulling out her notebook and flipping to the page where she’d sketched the flaming hand symbol.
Malcolm leaned forward, his eyes looking over the picture before leaning back. “What does it mean?” he asked.
Ella noticed that he hadn’t answered her question. Interesting, she thought. “I don’t know what it means. Yet,” she paused significantly. “But I’m going to find out, Malcolm.”
“Where did you first see that symbol?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. But what do you know about it?”
“Oh, I’m sure that there are secret societies all over the world, Ella.”
She smiled predatorily. “Another evasive answer.”
He laughed and Ella ignored the jump of her stomach at the deep, rich sound. “You’re not giving me a whole lot to go on. Perhaps if you tell me when you saw the symbol, I might be able to help you a bit more.”
She shook her head. “I don’t give out my sources, Malcolm. You should know that, being in business and all.”
“Being in business isn’t nearly as mysterious as investigating crimes, I suspect.”
Ella tilted her head, fascinated by his answer. “I would have thought that our jobs were pretty similar. I find out a small bit of information, a thread of mystery. And I keep tugging on that thread, discovering those mysteries. In your line of business, you find a clue that a previously strong company has been mismanaged, am I right?” she asked.
“I hunt down companies that are struggling financially,” he confirmed.