My Stepbrother's Dirty Little Secret novel Chapter 97

Gianna

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“Gianna,” Aileen’s voice made me jump.

My mouse skidding across the pad. I looked up, my heart already starting that frantic, thumping rhythm against my ribs. Aileen was walking toward me, her heels clicking perfectly on the floor.

“Take this to Mr. Capone,” she said, dropping a stack of papers on my desk. “It’s the predictive fraud model for the Midland Trust meeting. He needs to approve the risk thresholds.”

Aileen reached over and set a steaming cup of black coffee on my desk, the dark liquid swirling near the rim.

“Black. No sugar,” she added, “And Gianna? Don’t mess this up. The client is waiting.”

I stood up, and picked up the coffee tray with one hand and the report with the other.

The video flashed in my mind again. It was like a movie playing on a loop behind my eyes. I could see the garage. I could see the way my body was arched, my hips moving against him while he just sat there on that bike.

I walked toward his office, every step feeling like I was heading toward a cliff. Why didn’t he stop me? The thought kept screaming in my head. He had just watched me. He had let me humped him like an animal while he looked bored, like I was nothing more than a minor distraction. The shame was hot, burning in my throat and making it hard to swallow.

I reached his office door. My steps slowed without me meaning to. My hand hovered in the air, not knocking yet.

If I walk in, he’ll look at me. If he looks at me, the video, that email, those words. My fingers curled slightly against the tray. The cup clinked softly again.

Just go in.

Just do your job.

I lifted my hand and knocked, two soft taps.

“Come in,” his voice came from inside.

I pushed the door open slowly. He was standing near the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a file. His back was to me at first.

For one second, I thought maybe he wouldn’t turn around right away and I could just leave the coffee and go.

He pointed to the small space right beside his chair. My heart hammered. I walked around the desk, my hip brushing against the edge of his table. I leaned over to look at the report, my hair falling forward. I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could smell the spice of his cologne. It was suffocating.

I had prepared for it, I won't be making the same mistake again.

“The system... it tracks patterns,” I started, “It looks for behavior shifts. Like... location changes or weird logins. If it doesn't match the user, it flags the risk.”

“Be specific,” he murmured.

He wasn't looking at the report. I could feel his eyes on me. I glanced down and realized he wasn't looking at the numbers at all. He was staring at the curve of my butt.

I straightened up immediately, my face flaming. “The threshold is eighty-two percent,” I corrected quickly, “For high-risk flagging.”

He reached for his coffee at the exact same moment I reached out to adjust the papers.

Our fingers didn't just brush, my hand slammed into the edge of the cup. Everything went into slow motion. The dark, scalding liquid tipped over the rim, splashing directly onto his lap. It soaked into his expensive gray trousers, spreading fast across his thighs.