Free The Diary of Brad De Luca by Alessandra Torre Page B

anything to shut her up, but came up blank. He pulled out a chair and sat down. “Fine. You know me. Now give me the goods.”
     
    She pulled open her file cabinet, her fingers deftly dancing over the tabs until she stopped, yanking out a file and holding it to her ample breasts. “What’cha got to offer?”
     
    “Your job,” he said pointedly.
     
    She scrunched her mouth to the side and looked at the ceiling. “Nope. You couldn’t sharpen a pencil without me here. Something else.”
     
    “Is there anything in there I even want?” he drawled out, leaning forward and looking into her eyes.
     
    She leaned forward as well, her mouth curving into a playful smile. “Ohhhh yeah, De Luca. But you already know that or else you wouldn’t be darkening my doorstep.”
     
    “Fine. A day of PTO.”
     
    “Three days,” she countered.
     
    “Two,” he said with a wry smile. “Though I don’t know who will sharpen my pencils during that time. Now speak .”
     
    She flipped open the file, a glossy 4x6 staring out from the pages. He inhaled without thought, the brunette beauty devastating with her glasses off and hair down.
     
    “Yep,” Rebecca said smugly. “No wonder Broward snatched her up. Word in the halls is that they almost didn’t accept her, given her looks, but Broward said he would handle it—keep your paws at bay and her safe and sound.”
     
    He frowned, flipping over her photo and picking up the application. Fucking with Broward’s intern wasn’t the best idea for office politics, not when combined with his rocky past. The right thing, the smart thing, would be to forget he saw her and move on. “Impressive GPA,” he remarked, noting her Dean’s List standing and numerous accolades. “She a bookworm?”
     
    “More like brilliant,” Rebecca said. “Going off her Facebook page, she’s got an active social life. So she either lives off no sleep, or doesn’t have to work hard for that 4.0.”
     
    “A boyfriend?” He looked up from the file to meet her eyes.
     
    “Does it matter ?” she said, with the voice of a disapproving parent.
     
    “I’m not in here asking about her because I need a new file clerk. Answer the question.”
     
    “It isn’t in her application,” she pointed out.
     
    “Neither are her Facebook status updates.” He gave her a hard look.
     
    “Fine. She just ended an engagement,” she said flatly. “So she’s vulnerable. Not looking for someone to waltz in and fuck with her head.”
     
    He shot her a wounded look. “You give me no credit.”
     
    “Wrong, Mr. De Luca. When it comes to fucking, I give you all the credit.” With that, she snatched the folder away, shutting it and pushing it to the side. “We’re good, right? You’re going to behave? Keep to this wing and let her keep to hers?”
     
    He regarded her carefully, his eyes unfocused, and pondered the question.
     
     

the chase
    Thursday: two days later.
     
    He couldn’t get away from this girl. She was a vice that followed him around, from her Tuesday appearance in the East Wing to the Wednesday early morning call. A call from his cousin, digging for information on Julia for a man named Bob. A call that had stuck with him, the forbidden fruit becoming more enticing the more he discovered.  
     
    Broward’s intern, who apparently hid a sexual fire beneath that sweet cardigan. Another man hot on her trail. Calling around, asking questions. Competition .
     
    He had gone straight to the office after the call, finding her in the west kitchen, butter on her lips, the scent of fear coming off her skin. But she’d had bite, shrugging off his advances, pushing away despite the attraction that flickered in her eyes.
     
    It was there. Heat between them. And when he had pulled up to her in the garage? Ordered her to get in the car and go to lunch? She had obeyed, as she should have. He was a senior partner, she an intern. She should have wiped drool off her mouth and scampered in,