Page 165 of Twisted Knight

“Your gran was a fucking catty, meticulous genius who knew exactly what she was doing. I mean”—Sloane shuffles papers on the other end of the line—“she has all of this shit line-itemed out.”

“I know. It’s pretty impressive,” I say as I glance once more at my closed office door—just to make sure it didn’t miraculously open itself back up.

“Affairs between board members and officials high up the town’s chain of command. Loans made to shady people for gambling debts. Illegitimate children who no one knows about. Dirty deals with the wrong crowd.”

“She was stockpiling.”

“She was giving you blackmail material is what she was doing,” she murmurs.

“It’s easy to say that, but that doesn’t mean anything will pan out.” I’ve looked at it all. I’ve studied it all. It’s not beneath me to use it, but I need the money from Gran to use it.

That’s the crux of it all.

“You’re learning the playing field. You’re seeing who might be a logical person to pressure if need be. Most of them are old. Some might be so old they don’t care about a scandal. Others might be so old they don’t want the scandal. Rowan? Are you there?”

“Yeah. One sec…”

The phone is to my ear, but my feet are moving toward the door so that I can better view the woman who just walked down the hall.

She’s tall. Statuesque and svelte. Her pencil skirt is a deep gray and her sweater is tucked into it tight. Her nylons have seams in the back and her heels are higher than high.

She carries herself with an elegance and air that has others in the office peeking their heads out of their offices to take notice.

And she walks right into Holden’s office without stopping.

Holden steps into the doorway and meets my eyes from my position down the hall for the briefest of seconds. I hate that I can’t read what they say, but before I can figure it out, he shuts the door and the blinds seconds thereafter.

“Rowan?” Sloane says in my ear.

“Yeah. Sure. I’m here.”

“No, you’re not. What just happened?”

“Nothing,” I say.

And it was nothing, wasn’t it? Just a business associate of Holden’s.

One for whom he shut the blinds and the door.

Much like he does when we’re in here alone at night and having sex in some form or another.

My tongue feels thick in my mouth.

“Are you okay?” Sloane continues.

Am I? Of course I am.

I have to be.

Just a business associate.

“Yes.” I shake my head to clear it and force myself back to my desk so that I can’t see down the hallway.

But that doesn’t stop me from wondering.

Is this a payback for the server room stunt?

Is he really that petty?