Page 137 of Mario
Not had-the-best-sex-of-my-life better.
“Sleep helped,” I say, which is true and also the understatement of the century.
“I’m glad to hear you got some.”
I nearly choke on nothing.
Lorenzo’s brows lift slightly.
I recover with what I hope is a normal smile and not the expression of a woman who definitely “got some.”
“Yes. Some,” I say. “Enough.”
His head tilts a fraction.
He’s far too perceptive.
I shift my briefcase higher on my shoulder. “Which is good, because I have a rather large amount of work waiting for me.”
“Unmanageable amount?”
“No. Nothing like that,” I clarify. “Just have some catching up from the weekend.”
“Ah, so the workaholic has survived the weekend.”
I laugh, and it comes out easier than I expect. “Unfortunately for everyone, yes.”
“Not everyone,” he says. “The access audit has caused several people a great deal of discomfort.”
“That is usually how I know I’m doing it right.”
His smile deepens. “Mario said something similar.”
My stomach jumps.
“Did he?” I ask, my voice careful.
“Yes. Though with fewer words.”
“Ah, that does sound like him.”
I hope it didn't sound too familiar.
Lorenzo’s eyes sharpen for a single second.
Not suspicion exactly.
Interest.
I force myself not to react.
There is nothing wrong with saying that sounds like him. I have worked with the man for two weeks. I am allowed to notice patterns. I am an attorney. Pattern recognition is practically half my job.
Lorenzo only says, “He has a 9:30 call, but he asked that you send him the updated access summary directly once you have it.”
“Of course,” I say. “I’ll have a preliminary version to him by early afternoon.”
“No rush.”
