Page 12 of South of Justice

He was in his late-forties, his thick hair just starting to turn silver at his temples. Very good-looking, with a strong jaw and black eyes that seemed to take up more of the white around his pupils than the average person. His skin was smooth and tan, barely showing his age, and his beard was black and perfectly trimmed. He looked like he had just stepped off the set of an old Hollywood movie, playing a rogue or a pirate. Blackbeard, maybe, or Rhett Butler.

Even so, he was old enough to be her father, and she’d never had a particular thing for older men. So why did the sensation of his eyes on her suddenly make her feel like she’d stumbled over her own feet?

“I see here,” he said slowly, tapping his finger on her résumé, “that you graduated top of your class. Impeccable marks.” He smiled, and his face softened, though his eyes didn’t. “Top percentile in economics. You also interned at the Ministry of Finance?”

Lucía nodded, pulse skimming faster now. “Yes,señor. For six months. Under Director Gómez’s team.”

“And you worked on asset mapping?”

“Yes. Primarily digital currency trails and sanctions compliance audits.”

Javier tilted his head, clearly pleased. Lucía allowed a tiny bit of hope to bloom.

“So,” he went on, “you understand shell structures. Beneficial ownership laws. Cross-border laundering vulnerabilities.” His voice was so deep it seemed to emanate from somewhere in his chest rather than in his throat.

“I do.” She straightened her spine, the hope blossoming into confidence. “And I’ve also studied red flag markers in corporate acquisitions, particularly in sectors that tend to invite scrutiny. Real estate, mining, logistics.”

A pause. Then he hummed. “Impressive.” He let the word sit between them, then looked down, flipping a page with slow fingers. “You’ve read the Syzmanski paper on fraud layering?”

“Of course.”

“Your opinion of it?”

She blinked. No one had asked that in other interviews. “I think the conclusion undervalued the role of human behavior. Algorithms can only follow patterns. But people…people invent new ways to lie all the time.”

He looked up. “And how would you rate yourself at spotting a lie?”

She paused before she answered. Was this another test? “I’m learning,” she said carefully. She offered a cautious smile. “But I’m very good at patterns.”

“Mmm.” He leaned back in his chair now, just a little. The movement exposed more of his throat, that open collar like an invitation. His arms stretched wide across the leather chair’s armrests. Relaxed. Commanding.

His gaze swept over her, not lasciviously, but intimately. As though he were dissecting her, one element at a time. Her hair. Her skirt. Her nails. Her posture.

Her nipples.

Her confidence suddenly withered and died.

“I must say,” he said softly, “you present yourself well, too.”

Lucía tightened her hold on the portfolio, aware of how damp her hands had become.

“Did you choose this outfit?”

“I…did.”

“It’s flattering,” he said, his tone unreadable. “You understand appearances are a form of language, don’t you?”

“Yes,señor.”

“And you know how to speak it.” He let that hang, then smiled. “That’s rare. And valuable.”

Lucía felt herself start to breathe again, a little warmth creeping back in. Her heart still fluttered, but maybe from something closer to anticipation than fear. She could handle this. Shewashandling it. She’d impressed him.

“Now,” he said, voice dropping another octave, “why don’t you do one more thing for me?”

The question was benign, but something about the way he said it made her response come out in a croak. “Um. Sure.”

His smile widened, lazy and predatory all at once. “Stand up.”