Page 11 of Badass Alien Boss

“No. I have no reason to go that way.”

“So, why did you?”

“I was living with Korsan at the time, and it was the shortest route. Speaking to the charity was a special one-time event.”

They’d reached the office. Employees entering the building glanced their way. At least this time, he sensed they were eying Michaela and not his scars or the way he hobbled like a cripple. A few company employees were aware of the attack, but others only knew he’d been in an “accident.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He snorted. “Why ask permission now?”

“What exactly do you do for the company?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He said you were an analyst. What do you analyze?”

“Business opportunities.” Korsan Enterprises was a holding company with a controlling interest in a half dozen subsidiaries, including a galactic real-estate conglomerate, a chain of nightclubs, hotels, and an interplanetary travel agency. They even had a small stake in GAL Friday. “I evaluate companies for future investment and evaluate the profitability of existing subsidiaries.”

“You have a background in that?”

“You’re wondering if I’m a pity hire.”

“I didn’t say that!” Her eyes flashed.

“For the record—Iama pity hire. But I’m also good with numbers.” He’d worked as a junior analyst temporarily while waiting to get accepted into the space force. That seemed like a lifetime ago. Seemed like someone else’s life, actually.

“You’re toughandsmart,” she said.

“That sounds like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Let’s go inside. We need to talk.”

* * * *

“Sit.” He pointed to a guest chair and took his place behind the desk, masking his relief at how much he’d needed to sit down.

He rocked in his chair and stared at her, not saying anything. She held his gaze, blue eyes deceptively guileless. She perched on the edge of her seat, leaning forward as if he had her full attention, but he guessed if she sat all the way back, her feet wouldn’t touch the floor.

No one would suspect her of being his bodyguard. It was an ingenious misdirect, whether intentional on his brother’s part or not. People would assume she was his administrative assistant, or that he was phukking her, or both.

She did have defense training, and she’d impressed him with her perceptive analysis of the attack. After their conversation on the way to the office, despite his ire, he’d reconsidered his intention to get rid of her. She might be worth keeping around for a while—provided they got a few things straight.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.

“No.” She shrugged.

“Think about it.”

“Can’t think of anything.”

From his pocket, he withdrew the spy devices and tossed them across his desk like a handful of gaming cubes. “I believe these belong to you.”

She didn’t even blink. “What makes you think those are mine?”

“If they’re not, we have an even bigger problem than we thought.”