Page 21 of Badass Alien Boss

“I envy your certainty of purpose. I’m still figuring out my next move.”

Soldiering was all he knew—except for financial analysis. Why not pick it up again? Maybe he could become aGuyFriday, try out different companies, different disciplines.Something to consider.

GAL Friday paidextremelywell. Having reviewed Korsan Enterprises’ accounts, he knew what the agency charged for Michaela’s services. She didn’t get the whole amount, of course. GAL Friday’s commission took some percentage of the fee—he guessed 25 to 40 percent—but it was still lucrative employment.

“Would you have picked my case?” he asked.

She hesitated a moment too long.Am I a sleeper? Do I bore her?“Initially—no. But only because you were a reluctant client. Korsan insisted on secrecy, saying you’d oppose having a bodyguard, which isn’t the way I like to work.”

“Sorry,” he said ruefully. “I acted like a jerk.”

“We worked it out. We’re a team now.” She smiled at him. His cock throbbed, and the world tilted a little. Through the kitchen pass-through, Mama watched them with a satisfied smile.

You’re wrong, Mama.

Chapter Eleven

One week later

Michaela straightened her green tunic and smoothed a hand over her hair before poking her head into Ruyn’s office. He squinted at the numbers displayed over his desk, his brow furrowed. One hand tapped a stylus. “Are you busy? I can come back,” she said.

“No, no. It’s fine. I need a break.” He smiled, and her heart fluttered.

Don’t do anything stupid like fall for him.

Since dinner at Mama’s a week ago, they’d eaten together every evening. Sometimes at a restaurant, others getting takeout and bringing it back to the apartment building. Once, to their peril, they’d returned to Mama’s.

“Well, that was a mistake,” they’d said afterward and laughed together, agreeing that as much as they loved the food and liked Mama, it would be best if they went to restaurants where the owner didn’t try to set them up.

Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so awkward if she wasn’t attracted to him. Her body hummed with awareness of his presence. She found herself watching him, not in an acceptable professional manner but in a personal way. Though she tried not to, she did all the usual things women did when they were infatuated—smiling, laughing, choosing flattering clothing, and taking greater care with her hair and makeup.

She should stop having dinner with him. She always swore thatthistime would be thelasttime, and thenexttime she’d beg off, but she always caved then rationalized that theydiddiscuss the case. However, the balance of the conversation always weighed more on the personal side. She found herself hanging on his every word, fascinated by his life, his culture, hischildhood, his relationship with his brother, his brief adolescent delinquency, his military career, everything.

She took a seat in front of his desk.

“Good news?” he asked.

“News,” she replied. “After a week of stonewalling, the coroner’s office sent me a copy of the death certificate.”

She couldn’tprovethey’d been stonewalling, but they’d used every excuse in the book to delay fulfilling her request for information about the man who’d tried to kill Ruyn. Since death certificates were public record, she should have been able to access it electronically, except it wasn’t in the archives. The coroner’s office blamed a huge backlog of certificates needing to be processed—despite a very low death rate. She might have attributed the delay to simple government bureaucracy until she finally received the certificate.

“Don’t keep me in suspense! Tell me. Was he Prellim or Luturnan?” Ruyn said.

“The certificate didn’t say.”

“What do you mean it didn’t say? That’s basic information on every certificate.”

“Not on this one. That question had been left blank.”

She wouldn’t put it past the government to send her the wrong certificate, so she’d done some digging. “Your assailant was the only unidentified person to die on that date. I pulled the death certificates of all adult males who passed away on the day of the attack. There were two others—both elderly Luturnans. Call me suspicious, but I don’t think the lack of species identification is an oversight.”

“I don’t suppose there was a delay in cremation?”

“Oh, no. They were quite efficient in that regard. In other news, I received an alert. A massive solar storm is coming. Korsan has ordered all employees out of the building within two hours. A lot of people have left already.” She’d peeked outsideher office. The way people poured toward the boosters reminded her of a school fire drill.

“I wondered why my computer system kept going in and out. I didn’t get an alert though.”

“It came a few minutes ago. Your alerts are routed to me. I’m your admin assistant, remember?”