Insecure by Ainslie Paton Read Free Book Online

Malcolm.
    It didn’t matter to him the world outside her doorstep had gone apocalyptic; he wanted a new strategy for dealing with the shareholder discontent and the failed takeover. He didn’t ask if she was concerned, unsettled, and he’d know precisely what was going on: he had a hotline to the mayor’s office. It wasn’t that she expected any consideration from him, but after seeing those faces: the mother cradling the limp, bloody body of a child, the man with one arm blown clean off, the bodies under cover outside the front door, Malcolm’s lack of basic human compassion was harder than usual to take.
    And so was Jay’s overbearing clinginess. The only thing she wanted to do was go rescue Mace. She could see him on the foyer security camera sitting on the floor, one shoe off, his head tipped back, trying no doubt to wish the day away. If she could have her way there’d be no explosions, no terror threat, Jay would go home and stay there, Malcolm would fuck off, and she’d coerce Mace back to bed. None of that was easily doable.
    She’d dispense with Jay as soon as they worked out the details for a marathon victims relief fund. Next to Malcolm, Jay was one of the richest men in the country. Unlike Malcolm, he believed in philanthropy. She’d match Jay dollar for dollar from her own account and despite the fact it was Saturday he’d have it set up, staffed and working by tomorrow. They could be assessing needs and dispensing money by Monday, when she’d have the marketing department look into sponsoring whatever was needed to rebuild the credential of the marathon.
    She needed a clearer head, twenty minutes and one definitive email to fuck Malcolm off. But it might take her the rest of the morning to coach Mace out of the foyer. He hadn’t attempted to buzz the apartment. He disliked her, but she couldn’t leave him there.
    She thought she’d been so wise in choosing him. The quiet, deadly smart one. The one who didn’t give a hoot for office politics, professional status, or playing the power game. She’d known who she was dealing with. He was a code whizz, a tech genius, always one step away from being officially reprimanded for not following protocol, but too much of an asset for anyone to bother taking on.
    She liked how his brain worked. She couldn’t help but be attracted to him physically. He was straight out of some men’s extreme sport magazine, all tight muscle and spare hips, shoulders that could hold the world up and eyes that gave you nothing, but the kicker, the deal sealer, was that he didn’t care who she was, or what she could do for him, and that was a rare and precious commodity.
    She’d even bated him about that and got the fringe of his temper to show.
    All that about Mace, the shock of the explosion, and the frustrations of the day had been enough to tempt her out of her self-imposed sexual exile and proposition him. She’d fully expected to be going home alone then avoiding the tower, the floor he worked on for months.
    But he was a mistake, a giant writhing, seething lake of blunder, not because he could talk, start any number of truths and rumours, but because when he touched her he made her think another life was possible. A life outside work.
    And that was ridiculous. That was the unrelenting pressure, the sheer loneliness she felt whenever she had time to stop. Her career was unhealthy. But it was a small price to pay. The board would force Malcolm to name his successor by the end of the year, and assuming they got past yesterday’s disaster the company would be hers. She’d be the youngest CEO of a national bank, one of only four women leading a top one hundred listed company. The triumph of that ambition was worth every twisted hint of lonely, every twinge of sexual frustration. And it was certainly worth reminding herself that Mason Lauder was a one night stand.
    So why did she care if he was