Page 4 of Sasha’s Secret

At the other end of the phone, there was an indistinct sound of mild irritation. “Sash, that ain’t your job any more, honey. You’re a secretary now.”

Now she had two more reasons to punch his ever-loving lights out. No one called her “Sash”, and as for honey… Actually, it was three reasons, because she was nobody’s secretary, either, no matter what her job description said.

As she ended the call, Sasha’s mind drifted back almost two years, to the meeting that had set her on her present course.

“I know she’s a brat—hell, the whole world’s seen it on social media—but she’s…” Her supervisor shrugged.

“Family. I get it. I’ll watch out for her.”

He nodded, relief all over his face. “Her manager’s in on this, too—or will be when I call him. You ever find anything that doesn’t seem right, talk to him, and we’ll take it from there. You okay with all of this?”

“Sure. It’s a win-win, right? You have someone to keep an eye on your goddaughter, and I don’t have to prep a résumé and attend a bunch of interviews to get a job.”

Logically, it had made sense. The time had come for her to leave the Agency, but letting go hadn’t been so easy, in spite of her emotional state at the time. A decade and a half had given her a lot of memories, not all bad, and for all that time, her job had been her life. Taking on the role as Linzi Suto’s assistant had seemed like a good way to ease herself into civilian life—just as well she had, since they were now going to have a British ex-soldier prowling around.

Whatever the reasoning behind his recruitment, the guy was going to need a room in the staff wing. As she added a note to her growing to-do list, every professional instinct was telling Sasha to make sure the suite allocated to him was close to hers. She might have left the Agency behind, but she hadn’t forgotten her training. For all any of them knew, they could be letting a hit man take up residence, and Sasha had no intention of breaking the news to her former supervisor that some harm had come to Linzi on her watch.

Because like it or not, if the worst-case scenario became reality, Sasha would call on all her skills and expertise to ensure Linzi remained safe, no matter what—if anything—the Brit was bringing to the table.

And if necessary, if the Brit failed, and if even her skills and experience came up short, she still had some contacts she could call on who’d be more than happy to lend a helping hand.

Remembering the circumstances under which they’d first met, Sasha allowed herself a small smile. It was about time she caught up with those guys…

* * *

Every day since he’d arrived in Texas, Rocco’s preconceptions about the state had been challenged, but never more so than when he saw the sheer opulence of the mansion at the end of the winding, access-controlled road that led to the center of the twenty-acre riverside property. The place screamed wealth, and at a guess, was probably worth the kind of money he wouldn’t even see in a hundred lifetimes.

Rocco parked the Escalade in one of the marked spaces, alongside a handful of vehicles that included some premier European marques, including a Bugatti and a Lamborghini. They suited the Italianate appearance of the mansion, with its light, honey-cream walls and red-tiled roof. The irony wasn’t lost on him—he’d come all this way to escape his roots, only to be confronted by an environment drenched in their influence.

He’d been around too many wealthy clients to be impressed by ostentatious displays, but what did bring him up short was the sight of the woman with long, blonde hair emerging from the mansion’s portico. Every sense went on alert as she strolled in his direction, a stunning beauty in an ice-blue, button-up shirt and ivory slacks, and the living embodiment of his dreams from the first moment he’d seen her image.

In the flesh, Sasha Morgan was even more striking than the woman in his fantasies, from her hair glinting in the sunlight, to the graceful sway of her hips and the stylish heels that adorned her feet. His body responded on a primal level to each confident step that brought her closer to him, letting him know in no uncertain terms that it had no intention of giving up the fight for dominance. He exited the vehicle’s luxurious, air-conditioned interior, pulled on his jacket and rounded the front of the Escalade to meet her.

“Ms. Morgan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Rocco offered his hand in greeting.

Sasha took it in a cool, firm grip that echoed the confidence in her approach. “Mr. Equizi. Welcome to Casa Millefiori. Won’t you come in?”

He followed her inside. Impressions of space and light bombarded him, along with stone and wood, and the intrinsic coolness of marble. The interior was designed to a standard to match the exterior, a fact that was even easier to appreciate when they reached a plush office. By the way Sasha took up a position by the ivory leather executive chair behind the sleek desk with its state-of-the-art computer and invited him to take a seat, this was her territory.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Something cold, maybe?”

Although the drive hadn’t been too long and he’d made it in the comfort of the Escalade, Rocco wasn’t averse to the idea of “something cold”, given the American propensity for chilling cold drinks to absolute zero. “Water would be fine, thank you—if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all. Still or sparkling?”

“Still. Thank you.”

She crossed the room to retrieve two bottles of water from a well-stocked, glass-fronted undercounter refrigerator. She handed one to Rocco, took her place behind the desk, and promptly cracked open the bottle she’d retained, to take a sip straight from it. Rocco followed suit, welcoming the flow of icy liquid.

“Texas is too damn hot, even in winter.” Sasha replaced the bottle top.

“You’re not a native?” That item of data had been missing from the sparse information in her file.

She shook her head. “Army brat. I’ve moved around a lot all my life. Last place I lived was Virginia. I’m still more used to seeing snow in winter.”

Which could explain why he was having some difficulty pinning down her accent. He was no expert on all the variations, but some were easier to identify than others. “You weren’t tempted by a military career?”

“No. I was… drawn in another direction.”