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Genevieve’s eyebrows rose.
“She’s joking,” Vegas said swiftly. “There is a client issue we need to discuss with Diadora urgently.”
Genevieve gave a curt nod and pushed back from her desk. “I’ll see if she can spare you a few moments.”
“That would be great.” Vegas watched her tap on the office door and enter, shutting it behind her. “Don’t mention the fighting between Boros and Solan,” she said to Heather. “Let’s stick to the basics. Boros overstepped the mark and made unwanted advances toward me.”
Heather nodded. “I’ll let you do the talking. What are you going to say about Solan’s involvement, though?”
Vegas chewed on her bottom lip. “I’ll say Solan was passing and stepped in to help.”
“Will she believe that?”
“It’s doubtful. Diadora double-checks my reports. Anyone would think she didn’t like me.”
“Don’t take it personally,” Heather said. “I get the impression Diadora has been long overdue getting laid.”
Vegas sniggered. “I’m sure she could pull a few strings if that was the problem. There are plenty of desperate aliens out there.”
“She probably doesn’t even realize that’s what’s wrong,” Heather said. “You can tell when you’ve been in the matchmaking business for as long as we have. She’s got that uptight, clenched butt look going on.”
“I don’t think she clenches her butt on purpose,” Vegas said. “It’s because she does about a thousand squats a day. I bet if you touched one of her cheeks, they’d feel like steel. No one’s butt should be that pert.”
“Maybe she’s also got a cyborg butt,” Heather whispered, “or she’s had cheek implants.”
“We can talk to her about her beauty routine, rather than trying to conceal the fact two Galaxars want to fight to the death.”
“Don’t forget, they’re doing that because you’re the prize,” Heather said.
Vegas’s humor died. “We’ll stick to the facts. I doubt Boros or Solan will want this reported. They want to carry out their ridiculous challenge to each other. If Diadora finds out what’s going on, she’ll put a stop to it. She wants to keep the agency’s reputation clean, just the same as us.”
The office door opened, and Genevieve stepped out. “Diadora will see you now.”
Vegas pulled her shoulders back, determined not to show how intimidated she felt. She’d been in Diadora’s office dozens of times, but every time she entered, she felt as if she was going to be reprimanded. She often was.
The office was white. Every single thing in it was white, from the flooring to the cup sitting on Diadora’s desk. Vegas always felt the need to check the soles of her boots to make sure she wasn’t walking in any dirt.
“You have a problem?” Diadora was never one for small talk. She continued to scan the screen in front of her.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” Vegas said.
Diadora’s dark gaze flicked to her. “Whenever I hear those words come out of your mouth, the opposite is true. What have you done this time?”
“Two Galaxars have challenged each other to a battle.” Vegas kept her tone level.
“Fighting is not permitted on board the space station.”
“I made them aware of that. They are still keen to continue.”
“Did you tell them they would be breaching their conditions if they did so?”
“I did.”
“That did not change their mind?”
“They seem determined to fight.”
“What are they fighting over?”
