Unauthorized

Chapter 2: Business

"She's young," he said, annoyed by the stir of attraction rising in him and trying to create some mental distance as he skimmed the notes.

Tchernov shrugged. "Something of a prodigy, by all accounts."

"Your reservations?" Andrés prompted.

"She's a complete wild card. I can't figure out what motivates her. Her salary is shitty and she has several reprimands from what I could gather. Nothing keeping her at the Commission and several reasons to leave, but she stays. She'd be difficult to control and her government connection makes her a risk."

Pursing his lips, Andrés considered the profile a moment longer. "See what else you can find out." He couldn't risk having his careful plans upended, but Hayes seemed to be the most promising option yet. "This one is a step in the right direction. If you can't find another candidate we could approach with more certainty, we'll try her. There has to be something she wants enough to keep her mouth shut."

"On it, boss." Tchernov saw himself out of Andrés' office.

Sighing, Andrés stood to look out the window behind him. London lay spread below, stone and steel and glass in a contrast of visual textures next to the dull ribbon of the Thames under cloudy skies. With a view like this, it would be easy for a man to believe he'd succeeded in his ambitions.

He frowned. He had climbed higher than the boy he'd been had ever dreamed possible, but it wasn't enough. He still hungered.

For all he'd intended to run a legitimate business, he was certain he could manage London's underworld better than Imogen had since he'd left. She was fumbling opportunities and making enemies, wasting everything he'd once helped her build before seeing her for the petty tyrant she really was, getting out, and going legitimate.

Disgusted by the entire situation, Andrés threw himself back into his chair. "Get your mind back in the game, Marin," he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples. "You don't have time for this."

He had two meetings to attend and three reports to review before the end of the day, plus one to submit. Then it was over to Perdition, the shithole strip club and bar where he did his off-the-record work, to fulfill his secondary role as an information broker for a couple of hours before meeting Zoë Lefevre for dinner.

Zoë. Andrés didn't like the woman, but bedding the London Dockmaster kept her in his pocket and more amenable to his suggestions than bribes alone. Business was booming and he had a few delicate shipments that would benefit from being overlooked at customs. If he played sugar daddy a little longer, she'd help him with that.

***

"I need another ten," Zoë said, lower lip pushed out in the pout he knew she thought was cute.

Andrés put his fork down, glancing around at the crowded restaurant. No-one was close enough to hear. "We'll talk about it later," he replied.

"But -"

"Later," Andrés insisted. Zoë stuck her lip out further before taking another bite of chicken. What could she possibly need another ten thousand pounds for, on top of the fifteen I already gave her?

They finished their meal with talk of the shipping industry and left. Zoë skimmed a hand down his flank to grip his cock through his jeans as they waited for a taxi.

Andrés sighed inwardly. Normally, he liked knowing he was desired but this was just so...desperate. It wasn't him she wanted, at least not as much as she wanted his money. He knew that, accepted it as part of doing business and keeping his shipments moving with increased efficiency and minimal inspection, but the artifice grated.