Assistant.
The woman’s chocolate chip–pinstriped suit jacket hugged her narrow waist, fanned out ever so slightly to caress her hips, and the above-the-knee-length skirt showcased the legs of a dancer—long, lean, perfectly formed and strong. She seemed to instinctively know one from the other and extended her hand to Mia.
“Ms. Turner. I’m Brenda Forde. I believe we’ve met via phone.” She directed intense honey-colored eyes at Mia, all the more disconcerting because of their lightness against her flawlessly brown skin and the fierceness that hovered in them.
Real or contacts, Mia wondered in a comedic moment.
“Yes. We have met, haven’t we? Always good to put a face with a voice.” She released the butter-soft hand and turned to Ashley. “This is my executive assistant and business manager, Ashley Temple.”
Ashley extended her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Brenda gave a short nod of her head. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you settled in the small conference room. Michael...Mr. Burke is on a business call. As soon as he’s done, he’ll join us.”
There goes that us again, Mia thought. She smiled and followed Brenda down the short hallway and was led to a room with, unfortunately, a glass door and walls.
“Please make yourselves comfortable. Would you like something to drink while you wait?”
“Some water for me,” Mia said.
“Water is fine,” Ashley added.
“I’ll be right back.” She picked up a remote from the table and pointed it at a television mounted onto the wall. The CNN studio filled the screen. “Michael likes CNN,” Brenda said with a smile that held a challenge.
“I remember,” Mia tossed back, unable to help herself and secretly delighted in seeing Ms. Executive Assistant flinch before she walked out.
“Meow, meow,” Ashley sang. “At least let me know when to duck out of the way of the claws. What was that about?”
Mia quickly gave her the rundown of her earlier conversation with Brenda.
“You think they’re seeing each other?”
Mia gave a slight shrug. “If not, she certainly wants to. Not that it’s any of my business,” she added quickly.
Ashley bit back a smile.
Mia reluctantly pulled her glasses out of her purse. She took a good look around the room. The conference table took up most of the space, surrounded by eleven chairs, five on each side and one at the head. Two computer stations braced one wall. With her growing knowledge of electronics and technology, she noted that there were microphones built into the table, which let her know that conversations here were recorded. The wall panel that controlled the television also controlled the screen that could be lowered from the ceiling. She was pretty sure it included teleconferencing, which would account for the video camera in the back of the room.
Her instincts told her this room was used for meetings much more sensitive than who would be the next R & B star, which gave her even more reason to want to tap it. What solidified her resolve was the camera that she’d spotted hidden between the panels on the wall. It was no bigger than a quarter and to those who were none the wiser it looked like an imperfection in the wall. A hidden camera would certainly limit what she could get away with in this room. The ideal situation would be to find Avante’s control room.
Mia glanced toward the door. Brenda and Michael were coming in. Mia couldn’t miss the adoring look that Brenda gave Michael as he held the door open for her. Mia took off her glasses and returned them to her purse.
Ashley stole a look in Mia’s direction as the doors swung open.
“Mia.” Michael came right to her, braced her shoulders and kissed her cheek. “Had to bring backup, huh,” he teased, whispering in her ear. He stepped back and looked her in the eye, as if she was the only person in the room.
Mia swallowed over the tightness in her throat. The intoxicating scent of him momentarily clouded her thoughts. “Michael, my executive assistant, Ashley Temple.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Temple,” he said, finally focusing on something other than Mia. He shook Ashley’s hand, then turned back to Mia. “Would you prefer to talk here or over lunch?”
“Here is fine. Ashley has prepared a PowerPoint presentation for our proposal. Then we can have lunch. If that works for you.” She smiled sweetly.
“Not a problem.”
Ashley took the printed copies out of the leather folder she carried, along with the CD of the presentation. She handed out the literature.
Mia’s heart pounded. She hoped that Michael would allow them to use the computer to run the program and not just the projector.
“All this technology is not my thing,” Michael admitted. “That’s Brenda’s area of expertise.” He tossed his hands up in the air in a gesture of exasperation.
“Is your computer linked to the video screen?” Mia asked.
“Of course. I’ll get you set up.” Brenda went to one of the computers and turned it on. She lowered the lights then depressed a button on the wall panel and the screen descended. “You can load your CD.”
Ashley went to the computer and inserted the CD.
Mia’s heart was pounding. If there was one glitch in the program that she’d embedded on the CD, they were toast. After Ashley had completed the PowerPoint proposal, Mia had volunteered to put it on the CD. Later that evening, Mia wrote a code—with the help of Jasmine at Cartel headquarters—that would track the activities of the computer and was activated when the PowerPoint was shown.
What it gave Mia the opportunity to do was look inside the computer files in addition to mirroring every keystroke.
The screen filled with MT Management’s logo and its tagline, “Your dream event is our reality.”
For about ten seconds the screen froze then flickered. Mia held her breath. Jasmine had warned her about this and advised her not to panic. She’d been meticulous about entering the code. She’d gone over it three times to be sure she’d typed in the correct HTML string.
The first screen finally opened and Mia exhaled as Ashley’s voice gave the text and images verbal support.
While everyone was engrossed in the presentation, Mia felt around inside her tote bag, which she held on her lap beneath the table, and unzipped her “go bag”—her little carryall that held some of her tools of the trade. It looked like a makeup pouch. She felt around for the recording disk that looked like an eye-shadow pot. She had to unscrew the cap and lift the disk out. It was no bigger than a dime and nearly slipped from her fingers. One side was sticky and would adhere to any surface, virtually inconspicuous. She pressed the sticky side underneath the table, felt it to be sure it was secure then dropped the circular pot back into her go bag.
Ashley had about three more minutes. Mia began to breathe a little easier.
“I’m impressed,” Michael said when the screen went blank.
Brenda
