she’d left. Miguel must have told the managing partner when she’d headed to the elevator.
She’d done that quickly—right after turning down his assignment. But had she left the door open to something else? To something more personal than politics?
Or had she only been joking? He’d been so stunned that she might have accepted his sexual proposition that he hadn’t moved fast enough to stop her from leaving his office. And by the time his dick had settled down enough for him to move, he’d rushed into the hall to find her already gone.
Then Miguel had redirected him here—to Simon’s office where Ronan and Stone waited for him along with the managing partner. They must have all come here after they’d left his meeting.
Simon’s office was very similar to Trev’s with the tall windows, exposed brick and long conference table. Simon also had a leather couch along one of the interior walls.
Trev didn’t have any comfy furniture in his. He was usually too restless when he was working to sit down and relax. Simon wasn’t the type to relax, either. But according to office gossip, he didn’t use that couch for taking naps.
Maybe Trev needed a couch like that. He could have taken Allison there. Hell, he could have taken Allison on the conference table. Or standing up.
But Trev always took no for an answer.
While Ronan and Stone sat around that conference table, drinking from the mugs of coffee they’d brought from his office, Simon sat at his desk. He studied his computer monitor through narrowed eyes as if he was trying to find something. Or someone...
“I didn’t make her disappear,” Simon said. “Allison McCann never appeared in the first place, at least not until she started her PR firm seven years ago. No birth certificate. No social security number. No nothing.”
She’d certainly felt real in his office—in his arms...
Trev paced in front of the windows that looked out onto Midtown. He glanced down at the street, but he was too high to see any people clearly. Still, if she was down there, he would have noticed her. With her bright red hair and pale skin, she would have been recognizable from any distance.
“So what do you think?” Ronan asked Simon. “Did she create herself when she created her company?”
Simon leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Maybe she’s not an ice princess at all,” he mused. “Maybe she’s a robot.”
She was definitely flesh and blood—all very hot flesh and blood. But Trev wasn’t ready to admit to his partners that he’d kissed the mole.
Trev shook his head. “She’s not a robot.”
Simon sighed. “Then I have no idea what she is or where she came from.”
Trev had no doubt that she was real. “What are you thinking?” he asked Ronan, who’d brought up that she’d created herself. Why would she have done that? “Do you think it’s just a PR stunt?”
Ronan shrugged. “A person who’s all about image might have set out to create one for herself.”
“I hope that’s all it is and not the ultimate con,” Simon said. The former con artist was probably beating himself up thinking he had missed a con. “I should have checked her out better.” His face was tight with self-recrimination.
“You checked out her firm,” Trev reminded him. “Hers was the best.” Or Simon wouldn’t have hired her.
“But who the hell is she?” Simon said. “And why would she suddenly turn on us like she has?”
Trev wondered that, too. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re not having doubts now, are you?” Simon asked. “She didn’t already get to you, did she?”
She’d gotten to him—physically. Trev wanted her like he couldn’t remember wanting anyone else in a hell of a long time. “No doubts that she’s the mole,” Trev said. He was even more certain now that he was right. “What doesn’t make sense is why she agreed to work for us in the first place with how she feels about lawyers.”
He focused on Stone, who’d been curiously silent this whole time. He was the one who’d been with Trev when she’d made that comment. And now she’d made one about her dislike of another profession.
Simon asked, “What about your plan? Did she take the bait?”
Trev shook his head. “No, she hates politicians more than she hates lawyers.”
Simon expelled a ragged breath. “What the hell is her deal?”
“I don’t know.” But Trev was more determined than ever to find out.
Stone cleared his throat. “Bellows isn’t Hillary’s real last name,” he said.
Trev and the other partners turned to him in surprise. He’d never mentioned that before. Hillary was an ambitious assistant district attorney. They’d never even suspected her of being the mole. What reason could she have had for changing her name? “Really?”
Stone nodded then he glanced at Simon. “You wouldn’t be able to find any birth certificate for Hillary Bellows. She took her mother’s maiden name.”
“Why?” Trev asked. “Is her father a criminal and, as a DA, she didn’t want to be associated with him?”
Stone shook his head. “Just the opposite. He’s someone very rich and very important and she didn’t want special treatment because of her real last name.”
Ronan snorted. “I doubt that would be the case for a publicist. If her father’s famous, she would undoubtedly use that to her advantage.”
But Trev wondered.
While Allison McCann didn’t have any problem delivering their press releases, she was careful so that she was never any part of the story herself.
Simon tapped the keys on his computer. “So if Allison took her mother’s maiden name...”
“How are you going to find her real name?” Stone asked him. “I had no idea who Hillary really was until she told me.”
Simon cursed.
“I’ll find out,” Trev assured them.
“How?” Simon asked. “You said she didn’t take the bait.”
Not that bait. But she’d given him another opening—when she’d kissed him back.
“I’m not giving up after just one shot,” Trev said. Or one kiss.
“We don’t just need to know who she is, though. We need to get evidence against her in order to bring her down like she tried bringing down Street Legal,” Simon said.
The others nodded in agreement.
Trev might have found another way in—literally. But he wasn’t about to share that with any of his friends yet. “I’m not
