Page 14 of His Improper Lady

She went up the stairs, and one of Falk’s men let her through to his office. Falk was bent over a ledger on his desk, and he looked up at the sound of her entrance. His clothes and his place were a bit nicer than of old, his hair liberally streaked with gray and his girth more fat than muscle now, but he was still the same Falk—same dark flat gaze and bitter slash of a mouth. So full of lies that she barely had to tap her power to see all the black outlines overlying Falk again and again. As if she was looking at his image in a refracting prism.

“Desiree!” he said in a false tone of good cheer, his lips twisting into a smile. “Ready to come back yet? Lots of money to be made.”

“By you,” Desiree retorted.

“I’d give you a better cut now, of course.”

“Better than nothing? Impressive.”

“Now, I always let you have some of the baubles,” he said in a wheedling tone.

Desiree snorted. “Enough to buy more food than the gruel you gave us.” Sad to say, Desiree knew she and Wells had been treated better than some of the others. At least he had refrained from beating them, since sore bruises and broken bones would interfere with their work. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t scum. You still are.”

Falk scowled, slamming his palm down on his desk. “I rescued you. You’d have starved if I hadn’t taken you in.”

“You took Brock from us! You knocked him over the head and threw him on a boat to Australia!”

He opened his hands and swept them out, palms up. “And look where it got him.”

“You’re saying you did him a favor?” Desiree wanted to jump across the desk at Falk and take him by the throat. But there was nothing to be gained by railing at him. The man had no conscience; he would never feel guilt over what he had done. She pushed down her anger and said tightly, “I’m not coming back, Falk.”

He grimaced, but he dropped the subject. “Did you get the letter?”

“No. Quick came in on me, and I barely got away. Why didn’t you warn me that he watched the place at night?”

“I didn’t know. You can’t expect me to do your work for you,” Falk retorted. “Go back.”

“I searched most of it, and I don’t think the envelope is there. The only things I didn’t check were some old files.”

“If it’s not there, go to the Morelands’ house. I know they have it.”

“Well, you’ll have to find someone else to get it for you. I quit.”

“You can’t quit.” Falk glared at her in the way that had always struck fear in her heart when she was a child, his eyes piercing and cruel, his lips drawing back, like a dog about to attack. “I’m not giving you your father’s name until you bring me that envelope.”

“That look doesn’t scare me anymore, Falk.” Desiree was pleased to realize that her words weren’t a lie. The scrawny little girl had trembled before him, but the present Desiree felt nothing but contempt. “And your bribe won’t work, either. I already know my father was a Moreland.”

Falk’s eyebrows shot up, confirming her theory, but he covered his surprise quickly. “Ah...but which one?”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

TOM MANAGED TO extricate himself from the clutches of the bobby. Fortunately, he was dressed like a gentleman tonight, which made the policeman more inclined to believe his story that he was struggling with a woman who’d tried to steal his wallet. But by the time he did so, Desiree was long gone, and there was no hope of finding her, so he returned to the office.

Tom didn’t think even someone as brash as Desiree would attempt to break in again tonight, but he slept in the office, just in case. He’d slept in places a lot less comfortable. Still, he had trouble going to sleep. He kept thinking about the events of the evening. About Desiree.

He found that she was on his mind when he woke up the next morning, as well. He was torn between chagrin at losing her—again—and a sneaking admiration for her cleverness. Tom was not a man to take defeat well, but somehow her outwitting him made his attraction to her all the more compelling.

She was a challenge. She was a mystery. He had lived much of his life around the women of the Moreland family—intelligent, independent women who frequently broke the rules. They had, he supposed, formed his image of an ideal woman. It seemed cruelly ironic that when he finally stumbled upon a woman who was as fascinating and unique, as unconventional, even outrageous, she would turn out to be his adversary.

Unfortunately, that adversary currently had the upper hand. She knew about him now, and she would be very careful not to let him follow her again. In fact, if he was able to follow her, it was all too likely to mean that she was leading him into a trap. But he couldn’t think of a way to draw her out, to get her to come to him. He had no idea what it was she was after.

He knew where she lived. He could confront her, but he had no idea how he could make her tell him what he wanted to know. There was, however, a possibility that he could negotiate with her. He was positive she was working for hire. Desiree was professional enough to realize that she was unlikely to be able to filch anything from the office now that Tom was on guard.

If she couldn’t produce what the employer wanted, she was unlikely to get paid. So if Tom offered her money to reveal who had hired her and what that person wanted, she might be willing to do it. Of course, it was just as likely, if not more so, that she might not.

Still, it would be worth a try. Of course, he’d have to get her to talk to him long enough to hear his offer. That could be a problem.