‘His future wife was a spy and his sister a freaking hacker. If he found out that his college professor mother moonlighted as a stripper, he was going to lose his mind’...
We have to get out of this bed and get some clothes on or we’re both going to die of orgasm-induced dehydration.”
Waverly had rolled to her side and watched him approach. “God, you’re magnificent,” she sighed.
“Which one of us are you talking to?” he asked, glancing down at his still hard shaft.
“Bravo to both”.
“Angel, please get dressed so we can get this conversation over with.”
“And then what?”
“And then I’m undressing you again and keeping you that way for at least six or seven months.”
He heard her shift on the mattress and the sound of her pulling on clothes.
He turned around to find her pulling her hair up into a knot on the top of her head. Her nipples were visible through the soft white cotton of the t-shirt. He felt his c#$k move in appreciation.
“There’s got to be a parka or something in here,” he said, hurrying back into the closet. He found a sweatshirt, three sizes too big for her and hurled it in her direction.
She humored him and pulled it over her head. “Better?” she asked.
“Not really. Maybe it’s the bed. Let’s go back to the living room and sit on opposite ends of the couch.”
Bradley Archibald Tomasso, the youngest CEO in Target Productions’ history, had identified a unique need that the government’s intelligence gathering organisations shared, there were certain places that agents couldn’t get into but places that celebrities had access to, contract work, fact gathering intelligence from people in situations where they wouldn’t be seen as a threat. The income from the contracts padded the studio’s bottom line, and Dante and herself received a cut. The organisations they worked for were happy to farm out some of their case load.
“When you say ‘organizations,’ who do you mean exactly?”
“NSA, FBI, DIA, occasionally the CIA and the SEC.
The idea was actually fascinating, but the fact that his Angel was taking assignments from the intelligence community destroyed any objectivity he had. He was the first, to her knowledge, to have the foresight to double the studio’s income by farming out talent to intelligence gathering organisations on a contract basis.
He swiped a hand over his face. The love of his life was telling him she was a spy.
“How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I graduated. I have a good grasp of languages, so I do well with European and Russian targets.”
“When you say, ‘do well…’” he trailed off, not really wanting to know the answer.
“I’m not James Bonding my way through assets if that’s what you’re asking. It’s just the kids of weapons dealers have looser lips around drunk party girl movie stars. Or a mogul’s lonely daughter needs a new BFF. Occasionally, Dante and I double-teamed targets. We’ve hacked phones, searched private offices, gotten information out of coked up entrepreneurs with shady business dealings.”