“Uh, well…” Kage ran a sheepish hand over the back of his neck. “We looked her up during lunch.” Christ. Every employee at Harper Security was ex-military or ex-CIA, yet they gossiped like high schoolers. “She’s hot.” Kage sank into the chair opposite mine. “Somehow, I’m not surprised your girlfriend looks like a goddamned supermodel. It’s the charmed life of a billionaire CEO,” he added dryly.
