Her voice cut across his fantasising and his back stiffened at the interruption. Who the fuck-
Her. Samira. Oh fuck, he'd forgotten all about her, leaving her in the building, waiting for him to be finished and give her a ride back home. John's jaw clenched and he turned his head to look at her, his eyes flicking to the laptop- the laptop-
Shit. She was looking right at the creative accounting he was performing to divert more of his political donations through a series of trusts to his personal accounts than should strictly be going there. And she not only was looking at it like she knew what she was looking at, but she was suggesting that he could... take more?
John stayed still, moving after a moment only to swallow the scotch that had been in his mouth. Samira was scrolling down, looking at more. "That's confidential information," he said, jerking out of his frozen state to walk over and shut the lid of the laptop. But then he said, "What makes you say that?" in response to her comment, his greed needling its way out.