What followed her words was silence.
The small swerve of the car was the only sign that Dashiell had heard her.
And somehow, for some strange reason, that gave her the courage to continue.
“On his desk. In his own office. During working hours.” She fidgeted with the beads on her clutch. “With the door unlocked.”
There was a pause. The only sounds in the car were the low hum of the engine and the soft clinking of her beads.
Then Dashiell said, “Did they at least move the files first?”
The image of what she had seen flashed through Reign’s mind.
The lady, naked from the waist down, her butt raised high while her breasts spilt out of her top.
“The files…” she repeated, then stopped.
Wait a minute.
Why does he care about that?
Reign turned to look at him, only to find Dashiell’s fac
