Embrace My Heart(2)

“Sim.” Minka laughed. “Great timing.”

Vectra turned, too. She wasn’t all that surprised to find Qasim Wilder wearing a dour expression, which he aimed directly at her. “Hey, Qasim,” she managed, albeit softly.

“Vectra.”

She could detect obvious surprise riddling Qasim’s deep, soft voice. An edgier quality tempered the sound, however, before he seemed to lose all interest and completely dismissed her.

Qasim moved with his trademark stealth. An asset honed by his years in the military. He extended a hand toward the other man.

“Sorry for the bother, man.” Grinning, Will heartily engaged in the handshake. “I need the go-ahead for a few things. Need your name on the line before I can move forward. Hotel people are some picky folk.”

“What’s up?” Qasim took the folder Will offered.

“Mostly pricing details. They want to know if I’m authorized to accept the quotes.”

“All right.” Qasim scanned the folder’s contents. “I’ll get this back to you soon.” He passed the file to Minka. “Let’s see about drafting a document for Will to have on hand as proof that I’ve given him the authority to make any decisions needed to organize this thing.”

Minka smiled at Will. “I’ll have the folder ready as soon as Sim has time to look it over. We’ll have to give you a call once legal draws up the signing doc, okay?” She looked to her boss for approval.

Qasim’s nod was confirmation enough and then he left the group.

Feeling thoroughly snubbed as he strolled off without another word, Vectra forbade herself from making one move. From the corner of her eye, she could almost see Minka and Will exchanging curious looks over Sim’s slight. She gave a start when a loud knock echoed out over the space.

Qasim had returned to the lobby and was looking at Vectra from where he’d dropped the loud knock against the wall that shielded the long corridor leading to his office suite.

“You coming?” he called.

Vectra heard no hospitality in the words, only tense patience. She watched his inky-black stare scanning the length of her and wondered whether Minka or Will could read their boss’s mind as easily as she did.

Apparently, they had noticed their boss’s agitation. They quickly left her side. Minka returned to her desk.

“Nice to meet you.” Will squeezed Vectra’s arm on his way past.

“Same here,” Vectra called to his departing figure.

She could have easily been amused by the sense of dread filling the area were she not the one caught in the crosshairs.

Qasim didn’t wait for her to reach him at the corner of the hallway. Instead, he headed on down the carpeted, portrait-lined space. Vectra attempted to assess his mood as he walked before her. Not that his icy manner in the lobby hadn’t been hint enough, but he acted like she’d been the one to go all antisocial when it’d been the other way around.

At any rate, it was no hardship to follow and observe him at a distance. Qasim’s love for outdoor activity was evident even beneath his standard suit-and-tie work attire. That day, a walnut-brown three-piece suit adorned his toned, licorice-dark frame.

They had been friends long enough for her to know that he hated ties. He usually discarded whichever one he wore either just before or right after lunch. The guy loved his comfort and the fact didn’t diminish the stunning craftsmanship of his body or face.

Bottomless dark eyes competed with the ebony richness of heavy brows and the sleep cap of hair he wore close cut. His facial hair was tamed into an intentional five o’clock shadow that partly hid a cleft chin and the faint lines that proved he was easy with his smiles.

Vectra blinked suddenly, at once regretting and realizing how much time she’d taken to admire the man’s face and form. The fact made her wonder whether she’d subjected any of her other male friends to such scrutiny. Doubtful. Her male friends were just that—just friends. Or, rather, they had been...until she met Qasim; he was a male friend she would have preferred become much more.

He opened one of the towering maple doors leading to his office. Vectra quickened her pace when she realized he was going to hold it for her as though she were an actual welcomed visitor. In spite of his polite manners, however, she could’ve sworn she picked up on a low yet distinctive sound of agitation. That sound rumbled through his chest when she passed him on her way into the room.

If ever there was an office that personified its owner, it’s Qasim’s, she thought.

The place was a testament to pretty much everything he held dear. One far, expansive corner was a hive of activity with wide-screen monitors broadcasting both financial and sports news from their perches atop a pair of pristine maple desks. Towering bookcases lined the room and were filled with pictures, plaques, awards and books spanning a range of genres. Above the cases nearest the desks was a stock ticker.