The sight meeting her eyes when she pulled open the door had her fascinated. Qasim was in the outer room leaning against the fireplace mantel and looking quite at home in his trousers and partially buttoned shirt. His bare feet and the mug he held lent to the “at home” look.
What held her stunned, though, was the sight of Charlotte seated on one of the chaise longues. The woman was in a fit of giggles over whatever had just come out of Qasim’s mouth. Vectra gave an awkward wave when they noticed her standing in the doorway, clothed in the sheet she’d tied in a sarong about her body.
Laughter curving to a sly smile, Charlotte left the lounge chair and gave Vectra a teasing once-over.
“Good morning.” Charlotte’s greeting was quiet and meaningful as she strode from the room.
“Guess the cat’s out of the bag,” Qasim said once he’d drained the contents of his mug.
She blurted the first question that came to mind. “Why’d you spend the night?”
He didn’t look pleased. “You know why. I told you why.”
Vectra trudged out into the room. “We need to talk.”
“Love to—” his eyes raked her body appreciatively “—but I need to get going.” He appeared slightly repentant. “I didn’t mean to spill the beans to Charlotte, but I didn’t want to leave before you woke up.”
Vectra surveyed her attire, knowing it was far from appropriate, but she could waste no more time. He needed to hear what she had to say before he left for the office.
Qasim placed his mug to the mantel. Closing the distance between him and Vectra, he scooped her up, sheets and all.
“Sim...” She sighed in response to the slow, thorough kiss he treated her to.
“I’ll be back,” he murmured against her mouth and then pulled back just a tad to observe her attire. “Could I request this outfit?”
She clutched his shirt. “Sim, please? I really need to talk to you.”
Qasim dropped a quick, pacifying kiss to the corner of her mouth. He let her ease down the length of him until her feet reached the floor. “When I get back, okay? I already put in my dinner request with the cook staff.” He winked, hoping the gesture masked his worry and reluctance to hear her tell him that she wasn’t ready or able to commit to the relationship he very much wanted to share with her.
Vectra watched him return to the bedroom, where he hunted down his socks and shoes.
“I need to talk to you about Will,” she said, watching as he tied his second loafer. “Will Lloyd,” she unnecessarily clarified, swallowing when he stilled and shifted his black gaze to her.
“What about Will Lloyd?”
His question sounded soft, stilted. Vectra rubbed at her eyes in an attempt to stop their rapid blinking. When she looked up again, he was right before her.
“What did he say to you?”
Qasim had apologized to Will for ordering him not to speak or even look at Vectra. He knew, though, that there was someplace deep and dark inside him where the apology hadn’t quite rung true. “What’d he say, Vectra?”
“Nothing—”
“Vectra,” he snarled.
She winced, but wasn’t about to lose her nerve when she’d already said so much. Besides, it was too important to back down from.
“He didn’t say anything to me. It was Minka.”
Somehow Qasim’s scowl increased in menacing potency. His reaction was Vectra’s only hint that he’d heard what she’d said.
“She wouldn’t tell me what he said to her specifically, but she’s got reason to believe Will’s been...helping himself to foundation money. She says she can prove it. Will suspects she knows. I–I don’t know what he’s threatening to do if she said anything to you so...” She stretched her lips in an awkward smile and shrugged. “She came to me.”
Qasim shook his head in a way that signified he’d heard enough. He turned, buttoning his shirt while stalking the room for keys, which had slipped from his trouser pockets the night before. Locating them, he left the room without another word to Vectra.
Chapter 16
“Sim? Man, you wanted to see me?”
Qasim looked up from the folder he’d been studying and tilted his head back slightly to acknowledge Will Lloyd’s greeting.
“Have a seat,” he called.
“Sorry I’m late.” Will made his way to the lounge area of Qasim’s office. “Didn’t realize running a charity required so much number crunching. It’s a good thing I’m a math freak.” He grinned. “But that’s probably why it’s so easy for me to lose track of time when I get goin’ with something.”