It had become immediately obvious that Petrov Armor took its security seriously. No way were these systems ignored until the news report yesterday. They were too ingrained, too second nature as he watched employees without hesitation card in and out of not just the building, but also any sensitive areas. He’d noticed the security cameras around the outside of the building, but they were inside, too. Whoever was behind the defective products knew how to get around all of it. Either that or the company’s own security would be what ultimately brought them down.
Making a mental note to ask to see some of the camera footage from when the defective armor had been made, Davis pasted on a smile as he was introduced to yet another employee.
“Davis, this is Theresa Quinn, head of research and development at Petrov Armor. Theresa, this is my new assistant, Davis Rogers.”
Leila’s voice hadn’t wavered through any of the introductions and none of her employees seemed to have picked up on anything strange, but he could feel her discomfort. She didn’t like lying to them. He hoped she wouldn’t break down and tell anyone who he really was.
He’d have to stick close to her. He already needed to pretend to work with her if he wanted to keep his access to Petrov Armor. But a CEO with a conscience was both good and bad. Good because if he was right and she really wasn’t involved, then Melinda was right, too. Leila would want the truth, even if she didn’t want it to get out. Bad because lying obviously didn’t come easily for her.
“What happened with those FBI agents?” Theresa demanded, with the tone of someone who’d been around a long time and held a position of power. It was also a tone that held a bit of irreverence, as though she was Leila’s equal instead of her employee.
Davis looked Theresa over more closely. Wearing jeans and a blouse with the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and reddish-brown hair knotted up in a messy bun, Theresa’s attire made her seem younger than the crinkles around her eyes suggested. Davis pegged her at close to fifty. He wondered if the aura of confidence and authority she radiated was just age and position, or if she had more sway at Petrov Armor than the average head of R and D.
Leila visibly stiffened at Theresa’s question, and Davis made a mental note that the two women didn’t like each other.
“Like I said earlier, everything is fine,” Leila answered.
Theresa’s eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. It wasn’t our armor.”
“Do we know whose it was?” There was still suspicion in Theresa’s voice, but it was overridden by curiosity. “Because that’s going to take out some of the competition.”
Davis tensed at her callous comment, but he kept his body language calm and eager, like he imagined a new assistant would act.
“The FBI isn’t going to share that kind of thing,” Leila replied. She turned toward Davis. “Let me introduce you to our head of sales.” Then she called across the open concept main office area. “Eric!”
The man who turned toward them looked about his and Leila’s age. With blond hair gelled into perfect place and dark blue eyes almost the exact shade as his suit, he looked like a head of sales. But as he walked toward them, his gaze landing briefly on Davis before focusing entirely on Leila, all Davis could see was a man with a crush.
Probably betraying her company wasn’t the way to win the woman over. Unless Leila hadn’t returned his affection and Eric wanted revenge.
As Eric reached their side, his attention still entirely focused on Leila as if no one else was there, Davis stuck his hand in the man’s path. “Davis Rogers, Leila’s new assistant.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed slightly with his assessing gaze, but he offered a slightly less than genuine smile and held out his hand. “Eric Ross. Head of sales.” His hand closed a little too tightly around Davis’s as he added, “I’m glad Leila finally got an assistant. She works too much. You make sure she takes it easy.”
Before Davis could reply—or even figure out how to reply to that—Eric had dropped his hand and turned his attention back to Leila. His voice lowered slightly as he added, “Your dad was just like a father to me, too, Leila. You know you can talk to me.” He put his hand on Leila’s upper arm, comforting but a little too familiar. “No one is going to think less of you if you take time off to grieve.”
Leila shrugged free with a stiff nod and a slight flush. She cleared her throat, ducking her head momentarily. Her voice wavered just slightly as she answered, “I know he was, Eric. Thank you.”
Davis glanced between them, wondering at their history, as Theresa interjected with less emotion, “We all miss your father. He was a great CEO and a great guy.” Then she walked away, leaving Davis to wonder if her comment had been meant as sympathy or a subtle dig at Leila’s leadership.
Based on the way Eric scowled after Theresa, he thought it was a dig. Davis studied him a little closer. His history with Leila and her family obviously went back a long time. If Neal Petrov was like a father to Eric, maybe the man had let him in on his secrets. Or had him help make a little more money off the books.
Before Davis could ponder that, a man came hurrying across the office, making a beeline for Leila. Probably midfifties, with dark brown hair and light blue eyes, he looked like a younger, more handsome version of the man Davis had studied in pictures just that morning. It had to be Neal Petrov’s younger brother, Joel.
As soon as he reached them, the man gripped Leila by her upper
