Hired for secrets

The woman I desire

Sofie rejected Philip's olive branch. She did not need to build trust, all she needed was leverage. It's better to be feared than loved; it yields more consistent results. And with the hidden cameras placed in Philip's suite, coming across the right leverage was only a matter of time. That is, if they worked.

As soon as Sofie arrived back at her car she pulled out her phone to dial up the cameras. She stared anxiously at the black screen, while the dial was spinning to establish the connection. What if they didn't work? What if she did something wrong in her haste to install them? It would have all been for nothing! Worse, she would lose access to Philip for good. The thought of never talking to him again made her heart flutter, for more than just her professional reasons. Stop it right there! As a cold-blooded journalist, she relied on facts and technology. Emotions were an unnecessary distraction. As if to confirm her credibility and conviction, the camera connected and the screen came to life.

Music filled the inside of Sofie's car. Her phone was the window into Philip's room, and it relayed Damien Rice's voice singing 'No love, no glory. No hero in her skies'.

Philip was sitting in his armchair, swirling a brandy in his hand. He stared at the couch on which Sofie had moments ago experienced pure euphoria.

Log out! Philip's night is starting soon and you've got a long drive ahead of you.

Her thumb hovered over the disconnect button. But for some reason she found it difficult to let go. She could still feel his hands weaving their magic across her body. And she wanted to relive the feeling for just a moment longer.

The cameras are working, god dammit. No need to dwell.

The song continued, 'I can't take my eyes off you', as Sofie watched Philip take another sip of brandy and lean back. He rolled his head to the side and massaged the back of his neck; there was a tension in him that Sofie could feel all the way out to the parking lot. He was contemplating something.

Don't go there. Whatever he is thinking about is not your problem!

With a sigh Sofie pressed the dial-out button, just as the string instruments cut to their solo. She had to leave now if she wanted to be home in time for Philip's evening engagement.

She was already cutting it fine and the unusually bad traffic made her even later. All the way from the highway exit to her home she anguished over missing the talking part of the evening and logging into finding Philip and his client in bed already.

She slammed the front door shut, kicked off her shoes and connected to the hallway camera, just in time to see Philip walking in. He had changed into formal attire. A black suit, white shirt, buttoned up to the top, sharp and crisp. He looked exquisite and Sofie felt a little breathless. Or was that from running up two flights of stairs?

He would have been appropriately dressed for the opera or a gala dinner, yet all this splendor was to entertain the beautiful woman by his side. She was in her forties. An elegant white silk dress flowed over her long legs, and a low cut back revealed her toned body. Philip touched the small of her back as she walked through the door, lightly stroking her bare dusk-colored skin. She flicked her wavy black hair and smiled at him as soft piano music played from the bedroom. This scene could not have been more perfect if it was designed for a romantic bollywood movie.

Sofie's lips turned into a thin line. They looked absolutely stunning together. And even worse, she recognized the woman. It was Ms Hunt, a second generation Briton from Indian descent and the youngest CEO to run a $30 billion insurance company. She was rich, successful and ... not married.

"He plays music for her! He never did that for you!" a sore little voice whined in her head. With a firm shake she reminded herself that this was a job and that Philip's only value was as her informant.