Rania Algafari never asked to be different, and when she escaped the war in Syria and moved to the UK, her only goal was to live her life in peace. Get up, go to work, avoid talking to the dead - that sort of thing.
But not everyone dies quietly, an...
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Rania Algafari. I'd read her personnel file, thin though it was, and even looked at the fuzzy photo that accompanied it, but nothing prepared me for meeting the girl herself. Woman, I should say. There was nothing childlike about the curves hidden under her clothing, although she still managed to project a strange innocence that made me want to beat every other man away with a stick.
And she was nervous.
Whether from meeting me or due to the recent events at Daylesford Hall, I couldn't tell, but every time she swallowed, my eyes fixed on the delicate lines of her neck.
Between her jeans, her dark-red polo neck, and the shapeless cardigan she wore, almost every inch of skin was covered, yet she still managed to be more attractive than any other female in the building. No make-up, and her thick brown hair, so dark it was almost black, was tied back without any ceremony. The only nod to decoration was the necklace she wore, an abstract gold piece on a chain that she tucked inside her top when she saw me looking at it. After that, she kept her eyes fixed on the table, and I wanted to wind my fist around that plait and force her head up to meet my gaze.
My cock began twitching the moment she sat down, which was totally inappropriate.
Behave, Lawson.
Even though the police had already cleared her, and I'd read about her alibi in the file RJ had liberated for me, I asked her questions anyway because I wanted to hear her talk. Those lips. Thick and full, I could imagine them...
Fuck, now she was staring at me. Say something else, Will.
"So, what did you think of Helene?"
"Back when she was alive?"
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Rania's brow crinkled, and the light caught on the dark circles under her eyes. Tired. She was tired and struggling to think straight, and I felt bad for taking up her time when she still had work to do. But not so bad that I stopped questioning her. Then she insulted me without meaning to, and bastard that I was, I pushed her to confess she'd caught Anthony watching porn one evening. Jacking off, if her disgusted expression was any indication. Disgusted by the act itself, or because it was Anthony and he was an alcoholic prick?
My gaze drifted down to her hands. No ring on her finger. Did she have a boyfriend? Surely she must. Which meant I shouldn't have been imagining the little gasp she might give if I kissed her senseless, then...
"Aren't we supposed to be discussing Helene Weston?" she asked.
Discussing Helene was the last thing I wanted to do, especially with a girl who was way at the bottom of the list of suspects, but Lloyd Weston was paying me.
"You didn't seem too keen on that, but now that you mention it..."
And then Rania had surprised me. Another death in this building? Lloyd Weston hadn't mentioned that, and neither had anybody else. More to the point, how did Rania find out?
