The initial shock and fear of my findings render my body‘s motor functions useless, and my legs fold under me forcing me to sit motionless on the floor in front of the cabinet with the seven hundred something paged file dropped to the floor with a loud thump and opened randomly to a profile in front of me.
My heart pulses at an abnormally calm rate despite the mix of anxiety and adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream. Swiping my tongue out to lick my parched lips, I breathe slowly through the small part in my mouth as I try to link what I heard outside Officer Valentine's office yesterday to the files in front of me.
This erudition could easily be the reason why Costa Nero sent shooters after him yesterday. Draven could have refused to sell these files to them while doing business for Montesaro thereby pissing the leader of Costa Nero enough to want to kill him for not giving him what he wants.
Although this assumption would explain why we were being shot at, what concerns me more is the source of where Draven got his hands on this information. WSCPB’s database firewalls are almost impenetrable so whoever hacked into our mainframe must either be someone who has access clear these files, for example, the curator of WSCPB or it has to be a tech geniuses who have daily practice on hacking into massively guarded data banks.
The chances of Draven's 'source' being either one of the two are pretty much equal and until Horace can begin smoking out the rat, I won't be able to pinpoint exactly who it is.
"I think I'll need to call Oliver to do a rendezvous," I mumble softly to myself as I turn my attention back to the files still on the shelves, feeling dread settle in the pit of my stomach at the thought of transporting all of the impossibly thick files. "Hell, this is eight years worth of information...who would have thought a company that fights crime can't even spot a mole in its own headquarters?"
Shivering as I realise the actual meaning behind that question, I will my body to move to close and replace the 2011 file where I found it in the cabinet, relocking it. I raise my right hand to hold onto the top of the cabinet to pull myself off of the floor noting that I've overstayed my time in this office. The folded papers at the waistband of the underwear I'm wearing sharply digs uncomfortably into my waist when I get into the squat position and I wince slightly at the painful jab of the sharp edges on the papers.
Ouch...maybe I should have folded them less tightly...
"Katherine?" Draven's voice warmly questions behind me as his arms wrap themselves around my shoulders causing me to freeze on the spot as my heart rate picks up a little from fear. How long has be been standing behind me? Did he see me snooping? "I'm pretty sure I told you a night ago that this isn't the bathroom."
At his words, the momentary panic disappears as I snuggle into the warmth of his chest against my back, tilting my head back to look at his amused face and I giggle playfully, "I guess I must have a very bad memory."
Spinning me around in his embrace to face him as his signature amused smirk appears on his face. The tenseness I felt form him earlier when he was interacting with his Father is nowhere to be seen on his face as he looks down at me with playful eyes while his hands gently against my back, the tips of his fingers barely touching my hair.
"Bad memory, eh?" He thoughtfully states as he leans forward, minimising the distance between his face and mine which has me gasping softly at the unexpectedness of his action. "You must have forgotten what happened here that night then."
Bolded by his nearness, I whisper provocatively, "Maybe you have to remind me."
Not expecting him to kiss me, I feel tears prick the back of my eyes as he gently presses his lips against mine, catching me off guard. His hands move up and down the length of my back as the need to touch every part of me is all but consuming at this point since he continues to prolong avoiding deepening the kiss.
I know I shouldn't want him to touch me after what I've discovered but the longer he kisses me the more I am tempted to lose myself in the passion that lies held back by the simple kiss. Winding my right hand through his messy bed hair and pulling at the roots in protest of how gentle he is being with me, I lightly press my left hand on his chest so that I can feel the quick thrumming of his heart in his chest that mimics mine.
What I'm doing borders on the line that I swore to never thread with a target.
This line holds the ability to keep my judgement unbiased and fair by making sure I keep my emotions and professionalism on either side of the line, only ever being allowed to stand on the professionalism side of the line while working.
As of now, I'm teetering on the edge of crossing over to the side where my emotions hold free rein over me.
My knees turn deliciously weak as he finally deepens the kiss in response to me pulling on his hair, backing us into the cabinet as the kiss turns into a heated one, pressing his tongue to the seam of my lips, he delves into my mouth. Seating me on top of the cabinet, Draven pulls back to allow me to take in some air into my oxygen deprived lungs as his hands roam my waist, his eyes focus solely on my lips.
Deciding that I've breathed enough after about three seconds, he crashes his lips back on to mine, throwing gentleness out of the window as he sends delightful shocks of pleasure through my body when his hand slips into my shirt. causing me to arch my body into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of his skin against my own.