His Conspiracy Girl (Emerald City #4) Read Online Free

up, eyes wide, when she sat next to him, just a few inches between her leg and his. She rested her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. Her voice was muffled. “I’m sorry about last night.”
    “Yeah, well—” His angry retort faded in his throat. With all the tension and abrasion in the air, he hadn’t expected an apology. “Good.”
    She exhaled softly, and turned to face him. When she shifted her weight on the couch, her knee brushed the side of his leg. The hypersensitive silicon nerve endings sent sparks of heat through him, and he pushed the reaction back. This was a bad time for his mechanical parts to betray him.
    If she noticed the reaction, she didn’t call him on it. Her voice was low, barely carrying over the chatter of her crew. “First of all, whether or not you believe me, I’ve never done that before. Second, you were as willing to leave with me as I was with you, and how was I supposed to know you’re sensitive about your gift?”
    He’d followed the apology, and logic had started to creep in. Her words made sense, and if he was honest with himself, he was as guilty of using her for her body as she was him. But she’d completely lost him with her last sentence. “My gift?”
    She nodded. “They’ve given you top of the line tech. You’re a walking picture of perfection, thanks to their work and innovation. It’s not only another chance at life, but a chance at a better life than most people could ever hope for.”
    Fucking hell, she sounded like one of their commercials. He looked at her in disbelief. “Did you memorize a pamphlet to prep for this?”
    “You’re telling me you don’t appreciate what they’ve done for you?”
    Killed his family a decade ago? Tried to buy his silence ever since? Manipulated every regulation and senator who stood in their way? No, he wasn’t so appreciative of that. But the expression on her face had shifted, her frown lines had vanished, and the rebuttal died in his thoughts. Telling her any of it wouldn’t do any good. He realized he was looking at a believer. “No wonder they picked you to film this documentary. You’re perfect for it.”
    Her smile turned genuine, calling to the same thing that had attracted him to her the night before. The slight parting of her lips, the emerald sheen in her eyes. Not that it mattered now. She leaned forward, and the front of her shirt tugged open, revealing a hint of smooth skin. “You think so?”
    He wasn’t going to look. He’d keep his eyes on her face. Except that was almost as dangerous as the taunting hint of cleavage. He leaned back into the arm of the sofa, trying to look casual. “Absolutely. I’m sure you’ll do the film the justice it deserves.”
    The corners of her eyes pulled up some more. Wow, that was gorgeous. He squashed the thought. She gestured to one of the guys—Shane maybe?—attention never leaving Camden. “Thanks. I was so excited they signed off on the project. A decade. So incredible. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, since I started researching your story.”
    Of course she’d been excited. Because she had a silicone fetish. Bad path to go down. Shane approached with two mics. They were about the size of his thumb—smaller than the clips he used to attach them to Morgana and Camden’s shirts. Each one would be tuned to a unique frequency, and feed directly to the camera, Shane’s earpiece, and most likely directly to a computer to record sound.
    “So we’re good now? We can do this?” All the animosity was gone from Morgana’s voice. Apparently talking business had brightened her up.
    The faster they got this over with, the better. He gave her what he hoped looked like a genuine smile. “Sure. Let’s get started.”
    Unwelcome disappointment slithered through him, when she stood and moved into the matching chair next to him. One of the cameras was shifted to be on her, and the other followed him, as he turned in his seat to face her.
    She fluffed