Secrets Aren't Meant to be Kept

Something's Going On

Something's Going On

Dick came out of the studio's bathroom to see Rachael sitting on a bench. She was staring at the projected image of a manuscript on the wall. She looked bored and irritated while slouching forward and tapping her fingers on her cheek.

He traipsed to the back of her and tapped her shoulder, causing her to look up and her hat to fall. He caught the black, Panama hat before it touched the ground and placed it on his head.

"Nice hat," she said in a monotone voice.

"Thanks, but I think that it looks better on you." He turned to the mirror behind them. The hat looked nice on him. It matched the cerise pink, Henley shirt and black jeans that he wore.

He turned back around and placed the hat back on the original owner's head. While it looked nice on him. It fitted her better. The hat complemented her outfit, which consisted of a gray, midriff shirt that showed her lower belly; black shorts that stopped on her upper thigh and looked great on her butt; long, black socks that ran from her feet to mid-thigh; and black, Crofoot boots that stop at her ankles.

"You're not enjoying the exhibit?" He asked, sitting on the bench next to her with his feet facing the opposite direction of hers.

"They're all fake. All the manuscripts and so-call spell books are fake. I can't feel one ounce of magic coming from the items in here."

"I'm sorry, Rae." He truly was. "If I would've known, I wouldn't have bought you here."

"Don't be. I'm happy that I came. If I didn't, I would have always wondered about it, thinking that I've missed out on something great. I should be apologizing to you. You bought the tickets. They must have been hard to get."

Tonight's event was exclusive. It was catered to those individuals who were rich and wanted the power to accompany it. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how one looked at it, no one in this studio was going to receive any information on power tonight.

"It's no problem. I'm a rich, trust fund kid, remember?"

"Still."

"Don't worry about it."

"At least, let me pay for the cheesy fries."

"You are not going to let this go, are you?" She shook her head. "Fine, you can pay for the cheesy fries."

She smiled. "You should be happy that I'm a kind person, who doesn't take advantage of my rich friends."

He raised an eyebrow. "You have more than one rich friend?"

"Maybe." She smirked and got up. "Come on. Hopefully, the cheesy fries are better than this." She walked away, leaving him there to stare after her. Her shirt was a tease along with the pants and socks. They showed off the skin of her lower back and upper thighs.

He tried to recall if her casual outfits were this sexy when they were younger.

Willow stretched and yawned in front of Victor. Even when she was tired, she was beautiful.

"I think we should call it a night." Victor said, looking at the time on the computer. It wasn't too late, just a few hours after normal work hours. However, they had been leaving the office late and returning early in the morning for the last three days.

He and Willow had been working to untangle the intricate web of the late CTO's 'side job'. What should have been a simple week worth of sorting through the information, which Willow found, stretched out into weeks.

He thought that he could do it alone, but it became time consuming and a headache, especially after the new data had merged. He was fortunate that Willow had caught him shifting through it during their lunch break and volunteer to help.