I can see why Tegan would keep both.
Rose might not have any personal posts anymore, but her sister-in-law is full of them, including a lot of the two of them together.It’s clear they get along well and were friends before Rose’s brother even came into the picture, and the more I scroll through Tegan’s posts, the more I see Rose’s comments and jokes.It makes me miss Alice even more.
Then my breathing stops.
It’s an innocuous photo, smoke rising off a brightly colored cocktail, tagged to a bar two states over.It’s not the bar, or the cocktail, or the caption that has me transfixed.
It’s Rose’s comment.
Peachee is back!!!
Then I see it again on a mirror selfie and again on a photo of the two of them in finery at the races.
That name … I’ve seen it.I know I have.
I scramble for the stack of papers I dismissed.
When it first appears, it feels like déjà vu.I’ve been staring at invoices for long enough now that I can’t really be sure if I saw this line already or if I’m simply imagining it.
But, no, there it is again, twenty-six pages later.
Forty-five minutes and two paper cuts later, I have enough evidence that I’m certain.Peachee Holdings, founded last month, with the address of a postbox and no other details.
The same company whose multimillion-dollar donation to the campaign is exactly what Sterling has had me looking for, and I almost missed it.
Cox was clever—I’ll give them that.Tying the money to a name that would implicate both Rose and Tegan means hitting two birds with one stone.Cox is connected by the barest of threads, and outside of an explanation for where the money came from—a question I can immediately guess would be answered by claiming Rose embezzled it without his knowledge—his hands are clean.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
If we’re not careful about this, Cox won’t see a single fine, and we’ll destroy these women’s lives.
“What’s wrong?”
In a blink, Sterling is at my side, the spicy warmth of his cologne making my head swim.My vision fogs over while I picture him tearing off his shirt, no care for the buttons, and commanding me to taste.
“Mia?”
Fuck.
“I’ve found it.Look at this.”
I turn to Sterling to find him watching me.My heart is beating rapidly, fragile as butterfly wings under my skin.Our fingers brush as I pass the papers over, but he makes no move to look away, and I’m all too aware of the heat of him, drawing me in, as if this is where I’m meant to be.
Where he wants me.
“Thank you, Mia.”
I hardly dare to breathe, pinned by his gaze and the collective weight of every wish I’ve cast in his direction.
I’m overcome with the need to know, to see, what it would take to break through his restraint.
What he would do with all of that intensity if I asked.
Not that I’ll ever get the chance.I imagine he can read every thought as though it were written clear on my face, and his avoidance of me is as good of a sign as any that what I feel is one-sided.I drop my eyes, turning back to my desk and pushing my foolish hopes away.
* * *
This case is kind of intense.
