I take a deep breath. “Thank you, Noah. I’ll keep him here. Inform us of what you find.”
Noah nods and smirks at me before turning to leave.
Once the door shuts, Owen takes the pastry bag and flings it at me. It hits my chest and I fumble with the bag before catching it.
“Asshole,” I mumble, but I already have my hand in the bag, pulling out the best chocolate croissant in the entire United States. I take a bite and practically moan at the taste.
Owen and Parker watch me with amused curiosity. I flip them both off but mumble “thank you” to Owen.
He nods and falls into his office chair.
“You know, there are assistants to get you pastries, Mr. Mills. You didn’t need to go yourself,” I say.
He eyes me over his computer screen. “I wanted to.”
Parker finally stands. “I’m sure you don’t want my opinion—”
Owen cuts him off. “We don’t.”
Parker chuckles and walks to the door, stopping before it. “Owen, don’t be a dick and just tell the girl what’s really going on, will you?” He doesn’t give Owen a chance to respond before he’s out the door.
I whip my head in Owen’s direction and hear him sigh. He stands and makes his way over to my desk.
I ungracefully choke down another bite of my pastry, my curiosity piqued.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, watching my mouth as I swallow.
“And what am I thinking, Mr. Mills?”
“That I’m some sort of criminal.”
Oh shit. “Why would I think that?”
“Because every multi-billion-dollar company is committing at least one crime. More like fifty, though.”
I raise a brow. Owen appears nervous, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweats. Small motions indicate he's fiddling with something in them.
“Another reason my father hates me. I’m trying to weed out the nefarious activity,” he continues.
“Why is that something you needed to keep from me?”
“Because it has created more enemies than I can count. This security team should have been in place a long time ago. I put you in danger. I can’t stop thinking about that. My mistake almost killed you.”
He’s right. This also puts other players on the board, increasing the number of people who may be after him. Too many leads to follow. Too many players in the game. Too many villains.
Instinctively, I reach out and pull his hand from his pocket. He startles and looks down.
“What’s done is done. Perhaps it was the motivation to do what was needed,” I say.
His green eyes raise and meet mine, and guilt shadows them. “I don’t think I want you working for me anymore.”
The statement is so unexpected that I yank my hand free.
“You can’t mean that.” There’s a slight wobble to my voice now. A tremor I didn’t expect. A tremor that shouldn’t be there. Not if I was doing my job correctly.
He shakes his head. “I can’t have you be a part of this.”
If only he knew how much I already was.
