Instead, he tilts my head up, so I have to look directly into his eyes and says, “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of, Bee. You did what you did for a good reason. It sucks that you both got hurt, and I hate that you blame yourself, but you need to forgive yourself, sweetheart. From what you’ve told me, Sam has moved on and is happy with his Old Lady.” He pauses to press a kiss to the top of my head. “You need to forgive yourself. You can’t heal until you do.”
Afterwards, he holds me while I cry. I shouldn’t accept his comfort, but I enjoy being in his arms. His words stay with me, and I know what I have to do. I need to go to Sam and Ally’s wedding. I need to put my past to rest. Copper is right; I’ll never be able to move on until I do.
The truth is, Copper makes me feel safe. He never pushes for more than I’m willing to give. It would be so easy to slip into a sexual relationship with him, but I don’t want to ruin what we have.
Work keeps me focused and motivated. I’m finally dealing with larger accounts—those set up to launder money. It’s easy to identify dummy accounts because they contain information based on an outdated system. Newer accounts are digital. I notice the discrepancies straight away, and like a good littleemployee, I take them to my direct supervisor. I hate Alan Chivers on sight. He’s smarmy, oily, and hits on all the female employees.
Picking up the ledger, I walk towards his office, noticing one of my female colleagues grimacing as I pass.
“He’s extra handsy today,” she warns.
I nod in thanks for the warning before knocking on Alan’s door. He insists on keeping it closed whenever a woman is inside, claiming it’s to protect confidential client conversations. We all know the truth; it gives him the freedom to grope us whenever he wants. I’m convinced he has dirt on half the staff because if anyone ever reported him, HR would have a full-blown scandal on their hands. Usually, we make sure to stay near the door whenever we’re forced into his office alone.
Unfortunately, today isn’t one of those days.
“Come in,” Alan calls through the closed door.
I do as he says, holding up the ledger. “Can I show you something?”
“Ah, Bee.” He grins, his bright white teeth a beacon in the dim office. He waves me over. “Of course, my dear.”
I approach his desk and place the ledger on it, staying as far away from him as possible. Placing my finger on the discrepancy, I say, “I found this, but I think it’s a mistake.”
For once, Alan doesn’t attempt to touch me. He leans back in his chair and studies me instead. “Don’t worry about it. I know what it is. If you find anything like this in the future, make a note and bring it to me. I’ll fix it.”
Playing dumb, I nod. “Are you sure? It’s a lot of extra work for you.”
“I’m sure.”
“Of course,” I reply, picking up the ledger. I hold it to my chest, grateful that he hasn’t ogled me for once.
Turning around, I walk towards the door. My hand is on the handle when he says my name.
“Bee.”
I look over my shoulder to find him assessing me shrewdly.
“You’ve caught the attention of our bosses if you’re working on those ledgers. Be sure to bring me those numbers at the end of each day.”
“Of course,” I reply, opening the door.
My brain works overtime as I return to my desk. I know they’re not accounting numbers; they don’t fit. They look like bank account references.
I make a list for Alan and another for Cahir. I don’t have the resources to discover which banks they belong to, but Cahir does. He’ll be able to trace the money, which will hopefully lead to the traffickers.
It’s a long, drawn-out process that always leaves me feeling like I haven’t done enough. But this isn’t a quick game; it takes time to build trust and gain access to the right documents. The people we’re dealing with aren’t stupid. They’ve been running their racket ring for a long time.
Needing to get out of the office for a bit, I call Copper. Aware of listening ears, I keep the conversation light and fluffy. Besides, I know it amuses him when I play the role of perfect girlfriend, and I like making him laugh.
“Hiya, Sugar,” I greet him when he picks up.
His rumble of laughter warms my stomach. I know our nicknames are silly, but they’re ours.
It started as a joke when he called me beautiful as he kissed me goodbye one morning. I wrinkled my nose at the endearment, not because I hated it, but because I no longer felt beautiful. Copper thought I didn’t like it, so he started our silly game where he chose ridiculous endearments just to get a reaction. When he jokingly called me Spice, I didn’t wrinkle my nose. I loved it. It wasn’t something I’d heard others call their women. Not that I was his woman. It was all in fun, but somehow it stuck.
“What can I do for you, Bee?” Copper asks.
He’s never hidden that he worries about my working undercover here. He calls often to check in and drags me out for lunch when he thinks I need a breather. This isn’t the first time I’ve called to get together, but it isn’t usual for me to call.
