“What tipped you off?” Ethan asked.
“I like puzzles.” She smiled. “Look through our vendor list.” She gestured at the folder. I leaned forward and flipped through the first pages again.
“What am I looking for?”
“Quantum Forge Systems.”
I raised a brow. “And?”
Ethan stood and walked over next to me, reading over my shoulder. “We haven’t used that company for eighteen months.”
I flipped a few more pages, scanning the vendor log. Quantum Forge. The name hit a nerve.
“They handled our firewall setup when we first launched. But that’s all in-house now.” Ethan exhaled behind me.
I ran my hand over the scruff on my jaw. “We terminated that contract and hired our own team.” I glance up at her. “Why are we still paying them?”
Mira didn’t flinch. “I’m not sure. According to their records, Quantum Forge went out of business last year.” She tapped the page. “But the payments haven’t stopped. They’re just being rerouted. Different accounts. Same amounts.”
The air in the room shifted. Ethan straightened, crossing his arms. “You’re saying someone’s keeping a ghost company alive to move money?”
“Exactly.”
I stood, letting the silence stretch. “This doesn’t leave this room. If anyone starts asking questions—anyone—I want to know immediately.”
Mira stood. “Understood, Sir.”
Ethan smiled at her, and something sharp twisted through me. I wanted to knock the look off his face.
“Thank you, Ms. Rhodes.”
She turned to leave. I didn’t mean to watch her walk away, but I did—every sway of her skirt, every controlled step. A skirt meant to hide her, though now I knew far too much about what it concealed.
And for one dangerous second, I wondered if she still carried any marks from that night.
If she remembered them.
The door clicked shut.
Ethan gave a low whistle. “You know that’s a bad idea, right?”
I didn’t answer. Not immediately. I circled to the front of the desk and leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching the door, wishing Ethan wasn’t here and she was.
“She’s good,” Ethan went on. “Sharp. But getting involved with her? That’s asking for trouble.”
“She works for me,” I said.
“Exactly my point. It would be messy, not to mention the HR nightmare.”
I finally looked at him. “You think I don’t know that?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think you know it better than anyone. Doesn’t mean you’ll listen.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d built my career, my company, my reputation on control—discipline so precise it bordered on obsession. But Mira Rhodes had stepped into my office and dismantled all of it with one look. One sound. One soft, defiantSir.
“Not my type.” I muttered, turning back toward my desk.
I turned around and moved back to my chair.
