I barely even knew the woman.
CHAPTER NINE
Roe
So, you know that saying about how women should run all the intelligence in the world because we can find out things about people (men) that no one else can?
Yeah, I guess that gene skipped me.
Or, which felt entirely possible, Milo “Grant” simply didn’t have any sort of social media presence. Or he used a weird name or something like that.
I couldn’t find anything about him or his many siblings.
I mean, I even devolved into looking at the social media pages of hundreds of fancy Italian restaurants to see if I could find a Milo who liked or commented on their content.
No luck.
“Now I have a headache,” I told Alley, whose one eye flicked over at the sound of my voice, then stared at me with complete disinterest before she went back to cleaning her one good ear.
I guess I had to go into my first day of being a spy completely oblivious to who my ‘handler’ was.
I made my way into my bedroom, gathering a garment bag, my makeup, and slipping into sneakers to go with my jeans and tee outfit.
There was the slightest bit of warmth in the air. I knew it was ‘fake spring,’ but I was soaking up the heat from the sun as I made my way out of my apartment and started the walk toward the casino.
And while I did that, I went ahead and tried to figure out what the hell being a corporate spy might entail.
See, I’d spent most of my free time trying to figure out who Milo was. And almost no time at all trying to lay out a plan for how I was going to get him the information he was looking for.
I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that Milo couldn’t possibly be expecting results on my first day back to work. It was going to be a process.
I was going to have to find a good time to get into his office. Then snoop. All the while praying he didn’t have cameras in there.
And I was going to have to be open to more private events. As much as my voice (and, you know, soul) hated that idea.
I’d just finished with my mascara when the door opened.
Then there was Frank.
His gaze flicked up to my head. Hehatedthe look of curlers in my hair. It probably reminded him of his mother or something. But it was funny to watch the way his nose crinkled up as soon as he saw them.
“There was a gift out front for you,” he said, producing a small white box.
“Oh, thanks,” I said. I made sure my fingers didn’t brush his as I took it from his hand.
As expected, Frank didn’t leave me in private to open my gift.
He was far too jealous for that.
And I think it irked him that I refused his early attempts to give me gifts but accepted ones left by guests.
It was surprisingly heavy for what appeared to be a jewelry box, but when I opened it up, there was a beautiful necklace with a hefty diamond. One that my trained eye (thanks, Grandma) immediately clocked as real.
“Is that a diamond?” Frank balked.
“Seems like it,” I said, lifting it from the box.
“Let me see that.” He charged forward, snatched it from me, and brought it close to the mirror. Then, in the corner, ran it across the glass.
