“Hello,” Leah answers. “I’m sorry to call so early.”
“No, it’s fine. Call anytime you need something.”
“Thanks.” She pauses, and I hear blowing across the line that makes me think she just took a deep breath and let it out. Uh, oh. “I need to meet with you as soon as possible this morning.”
“Sure. I’m open until eleven thirty. Did you already call Henry to see what time works for him?”
“Um… No, Harrison, I think only you and I should be there at first.”
“Oh.” I pause for a few seconds as I wonder why she doesn’t want to meet with both of us, and I can think of nothing. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Meet me in my office in, say, twenty minutes? That’ll give me time to get settled.”
“Yes, I can do that.” She hesitates for a few seconds and then says, “Goodbye, I’ll see you soon.” Her voice is low, somber-sounding, and it makes my stomach twist. Whatever she has to say is unlikely to be good news.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m sitting at the table in my office with Leah, nauseated after she’s shown me two and a half months of charges on my company credit card I didn’t make: Christian Dior, Prada, and Chanel, multiple instances totaling over eleven thousand dollars.
“I’m sorry, Harrison, but it gets worse. Much worse.” Leah says. She pulls out some papers and spreads them across the table in front of us.
“What am I looking at here?” I ask.
“Three months of bank statements…”
Over the next twenty minutes, she shows me all the instances that someone transferred money—twenty-five hundred dollars at a time—to the same bank account. Another twelve thousand five hundred dollars. Twenty-three thousand five hundred dollars in total, stolen from our company in just months. Little bits at a time.
“You and Henry are both on this account. I can’t call to get the name on the receiving account, but you can.”
“How the fuck did I let this happen?” I whisper.
“We don’t know for sure it’s tied to you.” Leah tries to comfort me with her words, but nothing can settle me right now.
“Let’s call,” I say.
A few minutes later, I throw up in my trash can after the bank manager tells us the name.
“Cassandra Blanders, sir.”
Cassandra used a relationship with me to steal thousands from our company. I remember the humiliation I felt as I sat in the conference room with my brothers and had to tell them what happened.
We didn’t report her back then. I didn’t want to deal with the negative publicity, but my brothers were more worried about me having to deal with a drawn-out trial. We made her pay retribution, sign an NDA, and agree never to come near us—near me—again.
Now I wish she had gotten everything she deserved years ago because then the scene before me wouldn’t be happening. The pieces fall into place. Delaney showing up in the bar I was in, then at the wedding, and finally, getting a job at my company. Finding her in my office, removing the files in the catalog envelope a few days ago…
My stomach roils with nausea when it strikes me that she’s played me. The woman I love is using me. I stalk over to the table and stand right between them. They both glance up at me.
Cassandra’s eyes widen, but she quickly gets control of herself and flattens her expression, as if she’s uninterested. Delaney, though, doesn’t even try to hide the shock on her face. She pushes her chair away from the table and stares at me for several long seconds.
“H-Harrison. Hi. Um, what are you doing here?”
“I’m asking myself the same question about you. Niceappointment.” My tone is harsh, and she’s not used to it. Her forehead wrinkles at the same time as her eyes narrow.
“This is Cassandra. My… Well, she’s my?—”
Cassandra huffs. “You two know each other? How charming.” She doesn’t bother attempting to mask the bitterness in her voice.
“Piss off,” I hiss at her. “You should be in jail.”
I peer over, and Delaney has her bag on her lap. She grips it so tightly that her knuckles are white.
“Go to hell.” Cassandra stands. “Until next time,” she says to Delaney. She tosses me a dismissive tilt of her head. “Still an asshole.” Then she struts off without another word.
