Elena’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a revealing outfit by any means, but it was just so different from how he usually dressed at work. She had been accustomed to seeing him in button-down shirts, dress pants, the professional uniform of a research assistant. This was different. And somehow the simple outfit change reinforced the fact that Finn wasn’t just her research assistant anymore. The t-shirt was fitted enough to show his shoulders, his chest, the way he moved. She could see the definition in his forearms as he sat down beside her, and she had to force herself to focus on her screen.
Financial documents, Elena.
“Better?” she managed.
“Much.” Finn booted up his laptop, then glanced at her. “You want something more comfortable? I’ve got sweats, t-shirts, whatever you need. Probably fit a little loose though.”
Elena looked down at her work clothes. Slacks and a blouse that felt fine this morning but now felt restrictive. She was going to be here for a while. Might as well be comfortable. “That would be great actually.”
Finn got up and returned a moment later with a pair of greysweatpants and a soft navy t-shirt. “Give these a try. Bathroom’s down the hall.”
Elena took the clothes and headed to the bathroom. The t-shirt was clean but carried a faint scent that was uniquely Finn. She pulled off her work clothes and slipped into his. The sweatpants were too long, and she had to tie them at the waist. The t-shirt hung loose on her frame. Nothing fit even remotely well, but somehow it was comfortable. Just what she needed.
When she returned to the living room, Finn looked up and something warm crossed his face. “Better?” he asked, echoing her earlier question.
“Much.”
Elena sat back on the couch. They were close now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. When she got all settled in again, she noticed their thighs were touching. She could have moved, but didn’t.
She forced herself to focus on her screen. They had work to do.
Elena pulled up Bridgepoint’s annual financial report from the previous year. Since they were a publicly traded company, these reports were available to anyone with an internet connection. The report loaded on her screen, and the first thing that popped up was a summary of their financial performance for the year. One number that immediately jumped out at Elena was Bridgepoint’s net profit figure for the year.
$1.2 Billion. Inprofit.
Elena felt the heat rise in her chest. This was the same company that told her they had to reduce her timeline by six months due to ‘budgetary constraints’. Six months that would have cost what—a couple million? Probably less? That was arounding error to a company pulling in this kind of money every year.
She scrolled further down the report, analyzing the departmental breakdowns, the operational expenses, the revenue sources. Elena wasn’t a financial expert, but everything she saw pointed to a company in excellent financial health. There was no crisis. No budgetary emergency that would justify the deadline pressure they’d been under.
So why had David claimed there was? She opened the 2022 annual report. Same story. Massive profit.
2018, same thing. The company was consistently printing money every year.
“Oh, shit.”
Elena looked up to find Finn staring at his screen. His expression was somewhere between shock and anger.
“What?” she asked.
“The previous trials.” Finn turned his laptop toward her. “They were all fast-tracked too. Every single one.”
Elena leaned closer to see. Finn had the project timelines pulled up for all the recent trials. One after another, they all showed compressed deadlines that were signed off by David Turner.
“And look at the justification,” Finn said, pointing. “Same language every time. ‘Due to budgetary constraints, the research timeline will be accelerated.’”
“What years were those?”
Finn scrolled through the files. “2017, 2019, 2021, and then us.”
Elena’s mind was racing. She had just looked at the annual reports for those years. “Wait. What year was that first one?”
“2017. Why?”
Elena opened up the 2017 financial report andscrolled down to the departmental breakdown. She found the small section dedicated to the research division.
Annual budget: $7.2 million. Actual expenses: $5.1 million.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed.
