I frown. “Why do you have a PI?”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about,” he insists, cupping my face with one hand. “I’m sorry. You just landed a massive deal and I should be celebrating with you, not running off to deal with this.”
“You’re not ruining anything,” I assure him.
His mouth twitches like he doesn’t quite believe me.
“Still feels like I am,” he mutters.
He presses a quick kiss to my forehead.
“Take my car and go home. I’ll be back soon and we’ll celebrate. I promise.”
I swallow, wanting to object, but instead I nod.
“Okay,” I murmur.
He gives me an apologetic look as he hands me his keys before he turns to hurry down the sidewalk to grab a cab. I watch him, my heart heavy, and then hurry to his car. I drive back to the apartment building and into the parking garage, feeling numb. Once I’ve parked, I just sit for several minutes, my hands on the steering wheel. The high of the day hasn’t quite worn off yet, but now worry and uncertainty is twisting through me.Today should feel incredible. It should feel like the best day of my life.
I landed the Romero contract.
Weeks of work, stress, sleepless nights, and doubt, and I did it. I walked into that room, stood in front of those executives, and delivered the presentation without falling apart.
I should be floating right now. Instead, I feel numb.
There’s a heavy ball of dread sitting deep in the pit of my stomach, twisting tighter every time I replay the last conversation Jayce and I had.
Now that I’ve won the contract… if you want to break things off, we can…
God.
Why did I say that? I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning my head back against the seat. I should have told him the truth. I should have told him how I feel. Should’ve properly thanked him, because he really doesn’t know just how incredible his help has been. I’ve spent years in therapy trying to learn how to manage my anxiety, and yet somehow Jayce has done more for me in a less than two months than any of those therapists ever managed
He sees me, but there’s still so much I don’t know about him.
And why couldn’t he give me an answer to my question?
I push the thought aside and finally get out of the car to head for the elevator, heels clicking along the concrete. During the ride up to our floor, my mind won’t slow down. I hope he doesn’t take long…I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to hold off my anxiety as I wait for him.
The elevator doors slide open to my floor and my phone rings the moment I step into the hallway. I stop to grab it from my purse and frown when I see it’s my dad.
I quickly answer, “Dad?”
“Sutton.” His voice is tight and I immediately can tell something’s wrong. “We have a problem.”
I tense, my stomach twisting with dread. “What kind of problem?”
“We’re missing files. Important ones, Sutt. Digital files have just disappeared, and paper files have been removed from the archives. Contracts that were finalized, and some still in negotiation. Several of them are ones that you’ve been working on.” Papers shuffle on his end and the panic rises in his voice.
My pulse stutters. “That doesn’t make sense. I triple-check everything. You know that! There’s no way…”
“Sutton,” he interrupts, his tone strained but not accusatory yet. “I’m not accusing you. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this. When you were last in New York… did you by chance move anything? Reorganize the files? Maybe pull some contracts to review and forget to log them back into the system?”
My mind races back through the last time I was in the office.
“No,” I say, shaking my head even though he can’t see me. “I never move anything without updating the system. I know how important those records are.”
There’s another rustle of papers.
