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“This is how it works,” I cut in coldly.
He relents and rattles off the date and time. I pull up the footage and glance at him. “Which feed?”
He hesitates. “My father’s office.”
I let out a low, dry laugh. “Nice.”
I punch in the date and time and fast-forward through the footage. I don’t particularly want to watch, but I need to verify he’s not lying. The last thing I need is to delete something that could come back on Grace—or drag me into shit.
The story checks out.
An older woman, easily in her mid-fifties, walks into frame and leans over Maverick’s desk. Finn steps in behind her, slaps her ass hard, bends her over, and reaches for his belt.
“You get the idea,” Finn says quickly.
I hit pause. “Like them older, huh?”
He doesn’t answer. I delete the next twenty minutes of footage, then scrub through the timeline again just to be sure. They’re still going at it.
I let out a low whistle. “You’ve got stamina.”
I hand the laptop to him. “I don’t need to see any more of this.”
Finn takes it and clicks around for a few seconds, deleting another chunk himself. Once he’s satisfied, he passes it back without a word.
Then he looks at me, eyes narrowed. “You’ll keep your mouth shut about this.”
He pulls out his phone and sends the money through an instant payment app. A few seconds later, mine pings—ten thousand dollars transferred.
Ten grand is ten grand. I’m not hurting for cash, but I’m not stupid enough to turn down easy money from a spoiled rich kid who just handed me leverage on a silver platter.
As he heads for the door, he pauses on the threshold. “How long are you here for?”
“No idea.”
He lingers, studying me. “No one’s tried anything with Grace?”
“Nope.”
“Shame,” he mutters, then walks off before I can decide whether smashing his face into the doorframe is worth the trouble.
What an asshole.
My phone vibrates before he’s even through the door.
Grace: What did he want???
Drew: Security footage from his dad’s office. Him fucking some woman.
Grace: WHO???
Drew: Don’t know. Brunette. Way older. Like fifties.
I don’t know who that woman was, and I don’t care.
One thing is crystal clear though: Grace and I are going to have to be a hell of a lot more careful from now on.
She warned me Finn is the spiteful, petty type. The kind of guy who’d burn everything down just to watch it burn. I’ve got dirt on him, sure…but the footage is gone. And let’s be honest—Maverick probably wouldn’t lose much sleep over his son fucking some woman on his desk.
