Imani smoothed her hands over her blouse. “Over a million.”
Matthew scowled. “Isn’t Toby’s job to find out the thief?”
“He’s been trying along with a special team. But the thief is very skilled. There’s a probability this is someone who works here. Someone who can virtually steal the money and do it so cleverly, none of us knows exactly where it’s going.”
“How long has this been going on for exactly?” Devon asked.
“Three months, give or take,” she answered.
Three months. He clicked the pen a few more times then rolled it on the table. A tech geek. Without closing his eyes, the image formed in front of him in broad daylight. Elena. His assistant, always strangely aware of her surroundings. Always kept to herself. Far too qualified for a simple assistant position.
“I don’t want the board to find out about this, not until we solve the problem. After thirty years in this place, I sure as hell won’t go out like that. Do any of you have any idea who could be behind this?”
Did he? “No, but I will find out.” He gave her a small smile. If Elena was behind this, he would get to the bottom of things and unmask her. By all means necessary.
***
Mom told us about financial discrepancies. Get access to his personal profile. Find out how his club is really doing. He may be the one stealing.
Stealing? What?Elena looked down at the text message and slid her finger on the screen. When she told her best friend Matthew she would help him expose his half-brother, she never imagined secret texting shenanigans would be a part of her daily routine. All she had agreed to was keeping a close eye on Devon to find any deal-breaking flaw that could give Matthew an advantage on the CEO race. Thank goodness she had a nifty app that erased messages right after reading them. God Bless the Internet.
“A text from a hot guy?” Holly placed her small cup under the soundless dispenser of espresso and winked at her. Janie bit into her blueberry muffin.
“No.” Elena slid her iPhone into her pocket and folded her arms, leaning on the opposite counter. She shook her head at her coworkers, who often sneaked to the twelfth floor to get their daily top-notch caffeine kick. The executive floor break room was a lot more than a simple coffee station. It offered a plethora of pastries and bite size candy bars, not to mention the espresso machine, clean stainless steel appliances, and a sink.
Janie worked under Toby, the accountant, and had thick brown luscious hair, courtesy of her Greek heritage. Holly’s Scandinavian beauty and honesty offered Elena a fresh break from the darkness sitting heavy in her chest and threatening to burst out of her.
“Talking about sexy guys…is your boss still seeing that lady?” Holly asked.
“The one from the sex scandal?” Janie asked, hinting at the tell-all interview that Devon’s ex-girlfriend Regina gave some months ago, exposing their open relationship to the world. Who would have thought she was starting a swing club and needed the press?
“I don’t know anything about his private life,” Elena said in a small voice. Not that she wanted to—the little she read in the papers was enough to set her mind on a crazy spiral of dangerous curiosity—but according to Matthew, knowing what he was up to would help expose him. Although he hadn’t been seen with Regina for months, wasn’t it strange she opened a state-of-the-art adult club in Denver? Sure, she could have made money from the interview alone, but this wasn’t Hollywood. There was something else—
Janie lifted her shoulders. “I see nothing sexy about a grown man slutting up like a hormonal teenager,” she said, as usual the voice of reason. With a sigh, she continued, “My Roy would never act like that.” And there it was, the first daily mention of her husband of twenty years. Elena shot a playful glance at Holly. When would it ever stop?
“Whatever. I’d still do Devon Wilder with my hands tied. No pun intended,” Holly said, and let out a hearty laugh.
“I bet you would. Maybe you already have.” Janie stuck her tongue at Holly in teasing mode.
“I wish.” Holly nudged Janie’s elbow.
Hands tied…Oh man, the image of submitting to Devon’s powerful control shot heat through Elena’s veins. “I don’t know if he’s seeing anyone. Don’t care.” Discreetly, she clenched her legs together to stop the heat from settling between her thighs. But it was too late.
“I’m sure there’s a very lucky woman out there, grinning like a fool,” Holly said.
“Or feeling like one,” Janie mused.
Elena opened the fridge and looked at it for a moment, welcoming the waves of cool air on her warm skin. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the small Fiji bottle all the way in the back, if anything to give her more time to forget that image. And the chill would damper any burning thought involving the infamous Devon Wilder.
“Is that a new skirt?” Holly pointed down at her.
“Oh this?” Elena slammed the fridge door. She grabbed the bottle with one hand and with the other, smoothed the crease-free, shape snugging black pencil skirt with her hands. “I’ve had it for a while.”
Admitting she made not one but two trips to the mall over the past week would only raise more speculations. What kind of clothes was she expected to wear anyway, as an amateur spy? The brisk fall weather could warrant a trench coat and gloves, but inside the office was a different story. It was as if the heater was stuck on a hell-like temperature, for she was burning. All. The. Time.
Holly arched a long, manicured eyebrow. “Really? I saw it on a Bloomingdale’s mannequin, just a week ago.”
