Take the Heat

“Sir, my son and I…” She swallowed hard, knowing it was hopeless. “Since the divorce, we’re barely making it, and—”

“Why didn’t you ask for a raise?”

What? “I don’t— What do you mean?”

“If you were hurting for money, why didn’t you ask for more?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It never is, is it?” His grin was devoid of warmth, more a grimace than an expression of humor. “So you steal from me instead. Much easier, isn’t that right?”

“No—”

“You saw the evidence, Ms. Hart. It’s all there—and more.” He stood, the movement of his body as fluid and deliberate as a leopard. He crossed his arms, the dark fitted button-down shirt outlining his muscled chest. “I need only make a single phone call, and you’ll go away for five years. Maybe ten?”

“Please, Mr. Ellsworth. Please don’t.” Her heart felt like a wild animal frantic to beat its way out of her chest. “I’ll pay it back. I’ll do…anything.”

The glacial blue of his eyes glinted. “About that, Ms. Hart. What are you prepared to do to…resolve this?”

“I’ll work overtime, weekends. I’ll pay it all back, with interest.” Her mind whirled, panicked. “Anything you need, I’ll do it. Please, sir. Just give me a chance.”

He walked around the end of his desk and leaned against its edge, crossing his ankles, glancing down with a shake of his head.

Please God. Please get me out of this!

Will looked upon her then, and the iciness of his gaze made tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She was doomed. What about Noah? Who would take care of him? A five-year-old with a jailbird mother, alone, the one constant in his young life locked behind bars.

“You don’t deserve a second chance, Ms. Hart. And you’re not getting one from me.”

“Oh please,” she said, her voice breaking, the tears welling now. Her legs shook, strength draining from her. “I can’t go to jail. I’ll— He needs me. My Noah—”

Will’s jaw clenched so hard she was sure it would break. “Quiet, Ms. Hart. I don’t want to hear it.”

The first tear tracked down her cheek, and she wiped it away with the back of a trembling hand.

Will stood once more, moving close, looming over her. His shirt, his slacks, all of it—fine, pressed. Perfect. The white blouse she wore had a yellow stain that refused to come out in the wash, so she’d covered it up with her black suit jacket. At least the jacket hadn’t been too wrinkled. She felt like a slob next to this man.

“There may be one way you can avoid prison, Ms. Hart.” His finger poked the lapel of her jacket, his gaze darkening. “I should have your ass hauled out of here in cuffs, but against my better judgment, I’m thinking of…an alternative.”

“Oh thank you, Mr. Ellsworth!”

“I liked ‘sir’ better.”

“Sorry. Sir.”

She clung to that tiny bit of hope like a drowning woman, every second an eternity. Maybe she did have a chance after all?

Will drew in a breath, watching her silently a moment. “We’ll see just how much you want to avoid prison, Ms. Hart.”

“I’ll do anything, sir,” she whispered, looking down with a shaky breath. “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

“You’ll be obligated to me. In all things, Ms. Hart. Do you understand what that means?”

“I—think so, sir.” She didn’t really, but the thought of being penned in like a trapped rat in some godforsaken cell was much, much worse than the unknown of Will Ellsworth’s offer though.

“Take off your jacket.”

Her eyes shot up. “Take off…?”