“Wren,” I growl. “Information.”
“I’m still working on it,” he says as he leans back further in his office chair, arms crossed over his chest.
“Perfection takes time,” Puff Daddy squawks.
“I don’t know how her personal life is going to affect her job performance.”
“Job performance is always affected by what’s going on in our personal lives. You know that.”
“You mean like coming to work drunk because you can’t get someone off your mind?” he challenges, making my eyes narrow.
“Or like pulling your dick out and watching your girl masturbate on video?” I return.
“Touché.”
“And it was after hours. I didn’t show up to work intoxicated.”
“My work was already done.”
“Not always!” the bird supplies helpfully. “An hour ago—”
“I’ll let Simon eat you!” Wren threatens. Puff chuckles like he doesn’t believe Wren.
“What have you found?”
“Nothing good, but I doubt Leighton knows just how deep it goes.”
I sigh, pulling the other chair in the room away from the wall so I can sit down. Wren will give me the finer details I’ll need instead of having to wade through all the information.
“Her dad is having an affair with a woman at work which you already know. The woman also happens to be the CFO, Margaret Winston. It’s been going on over fifteen years. He confessed his discretions to his wife over the weekend. She didn’t take it well. I’m sure the wife knew of the affair long before he actually said the words, but once they were out of his mouth, she couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. She shut the company down.”
“I know all of this. Deacon made me change the contract to reflect only working with Leighton. What else?”
“Margaret, I’m sure at Mitchell Redmond’s request, has been skimming company funds for many years.”
“Embezzlement,” I mutter.
“Estelle Redmond owns the entire corporation. The money is hers. She brought everything into the marriage. It’s why she easily shut it down in a matter of hours. From what I can tell, she hasn’t notified the authorities, but the hasty way she discarded everyone, there’s no doubt eyes are going to be on her. She literally started the storm. Investigations are going to happen. It’s only a matter of time.”
“And how is Leighton involved?”
Wren watches me, his eyes darting between mine, and my heart is in my throat. I don’t know a single thing about that woman other than the way she feels coming on my cock, and although that’s not enough to determine whether she’s a good person, I don’t want to believe she’s the type of person to steal from her own family.
“I’m still digging. I have a few programs running, but I haven’t found anything that makes me believe she knew anything about it. I know she didn’t know about the affair.” He sighs as if his heart is a little broken with what he’s discovered. “I procured a couple of text threads, one from Mitchell’s executive assistant and another person in his office about when she walked in on him and Margaret on Friday, catching them in a compromising position. She was devastated. It seems many people knew, and she didn’t. They like the woman, felt really bad for her. Oddly enough, they like him, too. Seems Mommy Dearest is the devil incarnate, but the fact remains, the man and his mistress are corporate criminals.”
“That sucks.”
“Big time.”
Even Puff Daddy must sense the change in atmosphere in the room because he keeps quiet rather than squawking some shit about bitches and hoes.
“She’s a hard worker. Leighton, I mean. I don’t think she’s going to let this affect her work ethic. If anything, it’s probably going to make her work even harder. She doesn’t have anything really to go back home to. According to her financials and spending reports, all the woman does is work. She’s got a pretty good nest egg built up because she doesn’t spend her money. She doesn’t have a pet, probably because she doesn’t have time for one.”
“What else?” I ask, praying the man doesn’t make me actually ask the questions I’m dying to know the answers to.
“She doesn’t own a car. The company provides a driver, but she insists on an economical car, a Camry, I think. She makes a weekly trip to the local coffee shop near her apartment—a one bedroom, eleven hundred square foot if you’re wondering—on Saturday mornings, but during the week, she drinks coffee at the office. Her clothes come from a monthly subscription box, but from the looks of it, she sends eighty percent of it back.”
He spins around, facing his computer again, and I wait him out. He knows what I want, and he’s either going to give it to me on his own, or he’s waiting for me to ask. I don’t have anything else on my plate today, and that means I have time. I’ll wait him out if I have to.