The Truth

Bossman? Does he mean Daniel? He wouldn’t be here on a Saturday night. He’s probably working out or on a date, or at least working from home. But I glance up to the fifth floor anyway, and sure enough, I can barely see it on the backside of the building, but the corner office light is on.

Mac keeps talking, but I can’t put that light out of my mind. I might as well get this embarrassment over with and go apologize for this morning.

And last night.

And his car. I hope the detailer was able to get it clean.

“Hey, Mac, I need to go inside,” I tell him. “I think I left my phone charger in my desk, and it’s one of those weird ones that needs a special plug. If I don’t get it plugged in soon, I’m going to be on a dead battery by the time I get home.”

Mac rolls his eyes, probably holding back a comment about my generation and our cell phone addictions, and waves me on. “Sure thing, Miss Tiffany. You have a good weekend.” He dismisses me, but then he thinks better of it. “No peeling out of the lot when you leave, either. I ain’t seen tire marks on my asphalt in a while, and I’m not gonna see it tonight.”

The warning is mostly an order and a statement of fact I’d best remember.

“Of course, Mac. You know that wasn’t me,” I say with complete innocence. That’s the truth. It was Elle. I was only sitting in the passenger seat while she did it.

He rolls his eyes and points a gnarled finger at me, his face harder than normal. “We had a saying in the department, ‘guilt by association’. If you’re there when the crime occurs, and ain’t doing a thing to stop it, you’re equally guilty.”

I don’t argue because he’s spot-on. I never stopped Elle. Hell, usually, I was cheering her on.

“You won’t even hear Cammie start up. And you definitely won’t hear any peeling out.”

“Mmhmm.” With that decided, he pulls away in the golf cart, going a bit too fast himself, but the top speed of that cart is little more than a fast jog. He’s not leaving any streaks anytime soon.

With all my procrastination options exhausted, I fortify myself and head inside. The elevator ride upstairs has never seemed so short or so deathly quiet.

Chapter 5

Daniel

The office is nearly silent all around me. I can hear the soft whir of the air conditioning system, set on eco mode right now since the building’s supposed to be empty. Dimly, on the far side of the floor, I can hear the quiet beep of the security panel by the elevator, measuring off the minutes like a guardian metronome.

Closer to me, I can hear the whir of my computer, the small fans making sure the laptop continues to process information at speeds faster than I can type.

I don’t even have music playing, letting my mind stay focused. The quiet and lack of outside stimulation or interruptions allow me to get more done in a few hours than I can in a few days of the Monday to Friday grind. Especially with no meetings, no phone calls, and no contracts needing my signature. I can actually . . . work.

That it’s Saturday night doesn’t matter.

It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do. I don’t have a social life, and my daughter and grandchild live on another continent.

So where else would I be on a Saturday night?

A date? Rarely. It’s not for me. At home? I’d only be working there, and with more distractions since I’d be tempted to turn on a game or pull up a movie.

This is basically where I am and what I do all the time. Fox Industries is the major portion of my life.

People think being the boss means living in the lap of luxury and taking a day off anytime you want. But the last time I went on a vacation was a combo trip to London to see Elle, Colton, and Neve and to check in on our Fox Industries location there.

Does it count as a vacation if I was discussing business even while having a tea party?

Oh, I’m sure there are those who are able to leave it all behind for a bit and truly take a break, but I’m not one of those.

Which is, again, why I’m forty-seven pages into a proposal on a potential corporate takeover we’re considering on a Saturday night. It’s dry data, with lots of facts and figures for my brain to toss and turn over for examination. The analysis is my favorite part of the process, the phase where I’m on the edge of a decision, metaphorically rocking back and forth as I choose whether to leap or step away.

Morally, it’s a good pickup. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be a ‘vulture capitalist’, taking over companies only to strip them of the good parts and screw the rest. This potential takeover company would be a full subsidiary, creating a synergistic market advantage for multiple Fox companies.