Damion exits his office with Maggie, and I rotate around to greet them. “I’ll be in my meeting with the department heads until about noon,” he announces, and at least for now his dark hair is as neatly groomed as his pin-striped suit is fitted.
“Good luck,” I say, noticing his glance to the accounting files I have open. I try to distract him by adding, “And please consider drinking another cup of coffee before you start the meeting.”
Maggie chuckles and continues on her way out. “Yes, please,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Yes. More coffee will solve everything,” he grumbles when she is out of range, and his temper is as red hot as the tie he’s wearing.
“You’re mad at me.”
“Yes,” he agrees. “I think I am.”
“Why?”
“I have no fucking clue.” He wrecks his neatly groomed hair with a rake of his hand.
I sigh. “That’s a problem.”
“Big problem.”
We do our favorite staring thing. In a week of practice, we really have it down to perfection.
“We should do something about it,” I suggest.
“But we can’t,” he says flatly, and with that, he walks off.
While normally I’d hang on every moment of Damion’s presence and watch his departure, this time I start digging through my files. I’ll figure out how to solve the “Ms. Miller, Mr. Ward” problem later. I have a bad feeling about the accounting issue.
I check my records and then search the drawers of the desk. I check every piece of paper, looking for anything that might have been missed or stuffed someplace it shouldn’t be. Fifteen minutes into my search, I find a sealed envelope stuck inside a copy-machine manual. Frowning, I open it, surprised to find Natalie’s family photos. In a copy-machine manual? Still, my heart squeezes at the shots of her and her kids. She really did want her pictures back. For some reason, I flip over a cute shot of the family, and I go still. There are numbers, like codes, written on the back, taking up every bit of white space. I check every shot, and they are all filled with similar code. Heart racing, I shove them back in the folder and I look up Terrance’s cell number.
I know you’re in the meeting with Damion, but I need you now. Please don’t tell him why you have to leave. I want to solve the problem for him if we can.
His reply is almost instant. Your office or mine?
Yours.
Ten minutes later, he meets me at the elevator on his floor and leads me to a private office. I sit down in the visitor’s chair and he leans on the edge. “Talk to me.”
“I think Natalie stole donations to the charity event, but … I think it might be bigger than that, too.” I open the folder and pull out a photo and show it to him.
He studies it and runs a hand over his face. “Fuck me,” he grumbles. “Yeah. This is a problem, and it’s too big to keep from Damion.”
My heart sinks. “I knew he had to know. I just hoped it could be after we fixed it.”
“While the idea of fixing it first is admirable of you, this is too big to take that approach. There’s an inner circle involved in a breach. We have a good idea who is behind it, but not all of the players.”
My mind goes back to the message-pad incident with Dana. “Dana was at my desk the other day, looking for something.”
“More than once,” he adds. “We have a camera at your desk, and the phones are all monitored. Natalie called Dana, crying about her ‘pictures.’ Dana is just young and naïve and wanted to help.”
“There’s a camera?” I ask, my mind racing, trying to think of anything Damion and I might have done that was inappropriate, that might have been filmed. “At my desk?”
“Only I see it. Your secrets are safe with me.”
My stomach rolls. “You know.”
“Yes. I know about you and ‘Mr. Ward,’ Ms. Miller. And you should know that I’ve been here three years and Damion has never crossed a line with an employee. I’ve never seen him give any woman more than a night and a credit to the buffet. You have him by the balls, sweetheart. Try not to break them. They’re delicate little guys.”
I grip the arms of the chair, trying to process what he’s just told me. How it makes me feel. Good. It makes me feel good. And confused about my job and my decisions.