Possessive Boss

He doesn’t want his friend to be doing anything stupid that might screw them over. But he also can’t abide a man that does something behind his back.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if Darin had just told Jacob up front what he was doing and what his plans were.

Probably wouldn’t have made things a lot easier for him.

But he didn’t, and here I am, obsessing about what I read in those files.

My phone buzzes early Sunday morning. I pick it up and read a text from Jacob.Jacob: Did you have fun Friday night?

Me: I did until you were a dick.

Jacob: So we’re still fighting then.

Me: I’m not fighting. I’m just doing my job.

Jacob: Good. I’m glad to hear it.I toss my phone aside, annoyed with myself. I don’t know why I keep baiting him. I know why he’s angry and I can even understand it. I’m not really mad at him for that.

I’m annoyed that he won’t trust me. Even after I did my little act of devotion for him.

He should trust me. He should know that I’m not just going to take the first little scrap of information he gives me and go running to my boss with it.

I’m not trying to screw Darin here. I want to prove that he’s innocent, just like Jacob does. That would be best for Jacob and so that’s what I really want to happen.

But I’m not going to pretend like the guy’s innocent if he’s not.

I’m grumpy when Monday finally rolls around and I’m stuck at my desk so close to Jacob. I want to yell at him, but I keep it together. We actually have work to do today since the office is starting to take on clients and get moving for real.

I keep my head down, keep working, but I have my notepad from that night with me. I keep glancing down at it, reading notes, trying to puzzle what I saw together in my head.

Hedge funds are massive and complicated, even a small one like FLFM. There are a lot of clients and each one is invested in a bunch of different places. The money is moving around all the time and each investment, purchase, sale, and anything else is noted down and logged in multiple different spreadsheets. Trying to get it all down in a night is like trying to count every rock in Mt. Everest in an afternoon.

It just isn’t possible. But I did find some interesting things anyway.

First, there are accounts that don’t have client names attached to them. They’re just referred to by their number internally. That seems okay, I don’t see why it’s an issue, but it’s a little strange that some use a name and some use a number. Second, there are large sums moving between accounts that aren’t accounted for, or at least not exactly. I can’t tell if they’re buys or sales or what, and the data isn’t clear.

So nothing concrete, but it’s a start. I might see that same sort of stuff at any hedge fund in the world though.

Jacob doesn’t talk to me all day. By the time people start to leave, I feel myself getting antsy.

“Don’t work too late,” Brian says. “You’re going to make me look bad.”

“That’s not too hard.”

“Oh, sick burn.” He grins and flips me off as he leaves.

I sigh and shake my head. I don’t know why I’m so crabby. I definitely shouldn’t bait the local asshole.

But once most people are cleared out and it’s nearly six, I get what I want. Jacob appears at my cube, leaning casually against the wall. “Surprised you’re still here.”

I turn my chair to him and cross my legs. “I’m a hard worker.”

“I know. I’ve seen you in action.”

I frown. “What can I do for you, Mr. Lofthouse?”

He leans toward me. “I like that. Very formal.”

I arch an eyebrow in response.

He sighs and stands up. “Come on. I want to talk.”

“Your office?”

“Unless you want to talk out here, fed.”

I wince and look around, eyes wide. He laughs and walks to his office.

I stand and hurry after him. I shut the door behind me and he uses his remote to roll the blinds down and lock the door. It closes with a satisfying thud.

Although that means I’m trapped in here with him.

“Sit,” he says.

I walk over to the chairs and sit. I can’t help but obey him, even if I’m still a little angry.

“Listen,” he says. “I know why you’re angry.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think I don’t trust you.”

I nod once. “Okay. I guess it’s obvious then.”

He sighs. “Val. We’re on the same team. Despite what you think.”

“I think you were given some information about our target, but you chose not to share it with me because you don’t trust me.”

He looks away. “My mother gave me speculation.”

“I’m not going to share that with my boss,” I say. “Come on, Jacob.”