Incentive (Infidelity Universe)

As I set Evan’s business card on the floor beside the mattress, a worrisome thought hits me. He never asked for my last name. Wouldn’t he need it to set up the interview? I included it on my application, but that was after he set the appointments.

I stab a hand through my hair. If he already knew my name, he knows the rest. All it takes is a Google search on Decker Gabrielli to fall into a wasteland of negative press. Yet he set up the interview anyway? Without asking for the details surrounding my fall to shame?

My breaths quicken. Does that mean he’s not concerned about it? That Infidelity might actually consider me? Christ, if they offered me a job, would I even accept?

Twenty grand a month.

Free rent and food for a year.

Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days of sex with a repulsive woman.

I don’t know whether to laugh or freak the fuck out.

CHAPTER 4

DECKER

Two days later, I stand outside a curved building that matches the address Evan gave me. Scrutinizing my reflection in the blue-glass door, I straighten my tie and brush out the suit jacket. The buttoned collar strangles my neck, my skin itchy and overheated despite the wintry blasts of wind. I’m so fucking ready to be done with this charade.

While yesterday’s visit to the medical office was painless, I spent last night mulling over the damn interview. The nurse called me Mr. Gabrielli. If she had access to my full name, Evan did, too. No doubt he investigated my past. Maybe he’s optimistic about Infidelity hiring me despite my slandered reputation, but I remain more conflicted than ever about whether I’d accept a sketchy job offer.

The landlord gave me until tonight to pay her the overdue rent or turn in my key. I’ll have few dollars left after I hand over the interview money. That’s if Infidelity cuts me a check before I leave today. I have no fucking clue what I’ll do tomorrow or the day after. I haven’t been able to focus past this interview.

I step inside the large lobby and spot Evan in the sitting area. His smile’s as bright as his eyes.

“You know about Adam Lamont,” I say in greeting.

His grin falters but doesn’t fade. “Yes.” He leads me to the wall of elevators.

“Then you know my association with him.” I keep my voice low, eyes on an older man who waits for an elevator a few feet away. “You know what Adam did?”

“Yes.” Evan slides a hand down his tie. “I also know he’s in prison, and you’re not. Did the judge make a mistake?”

“Fuck no.” I grind my teeth and whisper harshly, “But I was his partner. That shit was happening right under my nose, and I didn’t stop it.”

“Because you didn’t know, right?” Evan gives me a hard look.

A familiar fist of shame clenches inside me. I should’ve known, should’ve paid better attention.

The elevator closest to the older man opens. We follow him in, and Evan pushes the button for the 37th floor. Since we’re not alone, I keep my mouth shut during the ride up.

We arrive at our floor, and Evan leads me to the receptionist behind a glass desk. Infidelity scrolls in huge curly letters across the wall behind her. When I filled out the on-line application at the restaurant, Evan explained that the privately-run Fortune 500 company is a website that offers a number of services to exclusive clients.

But the service I’m interviewing for isn’t one they promote on the web.

I lean a hip against the desk as Evan speaks with the receptionist. She takes down his name and makes a call, her gaze flitting repeatedly to me, her cheeks flushed and lashes lowered coyly.

“You don’t even have to try,” Evan whispers while she’s on the phone.

I shrug. If the girl knows why I’m here, she’s probably imagining me fucking random clients who have stopped by her desk.

A moment later, a middle-aged woman rounds the corner and extends a hand to Evan. “Good morning, Mr. Daniels. So good to see you.”

“Ms. Flores. Thanks for fitting us in.” He shakes her hand and turns to me. “This is Decker Gabrielli. Decker, meet Karen Flores.”

She stands taller, her shrewd gaze sweeping me from head to toe. Not in a pervy way. More like she’s taking my measure. When she returns to my face, her smile is warm, her expression open, perhaps even enthusiastic.

She’s not bad looking for an older lady. Her stiff skirt suit is a bit off-putting, but there are some wicked curves beneath the polyester.

“Mr. Gabrielli.” She grasps my offered hand. “It’s a pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s mine.”

Instead of flinching at the pressure of my grip, she returns the squeeze with impressive strength.

“If you’ll follow me…” She leads us down a hall, through a labyrinth of private offices and cubicles, and swipes a badge over the sensor beside another elevator. “How are you doing, Evan?” Her voice is soft, asking more than her words imply.