that
two of the consortium members indulge in underage sex? Or that the head has
squashed four counts of domestic abuse brought by his wife in the past two
years?”
He stops pacing
and his mouth drops open. “No!
Jesus, I had no idea, Quinn, I swear to you. We did all our due diligence, used
the investigation firm we always use.”
I shrug. “They
were good at covering their tracks, but I’m better.”
Ash nods. “I…of
course. I’ll stall for as long as you want me to. Or we can tear up the
contract. I’m sure we can find a loophole that’ll protect us. Failing that,
we’ll tie them up in court for years.”
“No. I’ll handle
the consortium.”
His face turns
puce as if he’s about to hurl. Sweat drips down his temple. “Quinn, I’m
begging. My twins are about to go to Yale. I’ve remortgaged the roof over their
heads just to pay for tuition. I can’t lose this job. Give me another chance.”
He’s lying, of
course. He remortgaged his house to pay for his mistress. His wife is paying
for his kids’ tuition with her inheritance.
I stand and round
the table to perch against my desk. “You want to save your job?”
“ Yes! ”
“Tell me, what
are the top five properties my father still keeps his eyes on. His pet
projects.”
Ash looks uneasy.
“But…you’ve taken over his portfolio.”
I deliver a ghost
of a smile. “I know he calls you once a week to check on some of the deals
we’re working on. Top five. I need the names.” I harden my voice.
His Adam’s apple
bobs. “I, uh, there are two in Boston—Blackwood One and Blackwood Two,
the condo project in Miami, the stud farm in Montana your stepmother insisted
he buy last year, and a building that houses the junior philharmonic orchestra
in Philly.”
I wasn’t aware of
the stud farm, but the rest are as I guessed. I hitch my thigh over the side of
the desk and cross my arms. “How much did we give away to charity last year,
Ash?”
“I don’t have the
numbers to hand but I can check for you.”
“Ballpark it.”
“Uh…possibly in
the region of a quarter of a billion.”
“How much of that
was recouped in tax breaks?”
Another dribble
of sweat makes it way down the side of his face. “All of it.”
I nod. “Here’s
how you get to keep your job, Ash. By five pm today, I want an iron-clad
contract ready for me to sign, together with a press release.”
“I…sure, just
give me the details.”
I stand. “It’ll
be in your inbox by the time you get back. Don’t fail me, Ash.”
“I won’t. Thank
you, sir.”
He scurries out
and I return to my desk. My gaze immediately zeroes in on the time. Quarter to
one.
The faintest of
tremors shakes through me. I hit send on the email I prepared for Ash before I
rang him. I take care of a few more business items, until my intercom buzzes. I
lay my pen down.
“Send her in.”
The first thing
that comes through is the solid silver executive trolley given to each
Blackwood Estate board member two Christmases ago. I look past it as the door
widens.
She enters with a
touch of hesitancy, which she covers with a brisk intake of her surroundings.
Her green eyes
meet mine and she swallows. The clench in my abs tells me I haven’t imagined
the effect she has on me. Or I on her. She stares at me for charged seconds
before she heads for the twelve-seater dining table set on the far side of my
office.
I track her, take
in her coiled hair, her fragile nape, her curvy form. The petiteness of her
frame rams home to me as she passes my desk pushing the trolley. Her
unremarkable dress affords me an impression of her lightly bouncing tits and a
first glimpse of her smooth legs. They’re shapely, firmly muscled with delicate
ankles I can’t wait to wrap my fingers around. My senses tweak to the decadent morsel
she’ll make once I get my hands on her.
Observing her
this way on Friday would’ve given me away, but here in the privacy of my office,
I indulge myself.
Without
two of the consortium members indulge in underage sex? Or that the head has
squashed four counts of domestic abuse brought by his wife in the past two
years?”
He stops pacing
and his mouth drops open. “No!
Jesus, I had no idea, Quinn, I swear to you. We did all our due diligence, used
the investigation firm we always use.”
I shrug. “They
were good at covering their tracks, but I’m better.”
Ash nods. “I…of
course. I’ll stall for as long as you want me to. Or we can tear up the
contract. I’m sure we can find a loophole that’ll protect us. Failing that,
we’ll tie them up in court for years.”
“No. I’ll handle
the consortium.”
His face turns
puce as if he’s about to hurl. Sweat drips down his temple. “Quinn, I’m
begging. My twins are about to go to Yale. I’ve remortgaged the roof over their
heads just to pay for tuition. I can’t lose this job. Give me another chance.”
He’s lying, of
course. He remortgaged his house to pay for his mistress. His wife is paying
for his kids’ tuition with her inheritance.
I stand and round
the table to perch against my desk. “You want to save your job?”
“ Yes! ”
“Tell me, what
are the top five properties my father still keeps his eyes on. His pet
projects.”
Ash looks uneasy.
“But…you’ve taken over his portfolio.”
I deliver a ghost
of a smile. “I know he calls you once a week to check on some of the deals
we’re working on. Top five. I need the names.” I harden my voice.
His Adam’s apple
bobs. “I, uh, there are two in Boston—Blackwood One and Blackwood Two,
the condo project in Miami, the stud farm in Montana your stepmother insisted
he buy last year, and a building that houses the junior philharmonic orchestra
in Philly.”
I wasn’t aware of
the stud farm, but the rest are as I guessed. I hitch my thigh over the side of
the desk and cross my arms. “How much did we give away to charity last year,
Ash?”
“I don’t have the
numbers to hand but I can check for you.”
“Ballpark it.”
“Uh…possibly in
the region of a quarter of a billion.”
“How much of that
was recouped in tax breaks?”
Another dribble
of sweat makes it way down the side of his face. “All of it.”
I nod. “Here’s
how you get to keep your job, Ash. By five pm today, I want an iron-clad
contract ready for me to sign, together with a press release.”
“I…sure, just
give me the details.”
I stand. “It’ll
be in your inbox by the time you get back. Don’t fail me, Ash.”
“I won’t. Thank
you, sir.”
He scurries out
and I return to my desk. My gaze immediately zeroes in on the time. Quarter to
one.
The faintest of
tremors shakes through me. I hit send on the email I prepared for Ash before I
rang him. I take care of a few more business items, until my intercom buzzes. I
lay my pen down.
“Send her in.”
The first thing
that comes through is the solid silver executive trolley given to each
Blackwood Estate board member two Christmases ago. I look past it as the door
widens.
She enters with a
touch of hesitancy, which she covers with a brisk intake of her surroundings.
Her green eyes
meet mine and she swallows. The clench in my abs tells me I haven’t imagined
the effect she has on me. Or I on her. She stares at me for charged seconds
before she heads for the twelve-seater dining table set on the far side of my
office.
I track her, take
in her coiled hair, her fragile nape, her curvy form. The petiteness of her
frame rams home to me as she passes my desk pushing the trolley. Her
unremarkable dress affords me an impression of her lightly bouncing tits and a
first glimpse of her smooth legs. They’re shapely, firmly muscled with delicate
ankles I can’t wait to wrap my fingers around. My senses tweak to the decadent morsel
she’ll make once I get my hands on her.
Observing her
this way on Friday would’ve given me away, but here in the privacy of my office,
I indulge myself.
Without
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