Mae

Sitting in my office, a half-eaten bowl of salad in front of me, I went through my emails. Most of them were business as usual, from those who either didn’t know what had happened or chose to ignore it. A handful of people acknowledged it, but their responses read like I’d merely missed out on an event because I was sick or like someone had eaten my sandwich from the lounge. How could they work for this company and not realize what this meant to me, to the future of FCA?

I furiously stabbed at pieces of kale and croutons, glaring at them when they didn’t stay on my fork. “Come fucking on!”

“I know you’re out for revenge, but I don’t think that salad hurt you, personally,” a voice said from somewhere in the room.

Glancing up from my desk, I watched the empty space in front of my desk fill with the presence of the devil. Azrimin stood with an air of nonchalance, his hands in his pockets, chewing what I assumed was gum.

“Why don’t you engage in some other bad habit…like smoking?” I said sarcastically.

He snapped his fingers, and a cigarette appeared between them. He gazed at it, took a drag, then blew a smoke ring.”

“There’s no smoking in here!”

He grinned and threw it in the air. I flinched, but a beat later it vanished. “Make up your mind.” He leaned on the edge of the desk and said, “To answer your question, I like to have fresh breath. Plus, I’d rather burn other things…”

Ignoring that, I moved on to a more important topic. “You know, you were spectacularly helpful this morning while my stepbrother treated me like the help. So, thank you.” I grimaced and turned back to my salad.

“Poor, Mae, damsel in distress. Was big brother being mean to you?”

Looking up, I scoffed. “Yeah, okay, I can handle him…but you’re supposed to be doing some heavy-lifting, remember?”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me to do anything. That was our agreement, remember? So I waited and watched.”

“Smart ass.”

“Hey, if you’d told me to, I don’t know, throw him into the sun…or turn him into a sewer rat…I would have done it.”

I dropped my head to the desk for a second and focused on breathing. I counted slowly to three before looking back up. “Fine. Sorry. I was just taking it out on you.”

Azrimin shot me a charming grin. “Apology accepted. Now what? Smiting time?” His tone was comically hopeful, and I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped me. I knew I should be worried we seemed to be developing some sort of odd friendship, but the lines were easy to blur.

Still, his question remained. What would be next? I knew Clinton and not only did he make poor decisions on the regular, he was cocky enough not to cover it up, so I was confident proof of his fuck-ups would be easy to find. My father had covered for Clinton for years out of loyalty to the family; hell, I’d even done it a few times at my father’s request. All I needed was some uninterrupted access to his office.

***

I glimpsed my watch, then with a sense of determination, I pushed back from my desk.

“Oh, you’ve made a decision. What is it? Do tell.”

“There’s not much time,” I said, slipping my phone into my pocket. “It’s one forty-five. Clinton has been consistent in very few things during his time here, but one of them is that every Wednesday, he takes a long lunch—one that involves more than just food if you know what I mean.”

Azrimin moved off the desk and stepped back to make space for me. “From what I know of your brother,” he said dryly, “I do.”

“Stepbrother,” I corrected with a glare. Moving past him, I said, “Let’s go. This is the perfect time to sneak into his office.”

I left my office and passed Sherry’s desk, telling her I’d be back in a bit. A brief moment of panic hit me that she might see Azrimin, until I remembered he knew what he was doing and as expected he’d faded to nothing. I assumed he was still following me as I headed down the hall.

When I got into the elevator, Azrimin appeared again. Still not used to it, I had to force myself not to flinch.

Azrimin waved the doors closed with one hand. “I could just…poof us in there, if you don’t want to be seen sneaking into the president’s office.

I rolled my eyes. “And how many years would that take off my life?” I lifted a brow at him. “No thanks.”

Azrimin shook his head. “No, no. This one’s on me. Consider it a freebie to prove my worth.”

Before I could decide either way, he wrapped an arm around my waist, and in an instant, we were in the president’s office—my father’s old office where I spent many hours with him, working on projects together, talking laughing… And now Clinton would taint it with his incompetence and disgusting behavior.

When I got my senses back, I hastily pushed away from the devil. “Gah! What the hell are you doing?”

“What, we’re here, aren’t we?” He gestured around the room with his arms.

I threw a hand on my hip. “Yeah, but you didn’t have to touch me last time.”

Azrimin shrugged. “You’re very critical of me, the giver of powerful gifts.” When I only stared blankly at him, he added, “Makes it easier. Now, what are we looking for?”

With no time to dwell on Azrimin’s handsy ways, I moved quickly over to Clinton’s desk, where I grinned and gestured to his open laptop.

***

Just like in my office, Azrimin rested his hip against the corner of the desk, as if he didn’t have a care in the world, whereas my pulse had kicked up at the thought of being caught.

Looking down at the machine, he said, “Want me to pull the password and get you in?”

His calm demeanor rubbed off on me, and I laughed. “Thanks, but Clinton’s had the same password since he was twelve.” I typed it in from memory, hit enter, and held my breath. “It worked.”

Azrimin pressed a hand against his mouth to stifle his laughter. “His password is BigDickClint27? Not one for subtlety, is he?”

“You’re one to talk,” I said, taking a seat at the desk and scooting in. Immediately, I began skimming through Clinton’s email. I wouldn’t bother with his Internet history because all his good-ole boys probably have the same disgusting sites on their computers.

“Lots of unread,” Azrimin said, coming around behind me and looking over my shoulder.

“Yeah, because he’s a slacker.” There were also a slew of forwards and group threads with account executives, and it was obvious not a lot of real work was being discussed. Then a subject line with Payment Confirmation caught my eye, and I threw a look at Azrimin.

“I see it.” He leaned down even closer, put his hand over mine, and tapped the touch pad to click it.

The heat of him radiated to my neck and cheek. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he was making this more difficult on purpose, especially when he got closer to my ear and said, “What is it?” Though it wasn’t necessary, he said it in a whisper, and I felt a shiver go down my spine.

Using my shoulder, I knocked his head away. “Personal space, man.”

He paused a beat too long before saying, “Apologies, my dear.”

I didn’t have time for these games, so I focused on reading the email. “This is a payment confirmation for an escort service, coded as “entertainment.”

“In Clinton’s defense, the men did seem entertained.”

“Screw you,” I said, elbowing him harder than the shoulder shove he’d gotten a moment ago.

“I’m kidding. Want me to make all their dicks fall off?”

While the prospect was tempting, I was playing the long game. “Listen, if this was for the party Clinton had thrown, then—” I gasped when I got to the bottom of the email.

“What is it?”

“Got you, fucker!” I pointed at the end of the message. “That…is a client code. He used a client’s money to pay for his party. This is what we need.” I glanced at Azrimin with a big grin but he didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm. “Hey, it’s at least a starting point. I told you that idiot would fuck up out of the gate. Misappropriation of funds is a damn serious offense in our world!”

I attached the email as a file, forwarded it to myself, and then deleted the forward and any evidence that I was on his computer.

“Uh oh.” Azrimin’s head snapped in the direction of the door.

A second later, I heard the sound of footsteps heading straight for the office. “Shit,” I whispered.

I couldn’t make out the words, but it was definitely Clinton’s voice speaking to his secretary.

We’re so done.