Chapter 24

Iglance up from computer, my mouth freezing wide-open as I sing Rammstein’s big hit Du Hast. It’s German, not Russian, but the repetitive nature of the chorus means just about anyone can sing it. Though judging by the barely suppressed laugh on Thomas’s face, he’s not going to join me in the next round.

I curse in Russian, mixing up all my languages when I tell him, “Shit! You scared me!”

He laughs. “I thought it was just a crazy rumor, you know, like fables they tell the new hires. Beware the psycho in the basement!” His voice has a mumbo-jumbo, woo-woo waver to it. “But it’s actually true, and it really is you.”

I roll my eyes, laughing. “Well, yeah. Have to keep up my street cred so everyone leaves me alone to crunch my numbers.”

It’s still a bit weird to have the big boss coming all the way down to my basement office, but I like seeing him here, in my space. I suspect he likes the escape just as much as I do. He looks around at the spartan space, taken up mostly by my desk and multiple monitors. But there are several pops of color in the framed posters on the wall.

With a grin, I lift my chin toward my latest acquisition. “Like it?”

Thomas touches the frame gently with one fingertip, a soft smile spreading his face. “Sailor Moon? Any particular reason?” His words are laced with memories.

“Got to see the latest movie in Japan. Did a little cosplay. The poster reminds me of good times,” I say, the flashes just as fresh in my mind.

He looks at me. “I came down to ask you to lunch. But now I’m thinking of something a little sooner.” He glances at the hall outside my door. “Does your office lock?”

I blush, so turned on by his words I can barely think. “Of course, it does. But I’ve gotta crunch these numbers. Boss is a real stickler on deadlines. And this is a big job.”

It’s not a flirt, though the words could be construed that way. I really am mid-analysis on the resort figures, and Thomas was right that doing the work at home had been the right way to go. With the data being in multiple locations, compiling it was my first step, and I’m only just beginning to actually make comparisons and projections. “And I don’t know that a mid-morning quickie in the office is really the message we want to send.”

He sighs, the sound an admission that he knows I’m right, but the look in his eyes says he wants me anyway. “Fine. Lunch it is. You’re a tough negotiator, Miss Karakova.”

I smirk. “You have no idea, Mr. Goldstone.”

He comes closer, tipping my chin up and leaning forward as he locks me in place with his eyes. Our lips are only a breath’s space away and I’m ready for his kiss, lips parted and wet and wanting. And that’s when he says, “I can be rather persuasive myself.”

I feel the heat of his words, knowing that he wouldn’t have to persuade me to do a damn thing. I’m putty in his hands, and I slump as he walks to the door, leaving me cold without his closeness.

He adjusts himself, intentionally letting me know that he’s just as affected as I am, a small gesture on his part. But then he stands straight and stiff, his professional persona clicking into place like armor.

“Yes, I’ll need those figures as soon as possible. Get to work, Mia.”

If anyone was in the hallway to hear, it’d sound like he was dangerously close to putting me on blast, but I see the spark in his eyes, so I play along. Though I do it in my own way.

Knowing he’s the only one who can see me, I flash him double middle fingers and stick my tongue out like a child. I can see the clench of his jaw where he’s fighting back the laugh.

“I’ll hold you to that promise. Lunch today, noon.”

He leaves, and I’m a swirl of giddy heat. That a man like Thomas is playful with me, while at the same time actually fucking brilliant and powerful, is a combination that hits me right in my heart. And lower.

I get to work, cranking through as much of the analysis as I can, knowing that it’ll be a process that takes weeks to truly get a thorough look at the resort’s financials. And before I know it, the morning has flown by.

I hurry upstairs, walking into Thomas’s twenty-fifth floor office to see Kerry rather obviously listening to a meeting behind the closed door.

“What’s going on?” I whisper.

She jumps a foot in the air, eyes going wide. But then she glares at me for scaring her and I shake to keep the laughter quiet.

We’re not exactly best buddies, but things are friendlier after our lunch trip to The Gravy Train yesterday. I’d invited her, wanting to get to know her.

“So, I have ulterior motives for lunch today,” I’d told her boldly.

“I expected as much. Look, I’m strictly Thomas’s assistant. There’s never been anything between us, never so much as a wayward glance. On his part or on mine. And it’s going to stay that way.” She nods her head with certainty.

With a grin, I reassure her. “Honestly, that hadn’t even entered my mind, but thank you for that. What I was thinking is that we’re all part of the same team, both for Goldstone and for Thomas. I just want to know the woman who controls Thomas’s work life and admittedly, get you on our side so that any gossip-hounds won’t use you as a source.”

I’m never one to beat around the bush, but this is as blatant as I can be.

I can see the leeriness on her face as she carefully says, “Uh, I like my job. Like how it lets me pay for my kid’s braces without taking out a second mortgage. So I’m not inclined to do much of anything that’d put my paycheck on the line. And that includes gossip, about you or to you.”

“Oh, no, this isn’t a twisted way of pumping you for info! I’m going about this all wrong, I guess. I just want us to be friends, or friendly. I just... Thomas is important to me.” I slouch, feeling in over my head and like my good intentions didn’t pan out as planned.

She pats my hand, letting me off the hook. “I understand. Can I tell you something? Not gossip, but just an observation?” At my nod, she says, “I’ve worked for Thomas for years, since he had a tiny office in a building of suites. Well before he was Mr. Goldstone of Goldstone Inc. with the second-largest skyscraper in all of Roseboro. Point is, I’ve seen a lot. And this is the happiest I’ve seen him. That’s because of you. He’s never had someone, not his family, not friends, not women. But with you, there’s something different.”

Something in the way she listed out who he’s never had gives me pause. “What do you know about his family?”

Kerry shakes her head. “That’s getting closer to gossip, and I won’t do that, but I know his dad is on the short list for security to keep an eye on if he comes in without an appointment. And I know that you have free access to his office and the penthouse.” She smiles, the importance she places on those things apparent.

Back in her office, she whispers so quietly I have to lean close. “Thomas has Nathan Billington in there on blast.”

“Eek,” I mouth soundlessly. “How bad?”

She presses her lips. “Grade-three on a scale of five.”

I shrug, smirking. “Not so bad, right?” Her perfectly sculpted raised brow says otherwise.

Through the door, we both hear Thomas’s raised voice. “Get the fuck out, Nathan!”

Ouch. I’d call that a four.

We scramble back to Kerry’s desk, her plopping in the chair and me perching on the edge unnaturally. I’m sure we look just as guilty as we are, but Nathan stomps by red-faced without a glance our way.

Kerry looks at me with the most saccharine of smiles. “Mr. Goldstone will see you now.”

Though we don’t laugh, there’s a shared giggle in our eyes. She just might be the Thelma to my Louise yet. At least at the office.

I knock lightly on the door, sticking my head in carefully. “Hey... bad time?”

Thomas is standing by the window, looking over Roseboro with his hands in his pockets. He doesn’t look back as he invites me in, his voice calming down as he talks. “No, lunch is just what I need.” But the words are heavy, as if they cost him to say.

I go to him, running my hand up his back, tracing the tension in the muscles there. “What happened? I mean, if you want to talk about it.”

He turns, and I can see the storm clouds in his eyes as he growls, “Billington had a sexual harassment claim filed against him. Nothing hardcore. He told a classless and tasteless joke, but it was overheard by someone. He’s a VP, for fuck’s sake. He knows better.”

Thomas’ jaw works as he grits his teeth, and then he says in a measured tone, “And when I called him out on it, he had the audacity to say that at least he wasn’t seeing someone from the office. He didn’t use the words, but he might as well have said I was ‘fucking the help’ like it’s 1954 or some shit.”

I gasp, shock and discomfort washing through me that Nathan would’ve dared to throw our relationship in Thomas’s face, especially in such a crass way. One, that doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do. Two, our relationship is nothing like that. We’re consensually dating and being intentionally careful to not do anything that would smack of favoritism.

“Mudak. That asshole. Look, we know it’s not like that. If he threw that out there, it’s because he was desperate and knew he’d fucked up. Don’t let him push you to a place you don’t want to go. Blasting people or not, it’s not about them. It’s about you. I just want better for you because I know how hard that is on you.”

His shoulders drop, and he looks at me sideways as if he can’t fully meet my eyes. “I hear it sometimes, you know? Hear the words coming out of my mouth and hear my father screaming at me. But I don’t know how else to push—them or me.”

I smile, shrugging it off. “You just choose differently. Not everyone is motivated the same way, so you have to vary your approach to the person you’re reaming out. Sometimes soft, sometimes hard, sometimes direct, sometimes in a roundabout way.”

“Is that what you do with me?” he asks seriously. “Decide if it’s a ‘Thomas might break’ kind of day? Or if I can take the brutal truth?”

I shake my head, feeling more relaxed. “No, unfortunately, I’m a bit like you too, stuck in my ways and a bit ‘take it or leave it’, but maybe we can both work on being softer. Together?”

Before he can answer, there’s another knock at the door and Kerry bustles in. “Lunch is served.” She’s carrying two brown bags from a café down the street.

“I thought we were going out to lunch?” I ask, looking at Thomas.

Kerry answers, setting the bags down. “Yep, that was the plan. But every floor from here to the front door is talking about Nathan’s little snit, so I figured the two of you walking out hand-in-hand for a lunch date would send the wrong message. I took the liberty of ordering in for you.”

Thomas laughs as Kerry winks at me and mouths, “I got you.”

“Whose side are you on here, Kerry?”

She pats her hair, grinning. “My side. And that means keeping the boss happy. And that means keeping his woman happy.” She points between the two of us. “I also took the liberty of ordering myself lunch. On your card.”

As she shuts the door, she calls back, “Don’t forget you have a conference call at one.”

Her whirlwind has broken the tension, settled the dust from Thomas’s anger and my shock, so we sit down to eat, making the most of the few minutes we have.

“Oh, I’m sending out a meeting request to the hospital group for tomorrow. I’m going to announce my decision. I’m going with your recommendation.”

“Which one?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “The first or the second one?”

“The real one,” Thomas replies, his smile reappearing but still weak. “I still haven’t figured out how the file was changed. I had IT look into it because of the discrepancies, and the print order was done from Randall’s computer. But they checked his files and the network, and both show the file was unchanged. The changes happened between your email and his inbox, which isn’t possible, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. And that worries me.”

“It’s probably just a blip. Just a random ID-ten-T error,” I say, confused but mostly just glad we caught the error.

“I’m not an idiot, nor do I think this was a random error. In fact, I was wondering if you’d help me with a special assignment?”

I lick my lips, wiggling my eyebrows. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, that too,” he says with a laugh. “But the fact that an error like that could happen once makes me curious whether it’s happened before. I want you to go back through the last few years’ projects, investments, and such. Focus on the ones where we didn’t do as well as early projections had forecast. I want to see if there are any trends.”

“Well, I can tell you one trend right off the bat,” I tease.

“What’s that?”

“One person made the final decision each time. PEBKAC.” I say with all seriousness.

“PEBKAC?” Thomas asks, and I nod. “I’ll bite. What’s PEBKAC?”

“Problem Exists Between Keyboard And Chair,” I answer. “In this case, it could just be that you’ve made some bad decisions, Thomas. No investment is risk-free.”

Thomas nods, and I see his shiver as he considers my point. I’m saying it clearly that he’s possibly made mistakes. He’s not perfect... he could be wrong.

“Point taken,” he finally acknowledges, “but if that’s the case, I need to know that too. Focus on the resort analysis first, but after that’s done, if you can start the big job, I’d like you to keep me up to date.”

“Of course.”

“Speaking of dates... you up for dinner at my place after work tomorrow night?” he asks, pointing upstairs. “I know it’s a long way, but—”

“But you want to give me time to pack some spare work clothes,” I remark, getting to my feet. “I think I can be convinced of that... if you let me have a little bit of space in your closet to hang things up. I demand at least two hangers.”

“Tough negotiator, but I’m pretty sure I can do that,” Thomas says.