20. Charleigh

TWENTY

CHARLEIGH

EIGHTEEN YEARS OLD

She was in the small alcove making copies at the machine, a mindless job that she hated, as if her intelligence was offering anything to the company the way Frederick Winston had implied when he'd suggested she intern.

It was boring, tedious work that she could have done asleep.

But there she was, stuck for the summer. What was she supposed to do when Frederick had returned to the dining room proclaiming she was going to be joining them, and one minute later, he'd announced her father was getting the promotion?

She knew with the look Frederick had cut her that it was subject to her complying.

Why?

That was what she wasn't entirely sure about, although she figured the guy liked wielding his power. Tossing it around like a game, pulling strings and finding out who was happy to play his puppet.

One thing for certain?

She wasn't happy .

Not in the least.

She was supposed to be shadowing a pediatrician for the summer.

But this? This was her lot, but it was only for a couple months. She could handle it if it gave her father that extra nudge toward his own goals and dreams.

He'd sacrificed everything for his family, worked like crazy to give them anything they needed and more, and if she was happy about one thing, it was that she could give a little bit of that back to him, even though he had no clue he was working for a creep.

Everyone thought Frederick was this great guy. Constantly donating money to charities. Coming into the office and showering his staff in compliments and bonuses when they met their goals.

Running things right .

Tech's Man of the Year.

But there was something about him that set her on edge. Something that slithered like sickness beneath her skin whenever he came into the room.

He'd never been outright inappropriate with her, but she hated the way he looked at her. As if he were devouring her innocence. Like he could tell she was inexperienced and shy and wanted to feed off it.

Where he fell short is he assumed her inexperience made her weak.

She wasn't, though.

Her mother had always told her she had a quiet strength, and she gathered it up when she felt the sticky presence enclose on her from behind.

She blew out a strained breath, focusing on her job and doing her best to pretend like Frederick Winston wasn't there, which was impossible considering the tiny room she was boxed in left him three feet away from her where he hovered in the doorway.

"How is it going in here?" he asked.

"Fine," she said. She didn't think the mundane task warranted a deeper explanation.

"You're doing great. A true benefit to the company. "

She was glad she was facing away from him so he couldn't see the roll of her eyes.

Was he serious?

When she didn't reply, he took a step forward, and his voice lowered a fraction. "A true benefit."

He dragged his fingertips down the back of her neck, and she gasped as she whirled on him. "What do you think you're doing?"

He smiled an arrogant, casual smile. "What exactly are you referring to?"

"You know what I mean. I don't appreciate you touching me."

His chuckle was amused. Mocking even. "Oh, I haven't begun to touch you, Sweet Pea ."

Shock speared her to the spot before dread went sailing through her spirit. Her chest grew heavy, heaving with disbelieving breaths as awareness pulsed through her system.

Did he really think she was going to succumb to this? Yield to him because he was what? Powerful? Rich?

She shook her head because she wasn't going to put herself through this bullshit. "I don't think so. I quit."

She moved to wind around him, only he snatched her by the wrist to stop her. His mouth was at her ear, and the easy tenor he normally spoke with had disappeared. In its place was malignancy. "I would reconsider the choices you make."

She jerked her arm free, muttering, "Screw you."

She hurried out to her cubicle and grabbed her things. She hoped this didn't reflect poorly on her father, but she wasn't about to put herself through this.

Not for anything.

So, she walked out without looking back.

A light tapping sounded at her bedroom door before her mother cracked it open enough to pop her head through. "Are you decent? I have some mail for you. "

She straightened where she was sitting with her legs crisscrossed on her bed, doodling in a journal, trying to figure out how she was going to break the news to her father that she'd walked out this afternoon.

She gave her mother a playful grin. "If I wasn't decent, would it matter?"

Her mother chuckled. "Sorry, sorry, I was used to barging into your room for years, and I keep forgetting that you're basically grown, and I need to give you some privacy."

"It's honestly fine. You know I don't mind."

It wasn't like she was hiding a boy under her bed or in the closet, though she'd been texting with this guy Scott who'd been in one of her classes last year, and she was hoping something might come of it.

Her mother pushed through and handed her a small stack of mail. "Here you go."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Your father is grilling if you want to join us for dinner, unless you have plans?"

"No plans other than hanging out in here. Does he need any help?"

Unease rippled through her at the thought of having to face him, but she figured she should just rip the Band-Aid off. And she'd be doing it in a big way.

She intended to tell her father what had actually happened and then make a complaint to HR about it.

It sucked, but she knew it was the right thing to do. She doubted she was the first intern or employee that he'd harassed that way. She couldn't ignore it.

"No, he should be fine. It should be ready in about ten minutes."

"I'll be down soon then."

"Okay, love you, Sweet Pea," her mother said as she walked out and pulled the door shut behind her.

Once her mother left, she turned to the small stack of mail. She didn't get a lot of it, and it was usually junk mail, which most of it was.

She flipped through the pile. A coupon for a free coffee at a local café that she'd signed up to receive discounts from and an invitation to attend an event at the local library.

But there was a big manila envelope at the bottom that caught her attention.

She frowned since it only had her name and address on it, and she realized it wasn't even postmarked. Whoever had sent this had put it directly in their mailbox.

Trepidation needled into her consciousness, but she ignored it and ripped into it, and she spilled the contents out onto her bed.

It was a bunch of documents.

Documents from Pygus Software.

She scanned them, uncertain of what they meant or why she'd received them.

Only it became clear very quickly.

Her heart clutched in disbelief.

It was a paper trail of her father's embezzlement.

Hundreds of thousands of dollars.

She felt sick. So sick.

She was trembling when she found the note at the very back, this one handwritten and unsigned, though she immediately knew who it was from.

It would be a shame for this to make its way to the authorities, wouldn't it? Your father would be seventy before he was eligible for parole. Half his life wasted. Your mother alone.

And the only thing it costs to stop it is one night.

One night.

One night.

Lightheadedness swept through her brain, bile climbing up her throat as she tried to process what the man was propositioning.

She understood extortion.

Blackmail.

She could call Frederick's bluff. Toss it back in his face as bullshit.

Ignore it altogether .

Or she could go to the authorities with it. But Frederick had power and reputation. She knew it could easily be swept under the rug.

And if this was real? If the proof he was showing her was true? It would expose her father. His sins.

She didn't go down that night. She couldn't look at her father and question what he'd been involved in. Couldn't stomach the truth. Couldn't fathom the way it would tear apart their family.

One night.

One night.

A war waged inside her as she flopped uneasily in her bed, horrified by the proposal. By what it would mean. At what she'd be giving up. The disgust she would feel.

But if one night could protect her father…

She gulped as she came to a decision, tears leaking out of the edges of her eyes as she succumbed to what she felt was the only choice she could make.

But maybe she was na?ve, after all.

Na?ve to the extreme because she truly didn't know what Frederick Winston was capable of.