Chapter 4

Prin took a desk near to the window. He had a long list of IT problems to sort out and didn't want to be distracted by the latest office gossip. His team had long since given up trying to get him involved. They knew he disapproved. Even so, they would spend most of the day talking about this person or that person.

With a yawn, Prin opened his emails. Even more tasks had been added since he'd last checked. How did people have IT emergencies at eleven o'clock at night?

Whatever. Prin liked to be busy so he would attack his to-do list with the same gusto he usually did.

Then an email from Scott Fitzgerald caught his eye. Prin hadn't had much to do with Scott. Truth be told he found him a little intimidating. Scott exuded confidence and was drop-dead gorgeous. He also had a tendency of being seriously annoying.

After taking a sip of his tea, he clicked on it.

It had been sent to all managers. Prin frowned at the subject line.

POTENTIAL THEFT: PLEASE TREAT CONFIDENTIALLY

He read on. It appeared a large amount of stock had gone missing. In the year that Prin had been working for Pleasure Seekers, he'd never heard of anything like this happening.

It wasn't necessarily a surprise. In the last eighteen months, they had recruited so many new staff the company had doubled in size. It stood to reason that there would be at least one bad apple in the mix. Even so, Prin had been part of the security refresh project over the previous summer. It would take someone with serious skills to get anything more than the odd fleshlight out of the place. From the tone of Scott's email, it sounded like it was much more than that.

Elliott Brammin, the boss's son and member of Prin's team, sat down at a desk close to his colleagues. Prin glanced at his watch. It had gone ten. Punctuality didn't seem to be one of Elliott's skills.

"What a weekend I have had," Elliott said as he fired up his laptop. "We took the boat out and went down to Worthing. Had to leave it there. We got so fucked up."

He caught Prin's eye. "Good morning," Elliott said.

"Hi, Elliott."

"Here's me going on about my weekend when all we really want to know is, what do you do at weekends? Sit in silence?"

Darren and Lydia, the other two IT helpdesk engineers, stared at him.

"I…I volunteer at the local college, actually."

"Very community spirited. Dad thinks I'll end up doing community service. I can't see it myself," Elliott said.

Lydia opened her mouth to say something then thought better of it.

"Anyway," Elliott continued. "Let me tell you about this pub in Worthing. They bet me drinks for everyone that I couldn't down a pint in five seconds."

"Did you do it?" Darren asked.

"Nah," Elliott replied. "Bloody seven."

"You had to buy everyone a drink."

Elliott nodded his head. "Mad, eh? Cost me a bloody fortune."

"Elliott."

They all jumped to attention. The imposing presence of the IT Director, Richard Brammin, did that to people.

"Hi, Dad."

Everyone other than his son. Richard was standing behind Prin and glaring at everyone.

"You're late with the server reports. I want them now."

"But—"

"I said now."

Elliott shrugged.

Richard beckoned Prin to one side. He leapt up from his desk and followed him.

"Why am I having to beg for these reports?" Richard snarled when they were out of earshot of the rest of the team.

"I had no idea you were waiting."

"You're his bloody manager, aren't you?"

For any other member of staff, Prin would have told Richard how workshy he'd found Elliott and let Richard tear a strip from him. He had a feeling it would be career limiting to give Richard that kind of a report about his son.

"I'll keep a closer eye on him," he managed.

They stared at each other. Prin's toes were curling.

"Was there something you wanted?" Richard asked.

"Did you get the email from HR?" Prin asked.

"The theft?"

"Yeah. I wonder who it is. They'd have to be pretty clued up to get away with that."

"I don't really care," Richard replied. "All I know is it's not someone from our department."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I do," Richard fired back, his face bright red. "We don't need to start inventing trouble. Let HR do whatever they want."

Prin took a step away. "Sure."

Richard walked away, signalling the conversation was over.

Even for him that was a strong reaction. Prin took the opportunity to bolt back to his desk. Elliott was on a computer game website instead of doing the reports.

Honestly, this kid.

"I'd take your dad seriously, Elliott," Prin said. "If you don't get those reports to him, he'll blow his top."

Elliott shrugged. "He's already cut my allowance for leaving the boat in Worthing."

"You get an allowance?" Lydia asked.

"Of course I get an allowance," Elliott replied. "You don't expect me to live off the pittance they pay here?"

Darren glanced at Prin and rolled his eyes. Prin smirked. At least Elliott had achieved one thing—he'd united the team in their dislike for him.

"Imagine," Lydia said.

"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it. It's just my life costs more."

Prin's head ached. "Elliott. Can you get those reports done. Please?"

Elliott raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Sorry, boss. Chill yourself. Someone's not getting any."

"If I have to say it again, I'm escalating it."

Even Elliott wouldn't risk getting a telling-off from his father twice in one day. With a huff, he clicked onto the reporting software. Prin moved his laptop so he sat directly behind Elliott.

"Why don't you sit on my shoulder?" Elliott grumbled.

"That's the next stage."

Elliott got on with his work at last. Prin read through some emails with one eye on his screen and the other on the spoilt little rich kid in front of him.

Sadly Elliott had been right about one thing. Prin was frustrated. He and his neighbour, Jeremy, would sometimes spend the night together. But Prin's heart most certainly wasn't in it.

If his Prince Charming was going to make an appearance, now would be a great time.

A few days later and Prin was sinking under a tide of calls. One of the servers had gone offline, which meant a ton of homeworkers had lost connection. Darren and Lydia were also looking frazzled. They were all sharing the calls. Even so, the system told Prin that plenty were queued.

As he finished up one from a particularly angry colleague from sales, he took his headset off and ran his hands through his hair. His eye was drawn to Elliott's screen as Prin still insisted on sitting behind his workshy charge. While his teammates strove to help as many people as possible, Elliott appeared to be booking a holiday.

Anger rose in Prin. He might be quiet but this guy was pushing him over the edge. Prin got up and strode over to Elliott.

"I need to book it quickly," Elliott was saying, evidently oblivious to Prin's approach. "Don't worry about that. There's plenty more where that came from."

Prin frowned.

"If you pay, I'll give you the cash," Elliott continued. "I can't let it go through my bank. Just in case."

Prin quickly moved away. He glanced around. No one seemed to have noticed him lurking behind Elliott. They were all too busy staring at their screens.

"Elliott," Prin barked, making Elliott jump.

"What?"

"The server went down because you messed up the reports," Prin said. "I think it would be a decent gesture if you had at least one call assigned to you today."

"I've got to go," Elliott said into his phone before sliding it into his pocket. "Fine. Sorry for taking a micro break."

Mercifully, Elliott clicked on the customer support software and actually started to work.

Prin grabbed his own headset. The calls had built up again. They would have to wait. Prin's heart was racing and he needed to take a second.

Why would Elliott do that? It's not as if he needs the money.

Prin needed to think. Richard had made it perfectly clear that he didn't want trouble in the department. Prin knew deep down he should pretend he never heard or saw anything. Yet, his parents then his nanny had raised him differently. All his life he'd been told to do the right thing. He'd also wanted to make his parents proud. This time being no exception.

Unable to focus on a call, he threw his headset down again and headed off to the bathroom. At least there he could get five minutes' peace to work out what the hell to do.

On his way, Richard intercepted him. He had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. A bit like a great white shark.

Shit, did he see me standing over his son?

"Prin," Richard barked.

"Yes, Richard," Prin replied.

"How is it going over there? Are the calls any less?"

Prin scratched his head. "Not really. The server is running again but the diagnostics will take another half an hour at least. We're routing the essential people to the second server. Others will have to wait."

Richard glanced to where the team were busy.

"Is Elliott pulling his weight?"

Prin's whole body tensed.

Major hazard alert.

"I'm sure he's doing his best," he said.

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Prin. If there's one thing about you that really pisses me off, it's when you don't say what you mean. Is Elliott doing everything in his power to solve this or not?"

Prin stared Richard in the eye. "Elliott is booking a holiday, Richard."

The wave of adrenalin that followed these words almost knocked Prin over. He had never been that brave before. Yet, Richard had asked for it, so really, Prin was still being one-hundred-percent obedient.

"A holiday?" Richard said. "With what?"

He glared over at his son before turning back to Prin.

"Breathe a word of this and I'll make your life a living hell. Do you understand?"

Prin nodded.

Richard stormed off towards the team. Prin watched him. He had never seen his boss so angry and there had been many occasions where Richard had lost his temper.

Weird.

Colin put a plate of roast chicken, potatoes and vegetables in front of Prin. It smelt incredible. The weather had reverted back to being a little colder and Prin couldn't wait to dive in.

"This looks amazing," Prin said, staring down at the plate.

"It's only a roast," Colin replied, sitting.

He'd pulled out all the stops with linen napkins and the best china. Colin gestured to a gravy boat in the shape of a swan.

"Help yourself," Colin continued. "I like to drown my dinner in the stuff. I often forget not everyone does."

Prin poured the thick sauce onto his meal. At first he had been unsure of gravy but he'd soon come round.

"Thank you," Prin said, replacing the jug.

Once more, Prin's gaze rested on the sideboard that had a slew of photographs featuring Colin.

"No, thank you," Colin replied. "I haven't made a proper dinner in such a long time. One doesn't for oneself. Far too much bother."

Prin didn't know what to eat first.

"I've not had a home-cooked roast dinner," he said. "I've been out to pubs. This looks so much better."

Usually he went alone. He didn't add that piece of information. Prin knew how sad that sounded.

"Nothing beats homemade," Colin replied.

Prin cut into the chicken that had been perfectly cooked so his knife slid through it. His mouth was watering as he speared a piece and popped it in his mouth. The meat and gravy taste exploded on his tongue.

"Oh, Colin," he said. "That's perfection."

Colin grinned. "You can come again."

"I certainly will."

Prin set about carving a piece of roast potato.

"How has work been?" Colin asked.

Prin speared a piece of broccoli to accompany the potato. That was quite the question.

"You know. The usual."

Colin frowned. "That sounds like there's something wrong. Out with it."

They hadn't known one another very long. Even so, Colin had the type of stare that reminded Prin of his nanny. She'd also been able to detect when he was covering things up.

"Wow," Prin said. "You're good."

He took a bite of his meal and hoped that Colin might abandon this line of questioning.

"Well?"

Evidently not.

"There's been a theft at work," Prin said. "A big one."

"I dread to think what's gone missing. Go on, tell me."

"A consignment of dildos."

This time Colin threw his head back and laughed. "Oh dear. Let's hope the newspapers don't get hold of it. The opportunity for some ripe headlines would be too much for them to resist."

Prin smiled weakly. Of course he saw the funny side of it. However, since he'd witnessed Elliott's phone call, he'd been worrying about things relentlessly.

"Don't tell me you're mixed up in it," Colin said.

"Of course not," Prin replied. "I don't need the money. I think I know who it is though."

Colin put his knife and fork down. "Then you must tell the higher-ups. Otherwise that makes you an accessory."

Prin hadn't even considered that. It would be typical of his luck to lose his job by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Do you think so?"

Colin nodded. "Years ago I got a gig crooning on a Caribbean cruise liner. Bottles of whiskey were going missing. I knew it was the head chef. Let's say we'd grown close. Anyway, it soon became obvious he had a drinking problem."

"What happened?"

"I fancied myself in love with him," Colin said. "Turned out he'd been caught doing it before. They did a cabin search. The swine had shifted them into mine beforehand. They threw me off in Grenada. And that's how my career on the high seas ground to a halt. Permanently."

Prin frowned. "That's terrible. Didn't he stick up for you?"

Colin shook his head. "Not one peep left his lips. He was senior to me so they took his word over mine. I don't even like whiskey. Terrible stuff."

"You were a singer then?"

"All my life," Colin replied, proudly. "I once shared a stage with the great George Lomax. Right here in Brighton. I've got the programme somewhere. I'll dig it out for you."

Prin chewed on a piece of chicken. It was so succulent. Most places served up dry meat. Certainly not Colin.

"Problem is," he said, "the suspect is my boss's son."

"Oh dear. That does give things an unpleasant edge. What's your boss like?"

"He makes Gordon Ramsay look like an angel."

Colin seemed lost in thought for a second.

"I'll tell you what," he mused. "If the news comes out some other way, I bet they wouldn't hesitate to drop you in it. No, I think you need to focus on self-preservation, Prin, my lad. Is there anyone else to confide in?"

Prin considered it for a second. There was only one other person. "Yeah," he said. "Although he's a really loud queen. I'm not sure I can trust him."

A twinkle appeared in Colin's eye. "I think we can all say we've been a loud queen once in a while. And if not, then maybe it's high time we did."

Prin chewed on a piece of potato and thought about it. As it stood, Scott Fitzgerald was the best option he had.