Chapter Two

Xavier

I stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the third floor. The light of day hadn't yet broken but staying in bed had not been an option. I'd done enough tossing and turning over the past few days to last me a damn lifetime. Even working out in my home gym until I was barely able to stand hadn't helped me to sleep.

My corporation—Worlds Apart, that was headquartered in Langer Falls and had offices in Europe, Asia, The Pacific, and Africa, was under siege by a traitor. Cillian, my best friend who had a forty percent ownership, and I, were no closer to finding him or her than we had been during our previous three releases of new and innovative products. Over the past fifteen years, someone in our midst was guilty of insider trading and we were stunned the authorities hadn't been able to track down the perpetrator.

I'd been informed the previous evening, via a call to my cell, that the Corporate Fraud undercover police team was going to take over the investigation…not before time…and I could expect to hear from their lead investigator, Detective Inspector Otsana Brooks in the next day or so. The name was unusual, and I had no idea if my contact was a man or woman. I hadn't dared ask for fear of being accused of discrimination.

Being honest, I was an asshole when it came to business and much preferred dealing with men. I blamed my father and grandfather for my attitude…wrongly, since I had been well aware of my bias for many years, and it was within my power to think and behave differently. The two men who'd had the most influence over my life were the pin-up men for chauvinism. My attitude was improving with age, and over the past decade, I'd signed off on employment for whoever was the best fit for the position advertised instead of on gender.

The bell on the elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and I stepped into the dimly lit, carpeted foyer.

Directly in front of me was a large reception desk where Pamela Astin spent her working days. She took control of any arrivals who had arranged to meet with me or Cillian. Only those who had made previous arrangements were given access to the elevator that led to the top floor of the corporation building.

The floor was carpeted in red with small gold fleur-de-lis peppered throughout. A large chandelier, currently dormant, hung from the ceiling in the center of the foyer. Six downlights, embedded in the ceiling were turned down low, providing security lighting. The desk was beautifully crafted from polished oak, and the counter was red glass surrounded by a thin strip of gold painted wood. The area was understated opulence that spoke of quality.

Aside from monitoring visitors, Pamela was tasked with signing off on all shipping. On the ground floor of the building were three men and five women who liaised with several shipping companies and kept Pamela informed of everything in the pipelines. Pammie, as Cillian insisted on calling the middle-aged woman who didn't seem to mind, had been with us for sixteen years and knew the position like the back of her hand.

I dreaded the day she made the decision to retire. I wondered if there was some law that would prevent her from doing so before she reached ninety. Kidding of course, she would retire with both my grateful thanks and my blessing.

I strode past the desk on the left and along a walkway that led to where my personal assistant sat outside my office suite. I groaned, knowing Betty would be gone soon as she and her husband were relocating to Florida. I wondered why everyone seemed to move to the southern state when they retired. Did they really move for the weather as mother had claimed when her and father did the same?

I needed to pull my finger out and set about hiring someone…something I should have done weeks ago but hadn't found time for, or being honest, it was something I'd been avoiding.

Betty was becoming desperate to leave and had offered to take care of hiring someone, but it was important I made the choice being it was me who would have to work with them. I made a mental note to call the employment agency later and ask them to send over a few candidates.

Cillian's office suite was identical to mine on the other side of the building. The entire floor was ours, and although it was close enough to keep my finger on the pulse of what was happening downstairs, the space satisfied my need for isolation.

I hated been the focus of attention and it took all my willpower to agree to an annual interview with radio, print, or television media. Reluctantly doing so helped keep media and the public on my side.

Cillian was the limelight whore. He thrived on attention and every interview he gave was professional to a fault while singing the praises of the corporation. For that reason, when inquiries from media hit my desk, they were quickly dispatched in his direction. Or rather to his personal assistant, Molly, a woman who had been his right hand for the past fourteen years.

Aged thirty-two, seven years our junior, Molly was married with two young children and strictly off limits to Cillian who had a reputation for being a playboy. To my skeptical surprise, Cillian had acknowledged her married status and always treated her with the utmost respect.

I entered my office, closed the door, and flipped the switch, flooding the space with bright light. Crossing to the beverage station, I turned on the coffee maker, and while waiting for coffee to brew, I walked over to my large oak desk where I spent the majority of my hours in each day. I unbuttoned and removed the gray suit jacket I'd worn and hung it on a coat tree beside the desk.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and after starting up my computer, I went back to the coffee station and poured a large mug full of the brew—black, as I preferred. After sitting back at my desk, I took a long sip of the liquid black gold and sighed.

When my office door was suddenly pushed open, I wasn't surprised to see who it was.

"Thought I smelled coffee."

Cillian poured a coffee for himself and dropped into the chair on the opposite side of my desk. I glanced at the watch on my wrist.

"Why are you here at 4.30 am?"

"Same reason you are…couldn't sleep. Trying to figure out this insider trading fuck up is driving me crazy. I spent last night with Maria but she's a dead end. If she does know something, she's not saying. I told her things weren't working out and it would be better if we didn't see each other again. She didn't seem to care. It was frustrating that nothing came of being with the woman because her family has tentacles everywhere and I really thought, being so fucking na?ve, she would let something she might have heard slip." Cillian sipped his coffee.

"Yeah, the lady is gorgeous, but the elevator doesn't go all the way to the top and I can imagine she was frustrating."

"What do we do now?"

"Wait…I guess. Evan Carmichael called me at home last night and said he has handed all their documentation over to the Corporate Fraud Squad. Someone will be contacting us in the next day or so. He didn't sound too happy about it, but I think the order came from above."

Cillian carded his fingers through his longish hair. Unlike mine, which was always combed neatly into place, Cillian's hair always looked like he'd been sitting in front of a fan for a few hours, and it stuck up in all directions. To be fair, he always tidied it before meeting with a client, so I never passed comment.

He dragged a foolscap notebook in front of him and plucked a pen from the pocket of his suit jacket.

"Let's start over and include everyone. Maybe putting it on paper, and not leaving anyone out, will flag something we've been missing on the computer."

I shrugged. "Guess we have nothing to lose."

"Okay…this bullshit started five days before the Matilda release date was announced around fifteen years ago." Cillian wrote down '15 years—Matilda.' "That was the first time our stocks spiked, and when we first alerted the authorities."

"List who started with the company a little before that time," I instructed.

Cillian shook his head. "We have been focusing on those hired a year or so before Matilda, and I think we're wrong. We need to include everyone we hired in establishing the company up until Matilda was released. The only thing we can be somewhat sure of is…it probably isn't someone employed after Matilda."

"I hate that it could be someone who has been with us since the beginning."

"I agree which is why I've supported your decision to leave their names out of investigations, but the time has come that we have to include everyone."

"I know you're right, but it hurts to think it could be one of our long-standing, trusted employees."

"I feel the same but it's time we started suspecting everyone…Except us of course."

I laughed. "You're an idiot to even think we could suspect each other. It's not likely we would sabotage our own company and risk going to jail."

"Hey, little less of the idiot, thanks. There are plenty of executives in this country who are caught taking part in sabotage of the companies they own, or work for, and participating in unethical practices."

"This is true. Okay…names."

We listed the names of all the executive staff we'd employed from the beginning.

As I'd confessed to my best friend, it hurt to think it may be one of the men, or women, in whom Cillian and I had placed our trust.