Chapter 4

Chapter Four

“ T hat is most definitely not Lucy,” Alistair says as his eyes follow Shardonnay out of the room.

Picking up a pen, I hurl it at him. “Stop checking out my secretary,” I grunt.

“What happened to Lucy?”

“She’s probably gone into hiding, because I’m going to fucking kill her for doing this to me.”

“Doing what?” he asks.

“Setting me up, sending her little friend out here instead.”

“So, she’s a friend of your sister’s.” Then his eyes bulge out of his fucking head. “Wait… that’s the friend . Isn’t it?” he says.

“Shh, shut it.” I point a finger at him.

“Holy shit, it is.” He cranes his neck to look through the glass walls at Shardonnay. She’s sitting at her desk. I have a clear view of her from here. Pressing a button on the remote, I fog the glass over. Effectively blocking her from our line of sight. “Well, shit, man, I can see why that girl’s had you all up in a tizzy. For years.” Alistair smirks.

“Not a fucking word. She’s Lucy’s best friend, nothing more. And stop fucking checking her out.”

Alistair holds up his hands. “Got it, off-limits. You’ve called dibs.” He stands before buttoning up his jacket.

“I haven’t called dibs. She’s an employee; we don’t touch employees,” I warn him. It’s the number one rule we’ve all agreed on, and to my knowledge, none of us have broken it.

“Right, you might want to reevaluate that one, because you’re already a goner for that girl. How are you going to be able to handle working with her all day, every day?”

“Easy, the more time I have to listen to the shit that comes out of her mouth, the more I realise I can’t fucking stand her.”

Alistair laughs, exiting my office. And I pick up the phone and call Lucy. It goes to voicemail, which doesn’t surprise me.

“Lucy Lu, call me back. You have some bloody explaining to do, sister.” I hang up and throw the phone on my desk.

Opening the paper bag, I smile. A blueberry muffin. Was it a lucky guess or does Shardonnay know these are my favourite?

The intercom buzzes before her voice filters through the speaker. “Mr Christianson, your nine a.m. is here, sir.”

Fuck me, I’m going to need her to go back to using my first name. My cock likes it a bit too much when she calls me sir. Opening my calendar, I look at who the fuck I have scheduled for this morning and groan when I realise it’s Andrew Mathers. Some white-collar idiot who was caught embezzling funds. He’s facing up to ten years. Although I have my suspicions that he’s covering for his wife. I can’t blame him. If I had a wife, there’s no way I’d let her see a day behind bars either.

But, fuck, he’s being played and can’t even see it. There’s five million dollars of company funds missing from the tech firm he owned. The withdrawals are all in his name, yet he can't tell me where the cash went. Which isn’t unusual in this type of case. Except, with Mathers, it isn’t just a won’t tell me where he’s stashed the money; it’s a can’t tell me. Because the fucker honestly doesn’t know. I can tell when my clients are lying to me. And this guy has no fucking clue.

“Send him in,” I respond to Shardonnay. I stand when the door opens, and Shardonnay smiles politely, gesturing for Mathers to enter. She closes the door behind her as soon as he steps over the threshold. I press the button and clear the glass walls again for no other reason than I want to be able to see her.

“Xavier, it’s good to see you.” Mathers holds out his hand.

And I take it. “Have a seat.” Sitting back down, I find his file on top of the pile on my desk. “We’re still trying to track down the money, Andrew. You need to prepare yourself though. If we can’t find it, you are facing time. How long, I can’t say.”

“It is what it is.” He shrugs. I sigh and run my fingers through my hair. I don’t lose many cases, and because this little fucker won’t open his goddamn eyes when it comes to his wife, my hands are tied.

“Has Mrs Mathers returned from her trip yet? I’d love to speak with her?” I ask.

“Why?”

“I’ve told you before. If we can trace where the money went once it hit your joint account, then we can prove that it wasn’t you who stole it.”

“There has to be another way. My wife wouldn’t have done this to me,” he says with so much confidence.

“Andrew, the deposits were put into an account with your and your wife’s names. Only two people had access to that account. If it wasn’t you, it only leaves her.” I’ve had this conversation with him a million times. I know I’m wasting my breath, but I’d be a shit lawyer if I didn’t at least try to convince him to get himself out of this mess. I’m okay with losing cases when I know the defendant is guilty. What I’m not okay with is an innocent man going to jail. He doesn’t realise the repercussions this will have on the rest of his life.

“It wasn’t her. Look, I don’t know who it was but I know it wasn’t her,” he says.

“Okay, well, your hearing is set for two weeks’ time. We’re going to have a mock trial. I want you as prepared as possible for cross examination. I’ll have Shardonnay call and pencil you in for that,” I tell him. “In the meantime, my guy is still working on tracing those transactions.”

“Thanks, Xavier, for everything.” He stands to leave.

I wait for him to exit the office before pressing the button on the telecom. “Shardonnay, could you come in please?”

“Sure thing, boss,” she sings in reply.

I roll my eyes at her chirpy tone. What the hell does she have to be so damn happy about?

“What can I do for you?” she asks.

“Have you been down to see HR yet?”

“Not yet? I was waiting for your meeting to finish, in case you needed something.”

“What I need is for you to go to HR, fill out the paperwork, and get the equipment you need to be able to do your job,” I grunt.

“Okay, well, I’ll go do that now.”

“I’m also going to need your mobile number,” I tell her before she can leave.

We have a stare down for a brief moment. She’s kidding herself if she thinks I’ll be the first to look away. “Why?” she asks, not breaking eye contact.

“You’re my secretary, and unfortunately, there will be times I have to call you for shit. Just put your number in my phone.” Unlocking the screen, I hand her the device.

I don’t miss how her lips tip up as she types in her number. “I’ve sent myself a text so I can save yours.”

“Great.”

“Great,” she says, depositing my phone on my desk and walking out.

I’ve done my best to avoid Shardonnay at all costs for most of the day. It’s not easy to avoid your own secretary. Leaving the office for a court hearing and not returning helped a lot.

It’s five of five, meaning she’s about to knock off. That’s when I plan to head back into the office and get some work done in peace. I’m pathetic, as I wait in my car in the carpark. It’s my fucking office. My building. Why the hell am I the one hiding out?

Getting out of my car, I pick up my briefcase and slam the door. My phone pings with an incoming email as I wait for the elevator.

From: Shardonnay Mitchell

Xavier,

Your schedule for tomorrow is attached. I’ve also booked a reservation at La Port for your meeting with Benjamin Kipner. I noticed you were booked back-to-back all day without a lunch break. Even the devil has to eat. Who knows? They might allow you to dine on all those unsuspecting souls at a fancy place like that.

You’re welcome,

Shar

I shouldn’t be smiling at her smart-ass email. I shouldn’t be impressed. I open the attachment and see that she’s listed out my whole day, has even gone as far as to put bullet point notes next to every meeting. How she managed to figure out the purpose of each, I have no idea. I’ll have to remember to ask her when I see her next. Thankfully, by the time I make it back to my office, she’s gone. But she’s left a note on my desk.

I’ve gone for the day. If you need me tonight, don’t. I’ll be plotting your death with your sister.

She didn’t sign it off, but she didn’t need to. Scrunching up the piece of paper, I toss it in the trash. I’m tempted to text her, call her. Come up with a reason why she needs to return to the office. Ruin whatever plans she has with Lucy.

Lucy, who still hasn’t called me back. The little witch is not going to get away with this. I will get payback. Picking up my phone, I dial my sister’s number again. Surprisingly, the call connects after a few rings.

“Xav, I’m busy. Can the lecture wait?” she asks.

“No, it bloody well can’t. What on earth were you thinking, Lucy?” I yell through the receiver.

“I was thinking that Shar hasn’t been able to catch a break since her mum got sick. I was also thinking that you needed a secretary who wouldn’t be coming on to you every other minute. It was a kill two birds with one stone kind of scenario,” she rushes out her explanation.

“What do you mean her mum is sick?” I ask.

“What?”

“You just said Shardonnay hasn’t been able to catch a break since her mum got sick. What’s wrong with her mum?” I ask again.

“Xavier, her mum died six months ago. Do you not listen to anything I tell you?” Her voice is laced with genuine sadness.

“She died? I didn’t know…”

“Look, Shar needs this job, Xav. She’s saving so she can actually go to uni next year. She had to defer to care for her mum. She’s trying to get her life back on track. Don’t take this opportunity away from her. Please.”

Damn it, how the fuck can I find a reason to fire the girl now? “You’ve learnt that whole guilt trip thing from mum way too well, Lucy.” I sigh.

“So you won’t fire her?” she pleads.

“For now.”

“No, promise me, Xav. Whatever happens, you won’t fire her. If it’s so unbearable to be around her—which I know it isn’t, being that she’s my best friend and all, so she’s obviously awesome—but if you can’t handle her awesomeness, then just put her in a different position within the company.”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“You promise me you won’t fire her, that’s how.”

“Fine, I promise I won’t fire your little friend.” I find myself agreeing with my sister's madness.

“Great, see you at Sunday dinner. Mum and Dad were not impressed you were a no-show yesterday.”

“Can’t wait.”