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“Where’s Ms. Thompson?”
“Oh, she had plans tonight.” Tabitha’s voice brightens at the mention of Callie, and my jaw clenches. Another Callie fan. Of course. It was the fucking cupcakes.
“Did she say where?” Not that I would go and interrupt her, because that would be insane.
“No. Sorry. Oh, and Mr. Crown? I’m going to head out for the day. My husband is taking me out for my birthday.” She sounds nervous and it’s probably my fault.
“Sure. Go ahead. Happy birthday,” I say absently and hang up.
Plans. When she’s supposed to be here. I should call her back to the office. An image of her laughing with a gaggle of faceless women fills my mind. And then an image of her in a dimly lit restaurant, charming a man with those huge blue eyes and that tinkling laugh. Tomorrow. I don’t need her tonight.
So all you do is work then? You’re never out with friends or away for the weekend?
Her words ring in my ears. And suddenly, for the first time in my life, I feel lonely.
15
Jonah
Callie is snooping again. I can hear her speaking with George in hushed tones. I’m going to call her into my office as soon as this conference call is over. Sean, my head of security, is explaining the measures his team is taking to determine the scope of a data breach this morning and the identity of the hacker. Sean has worked for me since the events of six years ago, and he’s excellent at what he does. When Dylan got serious a few years back, Sean deployed around-the-clock monitoring for any mention of me, my family, or Kings Lane. Recently, that’s meant waking to an inbox full of articles written by Callie.
I’m only half listening to Sean. I know the attack was from Dylan. I can feel it in my gut. It’s been like this for years. All will be quiet, and then he’ll pop up with a takedown article, or poach one of our employees, small stuff like that. Until two years ago, when he approached Theo about selling his shares. The attacks have escalated since then, become more personal. Now he’s hacking our servers.
It’s even more imperative that I take him down. Before he can cause real damage.
The call ends. Time to see what Callie Thompson can do.
“Thompson. Stop snooping and get in here,” I bark.
She appears in the door, fidgeting with her hair. She should be nervous. I’m in a foul mood and seeing her does not make it better. I’m supposed to be using her, making her miserable. I should be halfway to ruining her and Dylan. There should be bags under her eyes. Instead, she looks fresh and unbothered in an electric blue wrap dress that makes her eyes seem brighter than usual and her curves more alluring. Her hair is down and just messy enough to make it look like she had good sex last night. Did she have sex last night? She had plans. Maybe she had a date. My stomach pinches uncomfortably. I shouldn’t care about her, and yet, something about the line of her neck and the sweep of her thick eyelashes makes my palms sweat. Fuck. I’m turned on and awkward. I’m never awkward. Cool frustration is my default, and I sink back into that. I scowl at her and she stares calmly back.
“Did you find who hacked the server?” she asks, and my scowl turns blacker. Little liar.
“No. And I wouldn’t tell you if I had. Nice try.”
She smiles, unrepentant. “I had to. But anyways, it sounds personal, don’t you think? Emails. Personnel files. It’s what I’d go for if I had a vendetta. A thief would go for more valuable information, no?”
Does she know? Did she have something to do with this? I tilt my head as I watch her. “That’s the conclusion our security team came to as well. How did you know?”
“Just a lucky guess.” She shrugs, but she’s still fidgeting with a lock of her hair. Either she’s smarter than I realized, or in cahoots with Dylan.
“Thompson. You’re going to help me today.”
“No more files for me to sort?”
“No. I want you to find out everything you can on this man.” I slide her a piece of paper with a name on it. Let’s see how you react to that.
“Dylan Green?”
Her brows draw together in confusion. Fake or real? “You know him?” I ask. Come on, sweetheart. Where are your tells? She’s too collected in my presence, and I hate it. My collar feels too tight and her scent fills my nose. I would do anything to unsettle her.
“I don’t know him personally, no. But I do know of him.” Careful words. The truth, I think, though maybe not the whole truth.
“I want a dossier on my desk by the end of the day. Everything you can find. And I don’t care what methods you use to get the information. That shouldn’t be a problem, right?” It’s a ridiculous request.
She blushes but lifts her chin. Stubborn woman. “You know, I’m pretty ethical. I don’t take photographs through peoples’ windows. I only track public figures.”
Anger twists my insides. “Like my sister?”
