“There are a few files in a folder dated for April fifth of last year.”
I nodded and went to the folder so I could open it. “Invoices that went to a shell company in the Philippines,” I said, my memory jogged as I opened and maximized the files and spreadsheets. I felt truly pampered again. “Wow, this makes such a difference,” I muttered.
“What’s that?” he asked, looming over me.
I ignored the feeling that he was trying to intimidate me. He didn’t need to actually stand behind me while I sat. Just knowing he was in the same room with me reminded me of the larger-than-life effect he had on me. And with him this close, his body heat reaching me and his clean cologne scent teasing my nose, it was impossible not to notice him.
“Um, this, uh, setup. Three monitors?” I let out a nervous laugh. “That’s so efficient, instead of minimizing and reopening files on one.” All the equipment was new and fast, nothing like what I was used to. Turning slightly, I ignored how close he was to me and cleared my throat. “What, um what do you want me to do?”
“Find the error,” he stated.
“Error.” I shook my head. “There’s no error in here. I remember checking these invoices and sending them through. If I could log into the system that the firm used?—”
“Log in, then.” He tapped a notepad that the men had left. “There is a shortcut to the program.”
I gaped at the lined sheet of paper. “How…?”Whoa.“How did you get this?” I made the mistake of glancing up at him. “You hacked into it?”
He gave me a deadpan expression as a reply.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Okay. Um, I can show you the files and they will correspond.”
Five minutes later, though, I saw that they didn’t correspond. A few fields had been compromised, and the functions of many rows were altered. I highlighted them and explained why they were wrong. “But it wasn’t like this last April. I personally checked it all off.”
I spun in the chair to face him since he’d retreated and had taken up pacing through the room, seeming lost in thought.
He questioned me about a few more details, and I couldn’t escape how much this reminded me of a course I took in college where the professor would personally challenge us about other scenarios that could’ve happened to produce results.
He’s testing me.
While I enjoyed a challenge and I could talk about accounting and spreadsheets all day long—numbers and formulas were my love language—I wondered what it meant that he wanted to “hire” me. I would still be treated as an asset. Not a person. The only changes were that I wouldn’t work for my father at his firm, but directly here, under these Mafia men.
But would it be so bad?
So far, it was already freeing. My father had strict schedule expectations. With my pay, I couldn’t afford these kinds of clothes or this quality ofgourmetfood! And the bed I’d used last night was so much nicer than mine.
But deep down in my heart, I cringed at the fact that I would still be used. I’d still be subjected to maintaining the secrets of financial trails these criminals needed to cover up.
“Who would be able to do your job at Morovov Financials?” he asked bluntly.
I shrugged. “No one.”
He raised his brows.
“I mean it. No other office staff handled those accounts.”
“What about your father?”
I shrugged again but winced. “I doubt it. He didn’t ever actually do anything. Just acted like the owner and overlord.”
“Then who would be running thingsnow?” he asked before ordering me to log back in and check the current information that pertained to accounts tied to their client profiles.
I furrowed my brow as I took notes and checked what was going on. As I went, I explained that some things were already scheduled as repeated, routine transactions. But other things didn’t add up.
He ended up taking a seat next to me as I showed where financial irregularities popped up. I pointed out the information I’d always worked with and then the newer things input as recently as last night, after my… capture or handover.
“I always assumed that the clients like you had an internal team or at least a designated administrative officer who’d prepare the information that was sent to me at the firm. I had no direct communication. No names. It was all just dumped onto my drive to wade through and sort.” I glanced at him to check that he was still with me. “But if these new spreadsheets are to be trusted…” I grimaced and shook my head.
“What?”
