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“Myla, how many times have you pointed out what should be obvious to your clients? Sometimes we can’t see how bad our situations are. We need the people that love us to point out what’s wrong. Listen to the people that love you. Repair yours and Mimi’s friendship and stay away from that man because there’s a difference between love and control.”

18

Miranda sat at her desk wondering how to address the questions in her head. She had a million important tasks to complete, yet finding out about Dante seemed to be the only thing that was a priority.

Hate was such a strong word. In fact, it was a word she was taught never to use, but it was the only one she could think of to describe how she truly felt about him. From the moment she first laid eyes on him, she knew he was no good. Now that he was in the picture, everything between her and Myla felt strained and uncomfortable.

“There’s something wrong with his ass. Everyone can see it except her,” Miranda said as Linda’s words replayed in her head.

Miranda leaned back in her ergonomic chair, the leather creaking softly as she rolled her stiff neck from side to side. She stared up at the ceiling tiles, visually tracing the faint cracks as if the pattern might somehow help organize the chaos spinning through her head. She was agitated and uncomfortable. This feeling came over her anytime she had a lot on her mind.

In the very beginning of Myla and Dante’s relationship, she tried to make herself think that she was being overly critical and judgmental. The janky business card, invalid NMLS ID, and so many other things made her cautious of him. She tried to convince herself that her disdain was based on him running from security at the club. That was partially true, but not the whole truth. She didn’t like Dante because his energy was dark and consuming.

It was the way he talked over people. The way every conversation somehow circled back to him. He did the most for attention. It bothered her that Myla acted as if she didn’t notice Dante’s behavior. Or how she’d make excuses for his fiery outburst. Miranda couldn’t explain it, but her instincts were screaming that something wasn’t right, and her instincts had never lied before.

“I need to mind my business. I know better than this. But Myla needs proof that this man ain’t shit before she’ll leave him alone. I gotta do it,” Miranda said as she picked up her office phone and dialed the internal receptionist. As she listened to the phone ring, she prayed that she wasn’t making the wrong decision.

“This is Richelle. Please provide your name or Employee ID.”

“Employee ID: RZIB-MRO221787.”

“Hey, Miranda. Thank you for providing your credentials. Please provide the name or Employee ID for the transfer.”

“Employee ID: RZIB-EMM387925.”

“Please hold for the transfer.”

For the first time in a long time, Miranda chewed on her nails as she listened to the phone ring. She knew that what she was about to do, using company resources, whether employees or systems, for something that was not work-related, was grounds for dismissal. But she couldn’t help it. She needed to know the truth about Dante.

The line rang longer than she expected, each ring pulling at her nerves. Miranda glanced around her office as if someone might suddenly burst through the door and accuse her of abuse of power or misconduct. Her computer screen was filled with half-finished reports, unread emails, and silent reminders of the work she should have been doing. None of that mattered right now.

She was more worried about the risk of losing her friendship than the risk of losing her job. To her, the risk of losing her job was worth it because it was for Myla.

Myla had been there for every milestone in her life. Every emergency, promotion, breakup; for everything. Watching her walk head-on into something that felt dangerous made Miranda feel like she was failing as a friend. For Myla, she didn’t mind bending the rules.

She knew exactly what the employee handbook said about using company resources for personal matters. She had attended the virtual continued education courses and signed the ethics agreement every year. The thought of losing the career she spent more than a decade building made her stomach twist. But something about Dante made her feel that bending the company rules was necessary.

Every memory of Dante kept replaying in her mind like a highlight reel she couldn’t turn off. The exaggerated stories about his success. The way he casually dropped big numbers and powerful connections into conversations that nobody asked for. She had noticed the cracks in his stories. Details that didn’t line up. Credentials that didn’t check out.

Miranda sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. She hated feeling like the villain. If she was wrong, she risked damaging her friendship even more. But if she was right, then Myla was in deeper than she realized.

The ringing stopped, and the faint click of someone answering the call made Miranda sit upright in her chair. Her stomach tightened as she prepared to speak, knowing that whatever came next might confirm the suspicion that had been gnawing at her. One way or another, she was about to find out who Dante really was.

“Hey, Mimi. It must be something urgent if you’re calling me instead of sending an email. What’s up?”

Miranda smiled. She knew that all the questions she had would soon be answered.

“It is, but how is my favorite Cutthroat menace? How is life in Saudi Arabia?” Miranda asked Eden jokingly.

The two women had worked together at the Rashid Zayed International Banque for years until Eden transferred to the Saudi Arabian branch after turning her ex-husband’s world upside down.

“Life is good. I love it here. I have no complaints, and I definitely have no regrets.” Eden laughed. “Tell me about this urgent matter.”

“There’s this guy named Dante Helgard that I do not trust. He claims to be a wealthy commercial realtor, but there have been too many inconsistencies in his stories and actions. The thing that has me really looking at him weird is the fact that he said he has a Dubai First Royale Mastercard. He had the nerve to say that, since he flies to Dubai so often, he thought it best to apply for the card to earn points. When Myla told me that shit, I couldn’t even speak.”

Eden burst into laughter.

“So, he really told her that he applied for a Dubai First Royale Mastercard to accumulate points. That’s hilarious. His name alone tells me that he does not own this card. The fact that he said he applied for an invitation-only card is funny as hell. I guess when he was looking for exclusive cards to lie about, he failed to realize that the Dubai Royale is primarily given to the richest people in the UAE. Also, this is an experience purchasing card; receiving points is not a thing. Even though I know he’s lying. I’ll check anyway because stranger things have happened,” Eden said as she typed Dante’s name into the database.