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CHAPTER5
Cannon
The office buildingtowers over me as I walk in its shadow. My gray oxfords smack the sidewalk, exactly like every other white-collar dude’s around me. I blend in. The Hawaiian shirt I wore earlier is in the laundry basket. The shorts are on my bedroom floor. I’m a chameleon. If I were an action figure, I’d be Office Jackass.
One of the glass entry doors in the obsidian monstrosity opens. I zip in like I’ve done this a million times and know exactly where I’m going. I’ve never been in Aero Plaza before, but the smell of coffee drapes a welcoming blanket over me immediately.
The first level is like an indoor marketplace. Floor-to-ceiling windows give it an open-air market feel. Light pours in, and the tables outside the deli have fucking umbrellas.
I order an Americano and pretend I’m scrolling through my phone while waiting for it. According to the placard by the elevators, Roman Hughes’s financial company is on the fifty-ninth floor. Penelope’s father occupies one floor higher, the sixtieth. The top.
Isn’t that a metaphor?
I looked into Hughes Corporation’s financial history. It started in a little strip mall. The same damn one Penelope’s studio is in. Does she know he owns it? I don’t think she would’ve had the guts to file for divorce if she did.
I doubt he’ll sell the building, but I will bet my meager retirement that he will close her doors in seconds. The only question is when.
My coffee’s ready. I take it to a table and sit like I have all the damn time in the world.
People like Roman Hughes piss me off. They take advantage. They take what’s not theirs. They take from those they deem lower than themselves. They’ll sell their own children to reach the top. They’re like my mother.
Greed can corrupt to the core, and my intuition tells me Roman’s core is rotten. I need to know what he’s doing so I can stop him.
I check the time on my phone and tuck it back into my pocket. Every Thursday, Roman meets with Penelope’s dad. That meeting should be done and he’ll be returning to his office—one floor down from Cowles Shipping. That can’t sit well with a man like Roman who’s clawed his way to the top. But so did Peter Cowles. The facts I’m searching for have to be wrapped up in that issue.
I take the elevator and get out on the fifty-ninth floor. I stride to the executive suite right past the executive assistant, who’s a man. I expected Roman to have the stereotypical blonde bombshell he could convince to blow him during her lunch breaks.
I should’ve known better. Roman doesn’t subscribe to basic urges. He’s calculated. The male assistant in the light-blue suit coat that fits him like a second skin throws me, only because it adds a dangerous edge to Roman’s motivations.
“Excuse me, sir.” A chair scrapes the floor behind me. “Mr. Hughes doesn’t have any appointments—”
I walk into the spacious office done in a modern warehouse vibe. Is this how he appealed to a blue-collar corporation like Peter Cowles runs? Or did Penelope’s father agree to work with Roman only because he was now family?
Roman glances up and sits back when he sees his assistant rushing after me.
I meet the man’s hard, ruthless gaze. “I’m here about Penelope.”
Roman only inhales and lifts his chin as he inspects me. “Give us a moment, Hiro.”
When Hiro backs away without question and shuts me in with Roman, the man across from me doesn’t offer me a seat. I take it anyway.
“You’re sleeping with her,” he says.
I don’t give him a reply. I expected the accusation, and I refuse to dwell on what it would be like to have Penelope underneath me. The fewer answers Roman has, the bigger advantage for me. “I know what you’re doing.”
His dark gaze narrows, but he waits. I take my time answering. My gaze drifts around the office. He displays no awards. No photos of family. There is nothing to glean of the man from his office. “I don’t give a shit why you want to scare your wife, but I want in.”
His sharp inhale tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
I lay it all out. Roman doesn’t respect a bullshitter, so I’m not wasting his time or mine. “I know Penelope through a good friend. Jacobi Dixon. You know him.” I’m not asking. A guy like Roman can’t get close to Jacobi. My friend is choosy about who he works with, and Roman doesn’t like to feel as if he’s nothing.
A man who makes Roman feel insignificant might as well be dead to him. It’s a personality trait I can use.
“I do some PI work. Jake asked me to look into it. You know what I found.” Again, not a question. His steady gaze falters for a moment, but I catch the shock. “So, I think to myself, why would a husband pretend to stalk his young wife?”
The air in the room thickens until it’s difficult to draw in a breath. If death could happen from a glance, I’d be six feet under already. As I expected, Roman doesn’t react. He’s similar to Penelope in that way. He watches and he studies and when the odds are in his favor, he acts.
“Let’s say all that is true. Why are you here? Why aren’t you going to the police?” Roman’s gaze is calculating. He’s manipulated people his entire life. He thinks he can outsmart whoever is in front of him. “At the very least, why didn’t you report all this? To Mr. Dixon or the police?”
