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REINVIGORATED, Charlotte marched into her o ce with new energy. She wasn’t going to languish behind spreadsheets while waiting for something to happen.
Jayson’s warnings clung to her like the stinky shame of burnt popcorn in a shared microwave as she sat at her desk.
He was the only person in the world she loved and trusted.
She didn’t doubt his concern was sincere, but he also had a penchant for exaggeration. Goons weren’t going to knock down her door. Probably.
Savoring the extra shot of Cuban co ee she’d added to her milk that morning, Charlotte dove in headfirst. She’d been hunting for months, looking for any discrepancies in the resort or spa books, but there had been nothing notable.
The only things that didn’t line up perfectly could be attributed to human errors and minor oversights, nothing nearly enough to point to something nefarious.
“What if I’m looking in the wrong place?” she muttered to herself while chewing the corner of her fingernail, a bad habit she tried not to indulge.
It was an hour after her normal departure time before Charlotte found a little shred of something. She tipped back in her chair and smiled in self-satisfaction. Her back strained painfully after having been hunched over the keyboard for so long, but it was worth it.
Instead of proof, Charlotte found a way to make herself useful. Alexandra Leon and Ataraxia Wellness Resort had made millions of dollars in donations in the last five years, each time to a di erent charity championing anti-human tra cking and other causes a ecting mainly women and children. Each time anonymously, which meant they didn’t claim any deductions on their taxes.
“Trying to ease your conscience,” she muttered to herself as she researched the charitable causes to make sure they were legit. They were all properly registered 501(c)(3) organizations.
Planning to talk to Alexandra about it in the morning, Charlotte slipped her heels back on and grabbed her bag. The administrative wing was quiet like it normally was. Charlotte hardly ever saw anyone, and the doors usually remained closed. But as she passed the waterfall hallway, she noticed the glow of Alexandra’s light through the frosted glass door.
The sight sent a pulse of electric energy through her body, tensing her empty stomach. Fortune favors the bold .
As she approached, she listened for the sound of conversation, but even though the door was slightly ajar, there was no noise coming from inside. When Charlotte finally heard a voice, she froze. Straining her ear, she listened closer. It was music.
From the crack in the door, Charlotte peered into Alexandra’s o ce. She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but Alexandra grooving to some old song as she typed away on her keyboard wasn’t it.
The glow of the computer monitor made her striking features soft as she mouthed the words to an R&B song Charlotte had never heard. Her hair was in a bun, but it was looser than usual.
Did she have a hard day? Is this how she unwinds? Who doesn’t take their blazer o at the end of the day when no one else is around?
Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself steady. It was wrong to watch Alexandra while she thought she was alone, but it was impossible to stop. Before Charlotte could lose her nerve and slink away, she tapped on the glass.
At the sound of Charlotte’s light knock, Alexandra’s gaze flashed up at the door. Her body stilled, but she didn’t give the impression of being embarrassed.
“Ms. Castro, what can I do for you?” Her tone was so serious Charlotte wondered if she was making up for the moment of frivolity.
“It’s what I can do for you,” she countered before cringing internally. God, who says that?
Alexandra’s face softened into momentary amusement, or maybe it was pity. Charlotte ignored her racing heart and dry mouth and barreled forward.
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bsp; When Alexandra turned o the music, Charlotte held out her hand as she approached her desk. “Don’t turn it o on my account. It was pretty cool. Who is that?”
Alexandra’s dark eyes widened in horror. “You don’t know who Janet Jackson is?”
A cold, uncomfortable sensation seized Charlotte’s muscles while her face flushed with heat. “Of course, I know who she is,” she countered, trying to feign o ense. “I just don’t know that song.”
“You don’t know That’s the Way Love Goes ?” Her lip twitched into a momentary smirk as she glanced at her computer screen. “It only has eighty million listens on Spotify.”
Charlotte shrugged, desperate to look unbothered by the accusation that she was ignorant. “Maybe I’m more interested in saving you money than I am in vintage music.”
The tone was a little harsher than she intended, but Alexandra appeared unfazed.
“Vintage, huh?” Alexandra leaned back in her chair, revealing a flash of inner thigh as she crossed her legs.
“Maybe this just came out before you were born.” She glanced at the screen. “1993.”
