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Charlotte countered.
“And what am I getting?”
Charlotte released Alex’s hands and ran them over her chest and down her torso. “Me.”
CHAPTER 27
SITTING ALONE IN HER OFFICE, Charlotte stared at her computer.
In the ca einated clarity of the morning, she had to admit that she’d been putting this o . Her excuse had been Alex’s birthday. She’d only had a week between the yacht party and the big day. If it was going to be one of the last occasions they spent together, she didn’t want intel weighing her down.
Now, on Monday morning, after a long weekend spent mostly naked with sex interspersed with nice conversations that served to make Alex more and more real, Charlotte was out of excuses. Taking a long, drawn out sip from her tumbler, Charlotte let the hot co ee singe her tongue. Any feeling was preferable to the conflict roiling inside her.
Typing the names Franklin and Karyanne Thatcher into the customer retention management software produced an immediate result. They each had their own client numbers.
Unrelated seven-digit sequences. Charlotte plugged Franklin’s number into the appointment system first. It would show her the last six months of history.
“Holy shit,” she whispered to herself.
Looking at it in isolation, the pattern became obvious.
Disguised as separate treatments of various kinds, each time Franklin indulged in a weekend retreat at Ataraxia’s, he paid the same amount: twenty-five thousand dollars. For the half-day spa service, again a combination of facials, massages, scrubs, and sundry purification treatments, he paid less. Ten thousand.
Other than the exorbitant price, nothing would look suspicious to a casual onlooker. Rich people overpaying to be slathered in mud wasn’t a crime. The fact that Alex hired Franklin’s . . . what should she call her? Therapist? Service Provider? Charlotte shook her head. The fact that Alex hired the person as an independent contractor was a clue.
Opening her payroll software, Charlotte identified all the independent contractors. There were a couple dozen that fiscal year, but many of them could be eliminated from the illicit business. A computer guy that had set up a new network and upgraded their systems. Two people hired to revamp Ataraxia’s promotional materials and do some other marketing projects.
By process of elimination, Charlotte whittled the list down to six. Six independent contractors providing client services. Four women and two men.
Charlotte searched the books. All six of them worked sparingly, usually with the same clients, and charged a ton of money for it. If Charlotte was right, that meant Alex had thirty-three johns as clients. They weren’t all male, but mostly.
Pulling up her calculator app, Charlotte did the math.
Each of the six independent contractors pulled well in over a
million dollars a year. Taken together, it was over ten million. It accounted for eighty percent of Alex’s business.
Charlotte threw herself back in her chair, stunned by the discovery. She couldn’t wrap her head around that kind of money.
When she’d collected herself, Charlotte stood from her desk. This was what she’d been sent here to get. All she needed was confirmation and she’d be able to call Jayson.
Soon after that, she hoped, she’d be o to Virginia getting ready to train with the FBI and this would all be a distant memory.
As she slipped on her heels and pulled her green blazer over her gauzy, oatmeal colored jumpsuit, Charlotte hardened herself. This was a job. She just needed to get on with it.
Charlotte checked her watch as she started down the waterfall hallway leading to Alex’s o ce. They’d barely talked about work, but last night when Charlotte was getting ready to go home, she’d mentioned meetings all afternoon.
Nothing in the morning. She just hoped Stephanie wasn’t in there. This strategy wouldn’t work if Alex wasn’t alone, and Charlotte didn’t want to wait. The likelihood of cold feet would only increase.
“Come in,” Alex replied to Charlotte’s knock.
“Hey,” Charlotte said, unable to stop herself from smiling when she saw Alex behind her desk. With her reading glasses on and her hair pulled back in a bun, she was stunning.
Charlotte knew she lost objectivity when Alex was at her most beautiful. She was just as awe-struck by the woman
when she emerged from her white linen covered bed with messy hair and sleepy eyes.
Alex smiled when she looked up at her. The sight of her perfect white teeth, which she’d learned had been corrected by years of braces and tragic headgear, eroded Charlotte’s resolve, but not enough to send her scurrying out the door.
