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“Simone?” Trent pleads in a whisper next to me as we make our way to the elevator.
“Save it. We have nothing to discuss.”
Trent was nervy to approach me in the conference room minutes ago. But he’s downright out of line to ask me to join him for drinks this evening.
I’m already angry with an unruly biker. Throwing Trent’s bullshit into the mix is doing nothing but stoking my rage to new heights.
Fucking men.
Rejecting Trent feels good, righteous even. As if I’d entertain the idea of spending time outside of this assignment—hard pass. Unfortunately, Trent isn’t accepting my refusal.
“How can you say that?” Though his voice is whiny, he keeps it low. Probably trying to avoid having Punk overhear our conversation, since he’s trailing close behind. “We were together a year, shared a life, a home. We had something special.”
“No, I thought we had something special. That illusion burst like a bubble the moment you got your dick wet in another woman.”
Giving him my back, I effectively cut off the conversation when I jab the elevator button. I turn in time to see Punk closing the distance between us.
Thank God!For the first time, I’m happy to have the moron as my security detail.
Trent stews, clenching his jaw the way he always has when we’ve fought in the past. Past experience indicates he won’t let me brush him off.
The elevator dings open, and we usher ourselves inside. Not much is shared, aside from a few tense glances in the elevator on the way to the top floor. Punk hands me my coffee, without a peep. He stands close to my side, his blue eyes laser-focused as he watches Trent. His vigilant behavior seems over the top. Then again, I’ve seen him behave the same way when he’s guarding my little sister. This is just how Punk operates, and he’s damn good at his job.
We exit the elevator, following Trent to the airy conference room. The board members use this space to host the firm’s elite clientele. It’s about twice the size of the room Chase and Butch are using, and it’s packed with boxes, probably the off-site client files.
The sheer volume of paperwork is intimidating, but it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own. I’m trained in investment banking and have the skills to spot fraudulent operations. If you know what to look for, the telltale signs have a way of popping out at you. It’s time consuming but manageable.
Trent points to the furthest wall. “It’s in alphabetical order, starting there. Older statements in the front of the client’s files, moving up to the most recent transactions in the back of their files.”
“Sounds good.” I slip off my blazer, hanging it on the back of a chair. I might as well make myself comfortable—this place will be my home until we finish the investigation.
Punk does a sweep of the room, taking in everything. Satisfied with the space, he comes to stand beside me.
Trent picks up a notepad from the center of the glass table, jotting something on it. “These are my and Cynthia’s office numbers, if you need help. I’ll add my cell, since you’ll have better luck reaching me on there if I’m with your IT team.”
“I recall the numbers,” I say dismissively, waving away the notepad. I may have been gone a year, but prior to leaving, I worked here long enough to have them drilled into my brain.
He throws the pad of paper down with more force than necessary. His face morphs into a frown. “Oh? I could have sworn you’d forgotten my cell, seeing as how you never returned my calls.”
Is he really going there? In front of Punk?
“Calling would imply I wanted to speak to you. Thus why I didn’t. I thought we agreed to keep private matters out of this investigation?” I remind him frigidly, giving him one last chance to drop it before I go nuclear.
My tone does nothing to deter him. His nostrils flare. “We have unresolved business.”
A full mushroom cloud erupts deep in my brain. My voice is low and lethal. “The. Hell. We. Do.”
Punk leans his backside against the tabletop, crossing his legs at his ankles to get comfortable for our showdown. He watches us with an eager smirk on his face.
“Yes, we do,” Trent insists fervently. “I never explained myself. We could have reconciled. We should have.”
Heat rises to my cheeks. As if he could explain away his betrayal. “There is nothing to explain when you’re sleeping with my boss in our bed.”
“What you saw…” Trent rambles. “It’s not what it looked like.”
Punk barks a laugh. “You sinking your dick into another woman was what, then? A team building exercise? Last I heard, those employee bonding workshops didn’t involve being balls deep in some easy pussy.”
“Do you mind?” Trent glowers at Punk. “This is a private matter not involving you.”
