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That night so long ago, she’d assumed there had been an incorrect billing ascribed to Empowered in Finance in the last email she’d been accidentally sent by the lawyer, and quite frankly, so much had happened in her life afterward that she’d put it at the back of her mind.
However, the email she’d just received no longer made that possible.
In the email, Hardy’s lawyer very specifically mentioned the charity, clearly spelled out the loss of finances in the charity’s bank account, and even more specifically said, “Keep this Cayman connection between us.”
What Cayman connection?
It dawned on her that she still had Hardy’s password to his Embrette account from when he gave it to her after he’d almost caught her masturbating in her office. If he hadn’t changed his password, she might be able to get into his documents and see if there was some sort of electronic trail that would lead to an answer.
The first time she entered the password into the computer system, she got a loudping.
WRONG ANSWER. TRY AGAIN.
Damn. He’d changed the code.
Or maybe she’d just typed the code in wrong? There were a series of letters and three zeroes—had she only typed in two?
She tried again, and this time she was instantly granted access.
In five minutes, she had her answer. Hardy had created a shell company, stashed it in the Cayman Islands, and over the last three years had siphoned money out of the charity’s account. There it all was, in black and white.
Her asshole boss had been stealing fromEmpowered in Financeall this time.
She drummed her fingernails on the desk, contemplating what to do. Call the cops? The FBI? Which agency dealt with cybercrime?
A knock sounded at her door, and she looked up to see her assistant Kelly at the door.
“Skylar, are you planning on attending the retirement party for Jason Reeder tonight? If so, I can get you an Uber.”
She’d forgotten all about the party. It was for one of the CEOs of another major finance company. Usually, she attended these events, not because she enjoyed them but because the networking was so valuable. But this wasn’t a good time, given she was longing for a man she could never have again and reeling from the discovery that her boss had all but depleted the financial investments of her favorite charity. All she wanted was to go home and curl up on her sofa in warm jammies with a glass of wine and a box of tissues and cry.
But that had never been her.
If being with Julian had taught her anything, it was that she was a force to be reckoned with. A lonely force.
She needed to do something about Hardy, and she would, but she didn’t have to do it right this moment.
She looked at Kelly, who’d repeatedly invited her to social functions over the years, only for Skylar to repeatedly turn her down.
She didn’t want to distance herself from people anymore.
“Kelly, the party’s going to be a bunch of Manhattan’s financial world elites, the movers and shakers, so basically the boring crowd, but it’s free food and drink, and some of the younger traders are smokin’ hot. Do you want to come with me?”
Kelly blinked. “Me? But I’m just an assistant.”
Skylar frowned. “You’re not ‘just’anything. And you deserve some fun. We both do. After all, our boss is in the Cayman Islands having a blast on company time.” She deliberately left out the part where their boss was there to steal money from a charity.
Kelly looked down at the plain black pencil skirt and white silk blouse she wore. “I’d have to go home and change, and I live on Staten Island. There wouldn’t be enough time.”
“No worries—you and I are about the same size. We could find you something in my work wardrobe.” Skylar kept a small closet of clothes in her office for occasions such as this, and in it were dresses as well as business suits. “Your black pumps will go with anything.”
Kelly’s eyes lit up. “In that case, yes!”
As she helped Kelly pick out a dress to wear, Skylar couldn’t help but wonder why she’d even suggested such a thing. A party wouldn’t keep her mind off Julian.
But it could help.
* * *
