𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 || j. daniel atlas

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

WARNING - This chapter contains mentions and the implication of sexual assault. 

♤ ♡ ♧ ♢ 

The taxi dropped her off outside the front of the fourteen-storey building in the corporate centre of New York City. Taking a deep breath of the early morning fog, Alena adjusted the collar of Daniel's shirt and straightened her skirt.

She pushed through the revolving doors into the large, audaciously gilded lobby. Every morning, Alena was reminded of when she had entered the casino, the night all of this had begun.

"That's a nice lipstick, really suits you," said Bobby, who worked in the company copy room, as she came round the back of the reception desk with a pile of papers and a bag of freshly popped popcorn. "Where did you get it?"

Alena gave a small smile. "From a friend."

"So," Raquelle said, munching away at her own popcorn, bare feet up on the desk, "are you going to tell us what all this theatrically is for? What's this 'big day' you've been talking about for weeks?"

"Ah, all in good time, my darlings," Alena smirked, tapping the side of her nose, then muttered as she strode across the foyer to the lift, "provided this all goes according to plan."

As it was only 8:30am, the lift operator hadn't arrived for his shift. When she emerged on the top floor, the hallway leading to the CEO's office was barren. The desk outside it was clear, the pigeon holes empty.

Alena's hand wandered back to the collar of the shirt. She ran the silk between her fingers, taking a few long, cleansing breaths. She checked through her satchel and knocked once on the door.

"Good morning, Alena." Gregory Hanson bared his very straight, very white teeth at her.

Alena did her best to return it, closing the glass doors to the office behind her. "Mr Hanson, your schedule today is quite busy. Would you like to go over it now?"

"Of course. Why don't you come have a seat and we can get started?" Hanson sat down in his large desk chair, patting his knee with a leer.

Alena forced a laugh, taking a seat in a chair on the other side of the desk, placing her satchel and jacket neatly at her feet. "Alright, you have a meeting at nine o'clock with the board of directors, just to give an overview of the week. Another at eleven with Mr Branson about the new applicants for the secretarial position in the finance and marketing departments. You should have a short break in between, but I know that the head of marketing would like to speak to you about solidifying her idea for the New Year's campaign."

"Wow, that all sounds exceptionally boring." Hanson leant back in his chair, letting his head roll back.

"That's okay," Alena said, mirroring her boss' relaxed posture. "You might not have to go to any of them."

"Oh?" Hanson raised an eyebrow.

"There is something that I would like to discuss with you first," Alena said softly.

"Go ahead."

Alena removed several files from her bag and dropped them onto the desk. "It has come to my attention that there are a few discrepancies with the company's accounts."

"I don't follow," Hanson frowned, leaning forward, and clasping his hands on the desk.

"I have discovered the two major issues. First, it doesn't seem that the correct amount of money is coming out of the company, though I discussed it with the finance department and they insisted, quite defensively might I add, that all employees' wages, equipment, etc. have all been paid for. Second, that, from the remaining funds, money seems to be disappearing. You'll find all the relevant receipts and transcripts in here." Alena dropped the thinnest of the files in front of the CEO's still-clasped hands.