Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 10: The Big Risk

DAMON

If one more fucking candidate brings up my father, I might actually lose it. Javier was right. We needed Markus. I shouldn't have fired him without having a contingency plan. That was impulsive. But there's no going back now. I must stick with my decision. I don't apologize. I don't bend. And I sure as hell don't admit defeat before I've explored all avenues of options. But as the paperwork continues to pile up, and the qualified candidates dwindle, I feel defeat is on the other side of the door.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," Candidate 18 says, holding out his hand. "And I'm sorry again about your father. I met him at a charity golf tournament a few years back. He sure knew his way around a nine iron."

"HR will be in touch," I deadpan, reluctantly shaking his hand.

Another one bites the dust. Javier is going to be upset. He was certain Candidate 18 would check all my boxes. After twelve interviews with men twenty years my senior, I deduced that economists and bankers do not age like wine. I need fresh, bold, and innovative. I need someone who thinks outside the box. Someone who it's afraid of taking chances. Someone who will help give iCEF a much-needed facelift. While Candidate 18 was young and bright and eager, he was also a brown-nosing suck-up. There's only one room in which I desire complete agreeability, and it's not the boardroom.

"Knock, knock," Miranda coos outside my office door, batting her lashes. In the past few weeks, she's been wearing less and less layers. I give her five weeks before she comes into work completely nude. "Can I come in?"

I wave her inside, sighing. "What it is?"

She tilts her head, takes a seat, and places a folder on my disorganized desk. "I'll take it we still don't have a CFO?"

"I'll find someone," I state. "The right candidate takes time."

Miranda clicks her tongue, patting the folder she brought. "Hopefully not too much time. Yannis just informed me that we're being audited."

"What?" I snatch the folder, flipping it open. "These motherfuckers."

"Bad timing, I know," she says, swallowing. "But um... I think you'll figure it out, Sir. You always do."

My gaze snaps up to Miranda. "Mr. Cavanaugh."

"I like Sir better," she whispers, cheeks flushing. "I think you do too."

My jaw locks. "Move on, Miranda. Don't waste your time. It won't happen again."

"I know you needed time after..." Her voice lowers. "The accident." She squirms in her seat. "But you're back now, Sir." Nibbling on her bottom lip, she asks, "Don't you want to play with me again?"

I should have never brought her to the club. She was a distraction. Something to keep me busy so I wouldn't remember what had happened. That day, I lost both sides of my heart. The side that held my morality. And the side that held my love. Both were destroyed. I thought that was the end of the universe's torture, but I seem to have an impeccable proclivity to attracting lightning strikes twice.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Miranda," I say, tone void of emotion. "You served your purpose and now it's time to forget anything ever happened."

"I can't forget, Sir," she whispers, fiddling with her black hair. "I tried to find someone else, but..." She shrugs. "You're hard to replace."

I let out a tired breath. "Be that as it may, Miss Lee, I'm sure a woman as willing and eager to please as yourself shouldn't have any problems securing a contract." I open my desk drawer and fish out a business card to Club Hades. "Here. This is where we went. Ask for Madame Vee. Tell her I sent you. She'll take care of the rest."