After embellishing her resume, Valerie-a single mom-lands a job as an administrative assistant to the hottest, most entitled and obnoxious man she's ever met: Preston Cartwright, the CFO of the prestigious Cartwright & Sons Enterprises.
Several yea...
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"I'm all yours," she says. If I wasn't so frustrated and completely wound up about what she just told me—that someone's been scamming millions of dollars off of us—I would've made that statement into some kind of sexual joke, but as it is, I can't even bother to go anywhere near it.
My heart is pounding, and my pulse is racing, yet it has nothing to do with any sexual innuendos.
I feel violated.
Betrayed.
So taken advantage of, I don't know whether to hit something or scream.
If Valerie is correct, Demers have been skimming millions of dollars off the Marramount project. And that's way past a problem. That's a serious crime that requires police and a legal investigation. But before we get to that point and alert the authorities, I want to go through everything we have to make sure she's 100% correct, and that everything we have is adding up.
What she found makes sense, but I can't accuse someone of stealing from us and be wrong. I can't even bring it to my father's attention until I have sufficient evidence. He would disown me for even thinking the thought without proof. I know I need to dig through these documents with a fine-tooth comb, but there's a shit ton of them, and I don't know how I'll find the time. We need to finish the Marramount as soon as possible, because the clock is ticking for the Fifth Street project to start. Dad will hate anything that puts a wrench into the timeline.
While Valerie calls her brother, I bring all the documents she has collected into my office, since it's bigger than her desk. We'll have access to the electronic files on my computer and the ability to spread the printed documents out on my desk and on the conference table. But it's not the only reason I want the privacy. At this point, I don't know who I can or can't trust.
Fuck.
I run my hands through my hair after I put everything down on my desk. How the hell did we get to this point? Nobody, during this entire project, questioned where the money was going? And it's not like we're talking chump change. It's millions of dollars.
How did I miss that?
Valerie has only been here for just over a month, but she caught on to it. And that is just... fuck, it's impressive. I get that she's fresh new eyes on everything, and she gets to see the project as a whole instead of in pieces, but still. Impressive.
She's the only one that has recognized something was more than just wrong with this project, and she was gutsy enough to question why.
I shake my head at myself. I've clearly underestimated her, and that makes me feel like a failure and a real asshole. She rubbed me the wrong way from day one, and now I wonder if my brother was right? Did my intense dislike for her have something to do with her not being impressed or infatuated with me? Because she never once acted star struck, like most of the women I meet.
Am I really that shallow?
It hurts to consider that might be the truth.
I've never once been told no by a woman. Or had to work for it. The Cartwright name itself is a draw, and let's face it, I have a mirror. I know what they see. I'm attractive, like my brothers. Women have always come on to me. Except for Valerie.
