Dirty Little Secrets

Ch. 10: The Big Risk

Miranda's face scrunches up as the holds the matte black card. "Contract?"

"There are several options available," I explain. "Madame Vee will walk you through the registration process." I find her bright eyes. "I'm doing this as a favor to you, Miranda. I trust that you're smart enough to keep this confidential."

"Of course, Sir—" She freezes. "I mean, of course, Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Close the door behind you," I say as Miranda leaves my office and I'm left staring at the stack of CVs on my desk.

An audit. Everything should be fine. My father and I ensured that all paperwork and accounts were foolproof against an audit. It was my father's idea to use the company's books versus our personal ones. A needle in a haystack, he'd call it. He thought he could hide the truth, and cover it up, but he paid the price in the end. We always do.

As I reach over the stacks of resumes, I knock over a pile of folders and dozens of documents sprinkle all over the floor. Fuck. As I pick up the files, my gaze darts to the dossier I printed out a couple of weeks ago. Throwing the rest of the files haphazardly across my desk, I hike my ankle over my thigh and recline in my seat, opening the file that contains everything Javier could find about Emery Jones.

Graduated high school at the age of sixteen. Earned her bachelor's degree in finance and economics from Brown at age twenty-one. Holds a CFA and CMA. Started at CJ Piers five years ago. She's impressive. I knew from the moment I saw her that there was something special about her. I was right. Not only is she intelligent, but she's bold. She takes risks. She gets a rise out of the unknown. Risk and finance often go hand in hand. My father would gamble, but only when he knew he'd win. Big risk, big reward. She's waiting for the reward. Chasing it. And she'll get it.

I'll make sure she reaps exactly what she has sown.

"Javier—" I pick up my phone. "Bring my car around. I think I found us a new CFO."

***

"Welcome to CJ Piers." The receptionist smiles up at me. "How can I help you today?"

"I'm looking for someone." Leaning against the desk, I lower my sunglasses to the tip of my nose and glance around the lobby. "A Miss Emery Jones."

"Do you have an appointment?"

I snap my head toward her, reading her nameplate, "I don't, but I'm sure you can fit me in, right, Halima?"

"Let me see." She giggles, typing on her computer, "She seems to be booked for the day, Mr..."

"Lush," I smile knowingly. "I believe we talked on the phone earlier this week."

"Oh." Halima blinks. "Right." She clears her throat. "Well, I can book in for tomorrow, perhaps? She's free between 10 a.m. and noon. Does that work for you?"

"Unfortunately, no." I slip my sunglasses back on. I don't need anyone to recognize me. "This is rather time-sensitive. I only need five minutes." I give her a tiny, melting smirk. "I'm sure Miss Jones can spare five measly minutes, no?"

"Umm..." Halima narrows her eyes, rechecking Emery's calendar. "Well, I guess she's free right now but only for—"

"Where can I find her office?"

"It's room 1202. Just turn right down that hall and—"

Halima doesn't get a chance to finish giving directions before I turn around and disappear into the belly of the beast. My fingertips tingle with anticipation as I maneuver the halls toward Emery's office. I can just picture her face when she sees me. The initial shock, the tiny burst of anger for defying her orders, and the undeniable gleam of excitement in her eyes.