Rage

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

T he morning sun filters through my curtains, casting golden stripes across my hardwood floor. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts from the kitchen, beckoning me. I wrap a robe around myself; the soft fabric brushes against my skin as I pad barefoot to the source.

Mia stands by the stove, her dark curls piled messily atop her head. She hums softly, swaying to an unheard melody as she flips pancakes.

“You’re up early,” I remark, sliding onto a stool at the counter.

She turns, her eyes sparkling. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d surprise you.”

I smile gratefully. “Best surprise I’ve had in a while.”

She sets a plate before me, the pancakes perfectly golden. “So, what’s the latest scoop? Still chasing after the big bad wolf of Zenith Corp?”

I drizzle syrup over the stack, the sweet scent mingling with the coffee. “You know me too well. I got a tip about a meeting they’re having tonight. High-level executives discussing something they’d rather keep under wraps.”

Mia arches an eyebrow. “And you’re planning to crash it?” She walks over with a cup of liquid life and my favorite caramel creamer, which I pour until it’s immediately cool enough to drink.

I shrug, take a giant gulp of coffee, and stuff a big bite of pancake into my cheek. “That’s the idea.” It comes out a bit muffled, but the buttery syrup-covered goodness is totally worth it.

She places a hand over mine, her expression turning serious. “Just…be careful, okay? These aren’t the kind of people who play nice.”

I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “I will. Promise.”

“So, I take it that means we no longer have dinner plans?” she asks.

“Well, shit. I’m sorry, Mia. I forgot…but you’re here now.” I hope she understands that this is so important to my story, and I am not just ditching her willy-nilly.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” She starts to pick at her chipped nail polish.

She seems sad now. “You know I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings or anything, right? You’re my bestie.” I walk around the countertop and give her a half hug while she plates off the last of the pancakes.

“What did you want to tell me?” I ask. I remember the text said she had news to share.

“Nothing, no big deal.”

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“It’s really nothing. I, uh…just wanted to spend some time out. Have a girl’s night.” She bumps one shoulder in the air.

“All right. Raincheck?”

“Of course.”

Mia walks over to the sink with the frying pan and wipes the little crumbs with the washrag I left draped over the little center divider. I make a mental note to rewash that pan later with a fresh rag and some actual soap. She’s my bestie, so I forgive her.

The day passes in a blur of preparations. I dig through my closet, pulling out an outfit that could pass for corporate chic—sleek black slacks, a crisp starched linen blouse, and sensible heels. My heart pounds as I apply subtle makeup, the mirror reflecting a composed exterior that belies the nerves beneath.

I barely recognize the woman in the mirror. I rarely dress this fancy for anything.

“I guess I do clean up nice.” I do a little half-turn in the mirror and check out my butt in these pants. I knew there was a reason I bought these; it looks like I got a BBL.

As dusk approaches, I make my way to Zenith Corp’s auxiliary building—a less conspicuous venue for their clandestine meeting. The air is thick with anticipation, the cool evening breeze rustling the leaves overhead. I wish I had chosen ballet flats instead of heels; I can feel a little blister forming already.

I slip inside amid a group of employees, the security guard barely glancing up from his phone as they scan their badges. I hold my breath, offering a confident nod as I pass. Nobody bats an eyelash at me at all. Surprising myself at how easy that really was to sneak in, my heart races with a new shot of adrenaline.

The sterile corridors stretch ahead, illuminated by fluorescent lights that cast a harsh glow. My heels click lightly on the flooring as I walk aimlessly away from the crowd I came in with.

Voices drift from a room down the hall with its door open. I position myself near the slight gap to the room, the hushed tones becoming clearer.

“…cannot risk this getting out,” a stern voice asserts. “The financial repercussions alone?—”

“Agreed,” another interjects. “We need to ensure all data is secured and any leaks are plugged immediately.”

My pulse quickens. This is it—the proof I need. I rummage through my cross-body bag for my recorder but fumble with the zipper as it gets snagged on itself.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

I whirl around to find Romello Reid standing before me, his gaze piercing. Up close, the intensity of his gunmetal-gray eyes is almost unnerving. His scent carries over to me on the slight breeze of his approach. Intoxicating and expensive is the best way I can describe it, and it makes my mouth water. I realize I am staring at his lips now.

“I, uh…” My mind races for a plausible excuse. “I was just looking for the restrooms.”

He studies me for a moment, a hint of amusement curling at the corners of his mouth. “Romello Ried. Pleasure to meet you.”

He extends a hand, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs—before offering it in return. Somehow, I manage to click my heels together like Dorothy while my arm moves up and down in an over-exaggerated handshake.

“The restrooms are on the other side of the building.” He hitches a thumb over his shoulder.

Heat rises to my cheeks. “Must have taken a wrong turn.”

He tilts his head slightly, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“First week,” I lie, forcing a smile.

“Welcome aboard,” he says smoothly. “Perhaps I can escort you to your destination.”

“That’s not necessary,” I begin, but he gestures down the hall.

“I insist.”

As we walk, the silence stretches. I can feel his gaze flickering toward me, assessing.

“So, which department did you say you’re in?” he asks casually.

“Research and Development,” I lie again, hoping it’s vague enough.

“Interesting. I thought I knew everyone in R I peek back into the corridor. It’s empty. Deciding not to push my luck further tonight, I make my way back to the exit. The same security guard is still staring intently at his phone. I can hear a referee whistle and a bunch of booing coming from the small device. He must be watching some kind of sports match game thing. I never really got into sports, but I know the sounds of a game.

As I step into the night air, relief washes over me. I may not have gathered concrete evidence, but at least I’ve confirmed that something is definitely amiss.

I now know one thing is certain, Romello Reid is even hotter in person. Not only that, but he might well be a part of the conspiracy to cover up the new drug. What else would he have been doing heading to that very room?

My mind races with theory after theory while I make my way home, eager to take down notes and get these forsaken heels off.