Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
This had to be her ten of swords moment.
Rosemary sat in the same conference room she’d been in with Armando and Mr. Moresco last week, and just like last time, her armpits and head were sweating.
The low cabinets that ran the length of one side of the room were covered with Redwelds.
The labels reflected the organizational system Armando required for all Pannetone & Associates files.
The first label was always the name of the client.
The second label was always the name of the project.
The third and final label was a barcode.
Rosemary’s gaze darted back and forth from the glass wall in front of her that provided a clear view of the hallway and the files to her right.
The files were separated into two groups.
The first label on all the files read Moresco, Salvatore.
The second label on one group of files read Girard Warehouse, while the second label on the other set read Penrose Warehouse.
She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.
When she’d started at the firm, Armando had emphasized that she shouldn’t access any Moresco files without his permission.
The fact that she was sitting here in this room—summoned to this meeting with a red exclamation point Outlook invitation that contained no information other than the subject line “Girard and Penrose Files”— seemed pretty good evidence that she’d been caught violating that edict.
Still, she was holding on to a sliver of hope.
Maybe Armando wanted to review her work and had asked Lily to bring up the files in case they wanted to delve into more detail.
She could only hope.
Muted voices filled her ears. Her gaze shot up.
Armando and Lily were heading down the hall.
Armando’s arm was curled around Lily’s shoulder in what appeared to be a comforting gesture, and Lily’s eyes were red and swollen.
They looked like old-fashioned typecasts: Lily, the pretty, picture-perfect receptionist in a pencil skirt, blouse, sweater, and heels.
Today, the hair she normally wore free was pinned up, adding to the effect.
Armando was the distinguished Italian lawyer: deeply tanned skin, slicked-back salt-and-pepper hair, dark pinstriped suit, and imported leather loafers.
Lily turned down the corridor that would take her back to her desk. Their eyes met as Lily rounded the corner, and Rosemary watched her sadness twist into a sharp glare. It looked like their brief truce was over.
She shifted her gaze toward the opening conference room door. Armando’s lips were thin and tight, his expression grave.
The sprig of hope she’d been clinging to dissipated.
She’d definitely been caught. She should have never asked Lily for help.
Lily was an unhappy, dissatisfied person.
She should have known she would rat her out.
Sage always told her that she put way too much stock in “positive thinking, idealist, glass is half full crap.” Sage was way too pragmatic for Rosemary’s liking, but in this instance, her sister was right.
Sage would never have trusted Lily, and it appeared that Rosemary shouldn’t have either.
A bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face.
She could feel hair sticking to her face and neck.
She rubbed the back of her neck, and her hand met hot, slick skin.
Her body’s sweat response to stress was the absolute worst. Perspiration had probably already darkened the armpits of her baby-blue top.
White and dark colors were safer for work, but Aleksei’s cute, flirty, good morning text had put her in such a good mood that she’d gone with a new, fun, fitted turtleneck. Another mistake.
Thump.
Armando’s hands thudded on the wooden conference room table as he took his seat. Her body jerked to attention, all thoughts of sweat and blue shirts fleeing like birds startled from a tree.
“I am a firm believer in keeping an open mind. I pride myself on not prejudging people or situations, but I’m having a difficult time doing that right now.
” The hard lines of Armando’s face softened, and his shoulders slumped.
“I’m also incredibly disappointed. I was extremely impressed by you, Rosemary.
Not just your mind and the quality of your work, but also your enthusiasm and spirit, and what I perceived as true integrity. I thought you were trustworthy.”
She glanced down at her lap. Armando was talking about her in the past tense, as if he’d already written her off. Her morning coffee and muffin threatened to make a second appearance. She hated disappointing people she cared about. Absolutely hated it.
Yep. Definitely her ten of swords moment.
The only good thing about the ten of swords was that, once you were down, there was really only one way to go.
Another good thing about tarot was that it was just information from the universe.
Fate brought what it would, but the cards didn’t dictate a person’s response.
Each person owned that. In her view, when facing a bull, it was always better to grab it by its horns.
Yes, it was dangerous, but she’d rather face trouble head-on than run and get stabbed in the back.
But that didn’t make grabbing the bull easy.
Her heartbeat filled her ears. The room seemed to fall away, and it was just her, perspiration pooling on her neck, legs sweaty and sticking to her pants, wig scratchy on her head, blood rushing in her ears.
The table was cool and smooth under her elbows as excuses flitted through her mind.
She could tell Armando she hadn’t understood his instructions about not viewing the Moresco files, but he’d been pretty goddamn clear.
If she hadn’t understood, she deserved to be fired for sheer stupidity.
She could say she’d picked up the files by accident.
She had multiple projects, and she was allowed access to the files for other clients. Just not Moresco.
Her mom’s voice shimmered in her mind.
A lie is a weed. If you don’t nip it in the bud, it’ll take over the whole garden.
She’d seen how lies had almost ruined her sister’s relationship with Ryker. The lies had torn them apart and put their lives at risk. The lies hadn’t just taken over Sage’s garden—they’d nearly destroyed it.
Armando had taken her under his wing, welcomed her with open arms, and treated her with kindness.
If there was a chance she could keep her job, she wanted a good relationship with him, and any relationship without honesty would be shallow at best. If she didn’t tell Armando the truth, she would lose all his trust, and more importantly, her own self-respect.
She forced her head back up so she could look at Armando directly. “You’re wondering why I was looking at the Penrose paper files when I was supposed to be working on the Girard project, particularly after you specifically told me not to go through any Moresco paper files without your permission.”
She hated the quiver in her voice. Armando had a soft heart. He couldn’t bear tears. They needed to have a professional, direct conversation. She wanted Armando to speak his true mind, not thoughts skewed by a reaction to her distress.
“I was.”
“I guess Lily told you I had the files?”
If Rosemary was lucky enough to keep her job, she was going to have to work with Lily going forward. She needed to know if her suspicions were correct.
Armando plucked a red paisley handkerchief from the outer breast pocket of his suit coat. “Here. Use this for your forehead.”
She’d always assumed colorful handkerchiefs were for decorative purposes only, and the silk felt way too fine to use to mop up the sweat dripping down the sides of her face, but it seemed rude to refuse Armando’s kind offer.
Plus, what had started in her scalp as an occasional twitch had turned into a full-blown itch.
She dabbed at her forehead and face with the cool material, using the opportunity to scratch along the edges of the wig.
When she was done, she tucked the damp cloth into her pants pocket.
“Thank you. I’ll get this cleaned and return it to you.”
Armando waved a tanned hand in a dismissive gesture. “The handkerchief is the least of our worries. Don’t you agree?”
She’d rather discuss the handkerchief, but there was no point in delaying the inevitable. She nodded.
“You can’t blame Lily,” Armando said. “The girl is what she is.”
The “girl” was in her early thirties, but Rosemary didn’t think this was the time to point out the societal and psychological impacts on gender equality of using childlike terms to refer to grown women.
“She didn’t betray your trust,” Armando continued. “She simply scanned the files.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
Armando’s heavy ring flashed in the light as he gestured toward the credenza.
“All the files have barcodes. As you also know, Lily is supposed to be the only one removing files from or putting files into the file room. She uses a scanner to scan each file and key in the location. So, if Lily were to give you a file, she would scan it and note that it’s in your office.
That way, we always know where the files are. ”
Realization dawned. “When Lily returned the files I’d taken, she scanned them back in.”
“Like I said. You can’t blame the girl. She is what she is.
A creature of habit who can be counted on to follow procedure and scan files back into the file room, which, based on the system, had never left.
Our computer systems are set up to detect anomalies.
When I confronted Lily, she told me you’d asked her to do you a favor and return the files to the file room. She said she was just doing her job.”
Well, that settled a few of her jangled nerves. Lily hadn’t betrayed her trust after all. Yet, on the shit side, Dante must have been the one who’d reported the anomaly.