Chapter Six
Isla took it all in, properly reminded of her place. “Roger that.”
Michelle recentered herself, blowing out a long breath, eyes closed like she was in hot yoga class.
“No worries. This has been stressful for all because of the fast turnaround, I know, and I appreciate you and the team for coming through like this.” Relief was evident on her face, and Isla was happy about another completed job and satisfied client.
“This is perfect. The chairman will be thrilled. He and his team are actually due for an update and strategy meeting in fifteen.”
“Chairman of the accounting firm?” Isla asked, disappointed. “That doesn’t seem like a big enough deal for the five-star, top-floor treatment.”
Michelle laughed like Isla was an ignorant child, which Isla didn’t appreciate, but she held her tongue.
“No, the chairman of the Corrigan Group, which owns the accounting firm.”
The Corrigan Group was worldwide. Explained all the bells and whistles.
“For some reason, Leonard rubbed the company the wrong way. He’s pissed them off enough that the big man over everything is paying us a visit to get his update firsthand.
Whatever Leonard did, they’ll make an example of him.
Quietly, of course. Pushing him out with some pictures is light work, in my opinion. ”
Isla remained stone faced, averting her gaze so Michelle wouldn’t see anything more than an agreeable contractor. This guy wasn’t going to just be discredited. How was he going to explain why he’d resigned to his wife? He’d lose everything. But Isla said nothing more.
“Fantastic,” Isla said with finality. She readied to leave, securing her bag over her shoulder. “Invoice has been sent electronically, I’m sure.”
Michelle beamed, hugging the file to her chest. “And already paid, with a bonus for such expedient work. You all are godsends.”
Or doing the devil’s work.
Michelle’s phone beeped. She was instantly nervous and fidgety again, and Isla had to wonder who these people were who made the too-cool-to-be-unnerved Michelle Jell-O on legs. “God, they’re coming up. You might want to head out now so you don’t interact with them.”
“Muddies the waters,” Isla replied, appreciating that Michelle remembered how Isla never wanted to be seen by the clients.
What she did was in the dark. Not that Michelle was listening.
She was already click-clacking down the hall to the large glass-encased conference room ahead, where other employees hustled to make last-minute preparations for the colossal meet.
Michelle waved a hand up in the air as she retreated, calling over her shoulder that she’d be in touch soon.
“Insane,” Isla murmured, glad to be done with it all. She pivoted toward the four elevators for a quick getaway.
An elevator pinged an arrival. Isla stepped closer to the opposite side, attempting to make herself small and insignificant.
She busied herself with the contents of her bag when the elevator door slid open and an entourage of suits disembarked from the car.
She couldn’t help sneaking a peek at this “big man” chairman who had made Michelle’s knees tremble with fear and awe.
Isla nearly dropped her bag, because none other than Victor Corrigan stepped out first from the middle of the group, and at sixty-nine, the older man looked decades younger.
Talk about “Black don’t crack.” Isla forgot herself, openly gaping at the distinguished chairman of the Corrigan Group conglomerate, who’d retained the looks of his youth.
Victor carried a level of command that was otherworldly, never losing a step.
That same air of importance and power emanated from him, stretching from him like tentacles, wrapping her in them in the small space they were in.
It was equal parts suffocating and astounding, seeing him in person, being so close that if she wanted, she could touch him.
Well, right before his group of men and guards ground her into dust.
Victor was every bit as large in person as he’d been in the photos and interviews she’d seen throughout the years, yet there was something else about him that she couldn’t put her finger on, even though she knew he was cutthroat.
He was flanked by several others. The ones she recognized from the time she’d spent performing cursory searches of the family were his trusted right-hand manager and everything man Dixon, who never left his side; Bennett, the younger of Victor’s two sons, from his current marriage, who looked like a model in a tailored designer suit, with a touch of haughtiness that said he knew how good he looked; and Myles, the oldest, from Victor’s first marriage, who was the spitting image of his father in both looks and demeanor.
His hard-set, reserved demeanor contrasted Bennett’s softer and more conciliatory one.
Another man, who was tall, stocky, and sporting a well-cut beard, had an eternally tanned look, even in winter, and spent most of his time in the gym, kept a step behind Bennett.
The other men who stepped out last, she guessed, were lawyers, accountants, or security.
It was difficult to tell the difference among all the suits and grim expressions.
“You’d better have answers,” Victor was saying.
His tone was fierce, and though his words weren’t directed toward her, Isla still shuddered.
Isla inched closer to her side of the elevators, praying one would open before any of them noticed her.
She kept most of her back to them, but the urge to get a good, long eyeful of the man and the myth she’d heard about ten years ago and basically cyberstalked since then was too great, and she sneaked sidelong glances while also trying to pretend as if she wasn’t looking and definitely wasn’t listening.
He paused to continue talking, the group stopping short of bumping into each other to prevent themselves from touching him. “I want to know how this was overlooked and how he was able to pull it off. This was on your watch, Bennett, Danny.”
“Yes, sir,” Bennett and the stocky tanned one said in deference.
None of them acknowledged her. She thought they didn’t realize there was another person lurking in their bubble, listening to him grouse, or else they’d surely have shut him down, though she doubted anyone could.
Victor Corrigan started walking again, and then his posse, as she inched around the rear of them to slip into the elevator they’d just vacated.
She breathed a sigh, dodging that bullet, but her curiosity wouldn’t let her be.
She popped her head out through the doors as she held them open for one last peek.
The group had taken a right at the corner, heading toward the conference room, but the older son, Myles, slowed a half step, his attention caught by the elevator’s ping from being left open against its will.
He took a step back, and his gaze shifted in her direction.
A second too late, Isla threw herself back inside, pressing against the wall and praying he hadn’t caught her watching them or, worse, wouldn’t come looking.
She struggled to find the same circular L button she’d pressed a hundred times before.
The doors began sliding shut, and when she gathered the courage to look back up, no one was staring back at her.
Isla leaned against the handrail in the elevator as it zoomed down twenty-nine floors.
Now everything came crashing down on her.
They didn’t recognize her. But why would they?
It wasn’t her they knew. It was Eden. Still, the sight of Victor Corrigan was a gut punch back to the past, forcing all of it to rush back with nauseating clarity and memory.
She’d never met Victor Corrigan in person. She’d never known he existed until her best friend at the time, Eden Galloway, had spoken of him. That was over ten years ago, back in Daytona, where she and Eden had met.
The few times Eden had referred to this family, she’d said they were powerful, that her mother had once worked as Victor’s personal assistant and was accused of something and abruptly fired.
She said her mother was driven out of Charlottesville and was never the same afterward.
Eden had made them sound ominous and threatening.
This family had destroyed her mother’s life and Eden’s as a result.
The few times Eden had mentioned him, it had been with contempt, bitterness, and rage.
Then, after Eden’s mother Elise died and Eden and Isla decided to run away to LA, they took a Greyhound cross-country, making a stop in Virginia.
When Isla asked why they were there, Eden only said she had unfinished business with the Corrigans.
She left Isla alone in their motel room one night, saying everything would be over after then. That was all Isla knew.
That was the last time Isla saw Eden.