Chapter Thirty Four #2
The elevator takes forever to ascend to floor three, my irritation bleeding to the surface like thousands of pins and needles beneath my skin.
My fists ache to hit something, anything nearby.
Aside from drinking the drug that wasn’t intended for me, this is the first time I’ve been directly affected by the hacker, unless it is a team of people.
Who fucking knows anymore? The doors slide open with a ping and my feet eat up the lino flooring.
Like all of the other floors, glass separates each office cubicle and there are far more potted plants than necessary.
If someone needs this much green in their lives, admin is the wrong fucking job for them.
Luckily, there’s not many people in today, unless they’re all on lunch.
Just a random goody-two-shoes who’s typing away at a desk and paying me no attention.
I head for the office farthest from the others, slumping into the chair behind the desk to gather my thoughts.
If it’s money this guy wants, then make the demand already.
I’d hand over a briefcase of cash if it meant keeping Harper out of harm’s way.
And when the bastard shows up to collect, I’ll cave his skull in with a rock.
I don’t mind getting my hands dirty to give karma a day off.
Coincidentally, Karma is the name of one of my father’s long-time secret lovers.
Logging into the computer, I pull up Peterson’s file and records.
There’s nothing unusual, and definitely nothing interesting.
He donates to the Samaritans every year and waves the PETA flag like he’s some kind of saint.
The guy’s never even had a smudge on his squeaky-clean record.
It’s only down to my father’s extensive background checks that Peterson even had his fingerprints on file.
What I need is access to his online banking to find out if he paid the stalker directly.
Unfortunately there are restrictions to what I can see on the campus computers without some kind of hacking equipment or the right passwords.
Throwing my head back in the chair, I’m close to giving up when opportunity walks in.
Brown hair, long legs, a tight pencil skirt, and red heels. Her matching colored lips part as she spots me sitting in what I’m presuming is her seat. Recognition flares in her dark eyes as she realizes who I am. Perfect. A slow grin spreads across my face.
“I have a special job for you,” I state before she can say a word.
“Can you access the online banking records of a staff member, or get me statements for the last two months? My father has sent me here personally to see this is done discreetly, and rumor has it, you’re the best employee on this floor.
” I add a slow, deliberate wink that turns her cheeks crimson.
Shifting aside so she can sit down, my hand rests on the back of her chair as I lean in close. Her breath catches as she inhales the scent of my cologne and presses her thighs together under the desk. Hook, line, and fucking sinker.
I stay where I am, letting her imagination picture things that will never happen.
Harper’s ruined me for anyone else, and the thought of touching another woman makes my skin crawl.
God, how I’ve changed, but if playing the charming bastard keeps Harper safe, I’ll do it.
Besides, maybe this poor, lonely woman needs something to think about when she’s home with her vibrator later. Consider it a public service.
At my direction, Peterson’s name flashes onto the screen, and she releases a small, knowing sound.
She’s clearly heard about the scandal that will be working its way across the academy.
I can already see the headlines. Teacher Torches Deaf Student.
The tabloids will be crawling with interviews from self-proclaimed witnesses who have no idea what is actually happening.
Reporters will be swarming campus by morning.
Another reason I need to get back to Harper before the world closes in on her.
The administrator’s fingers fly over the keys, the mouse clicking between windows I never even knew existed.
Within minutes, she’s pulled up the bank’s site and starts entering the passwords Peterson has used on the teacher’s portal over the years.
On the fourth try, she’s in. She opens his most recent statement, and my eyes sweep the transactions, searching for anything off. Then I see it.
Two hundred and fifty dollars a week to a D.H.
Cornstone. A very specific amount, transferred regularly for the past three months.
His savings are bleeding out, not just to Cornstone but also to restaurants and hotel stays.
Expensive ones. Even without Harper replaying their conversation on our way back to mine, I’d be able to conclude that Peterson is having an affair.
He’s draining his savings, and no doubt, his daughters’ college funds.
Grabbing a pen and the nearest stack of heart-shaped post-its, I scrawl my own bank details and slide it across the desk.
“What’s your name?” I ask, remembering people are supposed to have manners. Her dark brown eyes flick up to mine, her breath fanning my neck in my hunched over position.
“A–Amanda Hammond,” she breathes. Lust fills her vision, an effect I’m used to having on men and women alike. I’m many people’s kink, the damaged asshole everyone wants to fix. I never thought someone would actually break through my defenses and make that dream a reality though.
“Amanda. This is my personal account. See to it that every cent Peterson sent to this Cornstone person is reimbursed directly into his wife’s account.
Then call her and explain that her husband’s a lying piece of cheating shit and that the Waverseas will take care of her family.
Starting with indefinitely offering scholarships to her two children. ”
Amanda’s eyes widen, awe replacing lust. That’s when it hits me, what I’ve just done. Somewhere in the last minute, I slipped right into my father’s role without even realizing it. The authority. The control. The power.
Only when her gaze glances back up to me, this time filled with awe, do I realize my mistake.
I got so caught up in my own thoughts, I hadn’t even realized the role I’d fallen into so naturally.
What the fuck am I doing? I was supposed to be running the investors and the scholarship program into the ground, not offering out more spaces.
The ease which that dominating tone came to me has knocked the air from my lungs.
Fuck, I’m going to be just like him. I’m turning into my father, the generous CEO and founder’s beneficiary. I can’t let that happen.
I leave the office without another word. My feet move on autopilot, carrying me to the elevator. I pace the entire way down, cracking my knuckles, breathing through the pressure building under my skin. When the doors open, I take one long inhale and let it out through my teeth.
Okay. I’m back. There’s no time for my DNA-deep rot to bleed through right now.
I have to focus on the immediate threats and on holding myself together at the seams. Once this is over and I’ve won Harper’s heart, I’ll make sure to never act so responsibly again.
Rational thought doesn’t suit me. It rubs like sandpaper against my instincts.
I race home, slicing through traffic, cutting up cars, and flipping off a bird that swoops too close to my helmet.
By the time I pull into the garage, my heartbeat is finally leveling out.
I ease Nina into her spot, kissing my fingertips and pressing them to her tank before draping the cover over her.
Even from inside the garage, I can hear laughter drifting through the walls.
It hits a nerve I didn’t know was raw. Straightening my spine, I walk around the back porch and towards the door, every step reigniting the asshole I am and bringing it back to the surface.
This is where I’m comfortable, where it’s safe to hide in plain sight.
Don’t give anyone a reason to expect more from you, and you can’t disappoint them.
Entering my house, the kitchen island is covered with empty takeaway containers.
Harper, shithead-one and cockface-two are sitting around the dining table.
Between their plates of Chinese, my vintage Dom Perignon is uncorked and shared out between three mugs.
Champagne in mugs, it’s fucking sacrilege.
Between lifting forkfuls of food to their mouths, they are practicing sign language with each other.
The sight is cozy, warm, and irritating as fuck. I’m an outsider in my own home. Spotting me standing in the doorway with my arms hanging uselessly by my sides, Harper jumps up to make her way over to me.
“Hey, we saved you some food.” Her arms wrap around my middle but my gaze is on the two grinning bastards at my table.
“That was nice of you,” I drawl sarcastically. Harper shrugs, leading me over to the island to hand me a plate piled high with Chinese. Her eyes dancing with a drunken glaze.
“I suppose so. We used your credit card.”
A smile warms the corners of my mouth, the turmoil in my being finally starting to thaw. That’s right, I can give Harper the lifestyle she deserves. I have my uses.
Addy moves into the kitchen under the guise of searching the cupboards for another bottle of champagne.
I sit at the island, eating and filling Harper in on what I’ve found out.
I don’t like Addy hovering too close, eavesdropping for details I might reveal.
Waiting to see if I’ve found something to implicate her. I know her type.