Chapter 4 #2
I click the link to an article that outlines our investment plan and hints at our intention to take over both divisions of the Heidemann holdings.
What the ever-loving fuck?
I bet the Kutsenkos are loving every minute of this. We’re supposed to be sticking it to them, not the other way around. This pisses me the fuck off.
I look at my watch and notice it’s a few minutes after eight. Even I have some boundaries. I can’t call Liesel. I sure as fuck am not calling Gunter, that lying sack of shit. He did this. What’s worse is he knows it’ll put his daughter in my crosshairs. What game is he playing?
“Guten Morgen, Fr?ulein.” Good morning, miss.
Liesel narrows her eyes at me.
Was it something I said? Like using the now antiquated—even bordering on offensive—greeting for an unmarried woman.
Was it my showing up before she even arrived at the office? I’m leaning my left shoulder against the wall with my right ankle crossed over my left and my right hand in my pocket.
“Guten Morgen, Herr Diaz.” Good morning, Mr. Diaz.
“Wir müssen über Ihr anhaltendes Problem mit der Vertraulichkeit sprechen.” We need to speak about your ongoing problem with confidentiality.
The only accent I have when I speak German is German. It shocks the shit out of her.
Of course, someone in my family speaks the language of a country where we do frequent business.
I speak French and German, just like Tío Enrique.
Joaquin speaks Mandarin, Vietnamese, and Cambodian.
Javier speaks Japanese and Korean. Tío Luis and Alejandro speak Brazilian Portuguese and regular Portuguese.
Pablo speaks Russian and Italian. Since we’ve all lived in New York or just outside the city in New Jersey, we even have healthy doses of Yiddish.
We’re all native Spanish speakers. Only Pablo and Alejandro grew up in the States. The rest of us came from Colombia at varying ages from teen to adult. A Spanish accent flavors everyone’s English—when we allow it.
“Speaking German with a voice like a foghorn certainly won’t help.”
Liesel practically hisses at me. I don’t think I spoke that loudly, but she glances at the employees walking over from the elevator.
I reach past her and open the office suite’s door, holding it for her.
She heads straight to her office, unlocking it with a code she shields me from seeing.
I shut the door behind me as she whirls around.
“Did you hack my calendar?”
So, we’re going there, are we?
“That’s quite the accusation.”
“That’s not a denial. That’s a diversion. Did you?”
“You assume I took my mother to dinner to spy on you.”
“Silence is consent, so I will take your evasiveness as an admittance.”
“If I wanted to spy on you, Liesel, I wouldn’t sit out in the open. I also wouldn’t be halfway through my meal when you arrived.”
I wasn’t spying. I was watching in plain sight. And it was her fault we were halfway through our meal because she was late.
“And it was fate that we had tables next to each other.”
“It was.” Not bending the truth on that.
I walk closer, and she moves to put the desk between us. I cock an eyebrow. Her scowl eases as she silently admits she knows I’m not a physical threat.
“If anyone should be lobbing accusations, it should be me toward you for corporate espionage.”
“Espionage? That’s outrageous. What do I stand to gain from your family walking away? I don’t consider my professional reputation and that of my family’s firm being ground into the dirt a gain.”
“You may worry about your professional reputation, but your father doesn’t. At the very least, he should care about the company’s.”
I watch that strike between the eyes. She practically jerks back but catches herself. I practically crumble into ash from the way she’s glaring at me. But I shall always be a phoenix—even if it’s my older brother who’s named Joaquin.
“This company has been around since long before you and I were born. It’s doing just fine without you or your family.”
“For now.”
“Are you threatening me, Jorge?”
The way she says my name. She tries for condescending, but I take it as a challenge.
“Liesel—”
“That’s not my name.”
“Liesel—”
“Sei nicht begriffsstutzig, Jorgito.” Don’t be obtuse, little Jorge.
No one’s called me that since before my dad died. An event like that ages a kid.
I grin, so she can’t see how the nickname rattles me. It was special when Papá said it. Hor-he-toe. I refuse to allow an argument with this spitfire to taint that memory. Just the opposite. I could get used to it—though no one’s said there’s anything little about me in nearly thirty years.
Her blend of German with the Spanish is hot.
Her pronunciation tells me she isn’t a Spanish speaker, which begs the question how she knows the nickname.
But it reassures me she didn’t read my notes.
Not that it matters since I wrote nothing she would’ve understood even if she was a fluent speaker. It was my shorthand.
“I’m not threatening you. I’m pointing out the obvious. By now, half the corporate world has read the news. They’ll know my family didn’t intend that to go public. They’ll know the information came from within your organization, not mine.”
“Because our employees don’t fear us like yours do you?”
She steps around the desk, no longer hiding from me. Ballsy. She’s only safe because she’s a woman.
“If that’s what you believe, then you know the risk you take with that accusation.”
“I’m not accusing you. I’m pointing out the obvious.”
I shrug as I slide my hands into my pockets. Not that I need them, but the two knives are always a reassuring presence.
“It was nice almost doing business with you, Liesel.”
“And if I can prove the Kutsenkos sold the companies to their own shell corps? That you could still buy them from them? Out from under them?”
That gets my attention.
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Confidential.”
She has the most expressive eyes. They’re windows to her soul when she opens the blinds. They can be blank when she wants them to be, but they can hold a wealth of messages when she allows it. They’re mocking and challenging again.
I slide my hands out of my pockets, so my suit coat falls back into place.
I don’t need her seeing what she does to me as my dick twitches.
What I wouldn’t give to nibble at her plump lips while pinching and twisting her nipple until she whimpers with need.
What I wouldn’t give to spin her around and fuck her ass against her desk.
The lurid images dancing through my mind aren’t encouraging my cock to behave.
“Liesel, even if you could prove that, why would I ever trust you?”
She practically bares her teeth at me when I use my pet name for her, but her eyes—they tell me she likes it.
“Because it wasn’t me.”
“No, it was your father. Your boss and the owner of this company sold a story that cost us millions in potential revenue. As long as you work here, you’re as untrustworthy as everyone else.”
“If I’m so horrible, leave.”
“I didn’t say you’re horrible.” You’re magnificent when you’re angry. “But you’re guilty by association. That’s what makes you untrustworthy. Leave this firm, and I might believe you.”