3. Fiona
Chapter 3
Fiona
If life gives you lemons, you’re supposed to make lemonade. What if life slams a bag of bricks against your head? Am I supposed to build a house?
It’s been seven months since my world imploded, but every morning when I open my eyes, the pain washes over me in a fresh wave. I shed my tears in the shower, doing my best to keep the sobs to a minimum. As devastating as it was to lose Andrew, he didn’t fight for me. He didn’t give me the benefit of the doubt. Then again, my father didn’t either. And neither of them gave me the chance to defend myself, which hurts most of all, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Nobody questioned my motive. Sure, I would test boundaries, but doing something so overtly against the rules like that? It’s just not me, and anyone close to me should have known that. None of it makes any sense.
Rosalee has been vital for my physical and mental recovery. She was livid at the cuts on my back, but understood I couldn’t go to a regular hospital, so she arranged for a former church affiliated private doctor to check me out. Once he finished cleaning up the mess on my back, I asked him to check for any signs of force against my body. He didn’t find any, and all the fluids were my own, but he found traces of Rohypnol in my blood. Unless Travis chickened out after he brought me to the hotel, it makes no sense why he didn’t appear to touch me. It was a massive relief, nonetheless.
I turn off the taps just like I turn off my emotions and put my game face on before I head into the kitchen to drown my sorrows in caffeine.
A few months ago, Rosalee set me up with a therapist who’s a former church member, so she also understands the need for discretion. I’m a tiny fish in a massive ocean teeming with sharks. I wouldn’t stand a chance, so reporting my father to the police isn’t an option. She’s helped me chip away at a lifetime’s worth of religious trauma. In the months since my excommunication, I’ve learned so much about the so-called church I grew up in. Turns out, it’s not normal for fathers to subject their daughters to physical torture in the garage when they misbehave. It’s not normal for a man two decades older than me to brutalize me and then tell me he loves me. The Church of the Infinitum is a cult. And I was the idiot who believed. Now, it’s like my eyes are open from a deep, horrific sleep.
Even though Andrew abandoned me because the church told him to, my heart breaks for him. He was a decent boyfriend. He never hit me or forced me to do anything against my will. Rosalee tells me he set the bar low. I’ll have to take her word for it.
She doesn’t acknowledge my presence as I pour the delicious coffee into my travel mug. I couldn’t sleep, so I’m early today. I grab a yogurt from the fridge and I join her at the table.
“Morning,” she mumbles, her eyes glued to her tablet as she munches on granola. Her headphones are in, but a glance shows a live video from the social media influencer she works for. My cousin and I are as opposite as you can get. Her Portuguese heritage on her mom’s side shines through in her glossy dark hair and tanned skin. Rosalee hates the reminder of her mom, considering they haven’t spoken since she was a pre-teen. Our dads are brothers, and I’m as plain as they come. Pale skin, blonde hair, green eyes. The only thing exotic about me is the lavender highlights I had done this weekend in rebellion to my former family.
Rosalee and her dad left the church a few years after her mom abandoned them. I remember little about it, other than my dad being furious.
She takes her earbuds out and looks me over. “I dig the lavender. It suits you.”
She works weekends as a bartender and is a personal assistant to the social media influencer during the week, so I hardly ever see her. It works well, considering I’ve been crashing on her couch in her small bungalow for the past seven months. If I get this next promotion at work, I’ll be able to afford my own place. She never complains though, never tries to push me out. She hates when I defend my family out of a messed up sense of loyalty I can’t seem to shake, but she understands I need time to sort it all out. I love her for it.
“Thanks. I keep imagining my stepmom’s reaction if she ever sees it.” The words are painful to get out, but they also make me smile.
“I’d pay good money to see the prim and proper Marissa Edgewater clutch her pearls and faint at such a travesty.”
We both laugh and she takes a sip of my coffee before she stands. “I gotta go. I’m taking Friday night off for my mental health. Want to hang out?”
“I’d love that.”
“I’ll treat you to a mani-pedi. My boss has threatened to fire me twice already if I don’t get my nails in order.” She rolls her eyes and I chuckle as she washes her bowl and sets in the drying rack.
We hug before she stuffs her designer heels in her bag and slides on her Birkenstocks. She flies out the door with a wave and I watch her pull out of her parking spot from the kitchen window.
I finish getting ready for work, piling my hair on top of my head with a clip and slipping into my dress slacks and my fitted white button down with violet flowers. I roll up the sleeves and grab my blazer before stepping into my comfy, sensible work shoes.
My commute downtown takes about forty-five minutes without traffic, and since Rosalee lives in the suburbs of LA, it takes double the time. I used to live much closer, but Andrew got the house because my name wasn’t on the mortgage. Why would it be? At least he let me keep the car so I didn’t have to take the bus to work, quadrupling my commute time.
I pull into the underground parking garage ten minutes early and take my empty travel mug with me so I can fill up on more caffeine during the afternoon slump. I’ve worked in the IT department at Reilly Tech for almost five years now. It took three years to get promoted to a supervisor on the cybersecurity team. I won a simulated hacking contest, beating out the competition by a mile. It was unconventional, but allowed me to showcase my skills in a male dominant industry without the prejudice. I’ll never forget the shock on their faces when they announced I won.
I love my job, but my goal is to transfer to the design team. I’ve always dreamed of being a part of the team responsible for some of the greatest technological achievements of our time. And to be part of James Reilly’s legacy? I can’t imagine anything more rewarding. I never got to meet him before he died, which is one of my biggest regrets. I idolized him since the first Reilly Tech computer my father allowed me, and I became obsessed with coding.
Luckily, the church doesn’t hold sway over Reilly Tech itself, so I got to keep my job. Half of my coworkers are in the church, though, which can be awkward, but their ignorance is not my problem. My biggest issue is that the man responsible for approving my promotion is in the front row every Sunday and has an ongoing bromance with my father. My only hope is the non-churchgoing managers who have my back. I’ve worked my ass off to get here, and I refuse to let a bunch of brainwashed assholes take away the only thing I have left.
I swipe my badge and ride the elevator into the basement. The doors open and I frown at the silence in the room. This time of day, people are usually milling about, savoring every second of peace until Arthur arrives and cracks the whip.
Everyone crowds around the TV, their rapt attention on a news broadcast. I step up next to a woman who I once called a friend. She turned her back on me like everyone else, but she still treats me like a human being.
“What’s going on?”
Cynthia glances at me. “Victor Angelo died and left his assets to Reilly Tech.”
My mouth drops open. “Whoa.” I won’t mourn the loss of the man himself, but his tech design team rivals ours. They’ve kept the company on its toes for decades.
“How did he die?”
“Helicopter crash.”
“Yikes.” That’s a shitty way to go.
The elevator dings, and we all wince when Arthur’s booming voice invades every inch of the space. “What the hell are you all standing around for?”
No one jumps to his bidding, but we disperse as someone turns off the TV. “Fiona. My office. Now!”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before I toss my bag into my office and follow him down to the end of the hall just off the bullpen.
“Ms. Reilly-Beck has summoned you to the Eagle’s Nest,” he says as he sets his things on his desk.
My eyebrows reach for the ceiling. “Me? Are you sure? For what?”
He glares at me. “I have more important things to do than answer your inane questions. Report to conference room B. They’re waiting for you.”
He turns his back to me as he digs through his bag, dismissing me. I’m too excited to let his surly attitude bother me. This must be because of the promotion. They’ll need more managers for the Angelo Tech acquisition.
I dash for the elevator, swiping my badge attached to the lanyard clipped to my belt, granting me access to the executive floors. I take the time in the elevator to prepare for a meeting with Emilia Reilly-Beck, James Reilly’s niece and the CEO of Reilly Tech. We’ve met a few times and to say she’s an intimidating woman is an understatement. Nepotism aside, she’s the best in the business and rules over her kingdom with fairness and a firm grip. I want to be her when I grow up.
The elevator opens on the top floor and I take in the chic grandeur. Glass walls, warm wood paneling and furniture, grayish blue accents with a pop of color here and there in a decorative vase. The framed prints were hand selected by Emilia’s husband, Xander Beck, who is LA’s top fine arts dealer and a sexy silver fox. You’ll know he’s in the office because the women, and several of the men, go giddy with excitement. You’d think a man like that would find it difficult to keep his admirers at bay, but he only has eyes for Emilia. That’s the type of relationship I want someday. I want a man who can support my success even as he creates his own. A man who isn’t intimidated, but enraptured by a strong, empowering woman. Too bad Xander Beck is one in a billion.
The office is quiet this early, so I pause at the portrait of James Reilly. I landed my job here about two years after he died. His funeral was live streamed to every church in the nation, and I sobbed right along with everyone else. His son, Luke, resembles him. He has a celebrity status in the church, though he’s never publicly unacknowledged any involvement. Everyone assumes he acts behind the scenes, so he doesn’t draw too much attention.
When I found Raf with Marissa, my teenage heart broke into a thousand pieces. I would imagine Luke coming to my rescue. In my fantasies, he would whisk me away to a new life where I didn’t have to pretend I was happy. If I was Luke Reilly’s girl, nobody would dare lay a hand on me. His kind eyes and charming smile would be the cure for Raf’s betrayal. That na?ve little girl is all grown up now. Luke never came to save me, but that’s okay. I saved myself.
I continue down the hall, hustling to pass Edgar Hamilton’s door as fast as possible. I relax my shoulders when there’s no sign of him. He’s the CFO of Reilly Tech, and Deanna’s father. The first rule of the church is you don’t talk about the church in public. It’s a privilege to be a member of such an elite club–blah blah blah. So nobody knows how powerful he is unless you’re in the church. I’m sure there have been attempts at whistleblowing by the excommunicated, but knowing how ruthless Infinitum can be, they are dealt with quickly and efficiently. While he’d probably ignore my existence, I do not relish coming face to face with that man.
My steps slow as I spot a group of three men through the glass walls of conference room B. They’re hunched over a laptop with files strewn across the table. The man on the laptop has his back to me, but I see the other two in profile. I question how one of them can fit through the door with his massive, broad shoulders.
The third man, who radiates authority, is Dylan Walsh. He’s been the head of Reilly Tech Security for a year now. He has a meeting once a week with Arthur and you’ll know it’s ten in the morning on Tuesday because the women in my office collectively reapply their lipstick and adjust their hair and clothing, hoping to capture his attention. It never works, though. He’s friendly and polite, but all business.
The other men wear matching black suits and ties, just like Dylan, so they must work for Maddox. Reilly Tech and Maddox Security have a long-standing partnership, but what does it have to do with me? Maybe they’re doing a thorough background check on me before they can promote me? But we get checked every year, plus there’s a random selection every month.
Emilia enters from the door that leads into her office, and I pick up my pace.
I step into the room, and everything stops as I sink into the most gorgeous pair of deep blue eyes I’ve ever seen. I haven't spared a thought for men since Andrew left me, so I’m unprepared for the way my body responds to this handsome stranger. The lights flicker and there’s a strange buzz, like electricity in a live wire. Is it static electricity? I’m not sure, but the hair on my arms stands on end. What the hell?
“Fiona? Everything okay?” Emilia asks, pulling me out of my stupor. Heat floods my face and I clear my throat.
“Yes. Sorry. Too much caffeine,” I say. She gestures for me to take the chair next to her. The electric man hasn’t moved, and I feel his gaze on me as I join Emilia on the opposite side of the table.
“Paul, remind me to ask maintenance to check on the lights,” she says as she takes her seat. The broad-shouldered man nods at her and she faces me.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the news about Victor Angelo?” she says with zero emotion and I nod. “Have you met Mr. Walsh?”
“Please call me Dylan,” he says.
The gargantuan man, who must be at least six foot five and pushing three hundred pounds of muscle, waves. “I’m Paul.”
I lock eyes with the electric man again, and I fight the strange pull between us. “Clay,” he says, staring at me like he’s never seen a woman before. He yanks his gaze away when Paul clears his throat.
“They’re from Maddox Security and I’ve hired them to assist with the security audit of the assets we’ll be receiving from Angelo Tech. I’m using the opportunity to audit our own systems before we’re inundated, to make sure we’re ready to receive them,” Emilia says. It takes a moment for her words to register. Updating and maintaining Reilly Tech security is part of my job. Our systems are state-of-the art. They’re self contained, and humans are rarely involved. The boss questioning their efficacy is not good.
“I don’t understand why that’s necessary,” I say, wondering where the hell I got my balls from. Finding who I am in this brave new world is exhausting, but moments like this make every step worth it.
Emilia raises an eyebrow. “It’s nothing personal. In fact, you’re here to assist them with their investigation.”
I press my lips together. Something must have happened. Outsiders only come in for suspicious activity. Our track record is flawless, so they must not have proof. Which means its simple paranoia. Understandable for a multi-billion dollar company, but I never took Emilia for the paranoid type.
“Clay is our tech guy at Maddox Security, so he’d like to look at your program and see if he can find any holes that you may have overlooked,” Dylan says, and I do my best not to glare at him.
Instead, I square my shoulders. “You won’t find any. I assure you.”
Clay’s condescending smirk only fuels my anger.
“Thank you for indulging their curiosity, Ms. Edgewater. I’ve granted them full access to our systems and they may speak to whomever they need to. You can trust them.” Her assistant waves at her from the other side of the glass. “I’ll inform Arthur that you will work directly with my team for the foreseeable future. I’ll leave you to it.”
Paul follows her through the door, and Dylan stands, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I need to take this. I’ll be right back.” He disappears down the hall and I look at anything but the man in front of me.
“This works better on a computer,” he says. My gaze jumps to his, and he raises a sexy eyebrow. When did eyebrows become sexy? “Unless, of course, you’re worried about what I’ll find?”
Why do the pretty ones always end up being jerks? I stand and take Dylan’s vacated seat next to him. “I don’t appreciate your tone or your implication.”
His other eyebrow joins the first and his stupid, smug grin only intensifies. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”
“Don’t call me ma’am.”
He purses his lips. “Yeah, you’re right. It doesn’t fit. How about Miss Priss?”
I ignore the challenge and motion towards the laptop. “Fiona or Ms. Edgewater is fine. Let’s get started.”
His gaze drops to my blouse, then strangely over both shoulders before he meets my eyes with a slow grin. “Sure thing, Flowers.”
I glance at the purple flowers on my shirt and frown. “Your creativity astounds me,” I deadpan.
He chuckles and something soft flutters in my belly. Must be the coffee settling.
“Shall we?” I say, motioning towards the laptop.
He purses his lips, then types as he explains what he’s looking for. My eyes narrow as he types code like he’s been doing it for ages.
“How old are you?” I ask.
He pauses, glancing at me. “Thirty. And you?”
“You don’t look thirty.” His freshly shaved face looks baby soft. Thick veins run across the top of his large hands and disappear under his sleeve. I can’t help but notice his shoulders straining against the fabric of his suit jacket. The pretty boy works out. How original .
“I have one of those youthful faces. You wouldn’t understand.”
Energy zaps in the room, but it has nothing to do with static. He continues to type like he didn’t just insult me, and I glare at the side of his face.
“I graduated with an MBA in cybersecurity last year, and I’ve worked for this company for the past five years. I went to James Reilly’s alma mater and if you search for the highest GPAs ever achieved in that school, you’ll find my name right under his. If you think for one minute I’m going to let some asshole try to tell me I don’t know how to do my job, you’re severely mistaken.”
He watches me throughout my speech, his cocky smirk making my voice rise with each syllable.
“Anything else?”
I cross my arms. “No.”
He leans closer and I back away, but my chair only gives me an inch. “As long as you have nothing nefarious to hide, I won’t need to tell you anything, Miss Priss.” His gaze travels down my body, like he’s imagining inappropriate things, and I hate that my body responds with obvious approval. As sexual tension coils at my core, I regret being too scared to use the vibrator Rosalee encouraged me to buy.
I shove those errant thoughts away and grab his tie close to his neck, holding him in place. “You ever call me Miss Priss again I’ll feed you your balls.” I don’t recognize the feral growl that escapes me and his eyebrows raise as I silently congratulate myself on growing a spine. The days of letting men have power over me are over. My smugness ebbs as his pillow-soft lips grab my attention. They’re so close, all it would take is one of us to move forward an inch and I’d get to prove my soft lip theory. Stop thinking about kissing this jerk!
Like he can read my mind, his eyes darken and his tongue peaks out as that strange static builds again.
“I see we’re getting along already,” Dylan says and we jump away from each other like teenagers caught making out behind the bleachers. Dylan eyes us both and I offer an apologetic nod.
“If you’ll excuse me. I’ll be back in twenty.” Clay stares at the laptop, but Dylan nods and I race from the room, ducking into the nearest bathroom and slamming the stall door shut as I try to catch my breath. What the hell is the matter with me? I’ve never been this flustered by a man. Especially not an arrogant prick like Clay.
I fist my hands and rationalize the past few minutes. Obviously, I feel my job is being threatened, so I remind myself they’re just here to poke around. I should take the compliment that Emilia trusted me to be the one to represent her. I use the restroom and grab a coffee and granola bar from the executive break room before I return.
Dylan is alone in the room. I can’t deny my curiosity at Clay’s absence, but I push my disappointment as far down as it will go. I’d die before I ask Dylan where he went. If we’re lucky, he jumped off the building to spare us from his arrogance.
“Clay had to step out, so we’ll work on the program stuff later. If you wouldn’t mind explaining a few of your processes while we wait for him, we can get started.”
It’s hours before Clay returns with sandwiches from the shop downstairs. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I grabbed a few options,” he says, shoving the bag towards me as I ignore the fact he did something thoughtful and included me. He’s just a jerk who brought sandwiches. Big deal.
I select the grilled ham and cheese. “Thank you.”
He nods, avoiding eye contact as he pulls out another laptop and bites into a meatball sub. He slurps on a can of orange soda, making my eye twitch. After the fourth slurp, I'm about to scream at him, but Paul appears from Emilia’s office to dine with us.
“How’s it going?” he asks.
I frown at him. “What part do you play?”
Everyone drops their sandwiches and stares at me. My cheeks turn pink at the unexpected attention.
“I’m Ms. Reilly-Beck's new personal bodyguard,” he says, taking a huge bite of his steak sandwich.
My eyebrows scrunch together. “Why does she need a personal bodyguard for a cybersecurity audit?”
They stare at me again for a long moment, then Clay chuckles.
“I told you she’d see right through it.”
Dylan glares at him so hard I’m surprised flames don’t shoot from his eyeballs. “Watch it,” he snarls.
Clay rolls his eyes and sets the remaining quarter of his sub on the messy paper in front of him. “Someone tried to infiltrate your system.”
My mouth drops open. “How?”
He grins. “That’s what we’re here to find out.”
I set my sandwich down and stare at the table as the implications fly through my head. I glance up to see them all still watching me. “A security breach like that is impossible.”
Clay shakes his head. “Obviously not.”
I chew on my inner lip as I play out scenarios in my head. “There must be a defect in the system, but I can’t imagine how it got there. What information were they after?”
“That’s classified,” Clay says and I snort.
“How long have you been waiting to use that phrase?”
He grins. “You have no idea.”
I heave a sigh, ignoring the charm of his genuine smile. If what they’re saying is true, my job is on the line. The only way to save it is to cooperate and figure out how to fix the enormous fuck up.
“I’ll cooperate in whatever way you need.”