Chapter 26
The contents of Evan Walsh’s crypto disclosure are scattered across my desk like a paper bomb, thanks to yesterday’s court order. PDF printouts, wallet screenshots, and exchange histories all laid out for me to pry through.
For the last hour, I’ve been trying to match transaction numbers between the documents and the spreadsheet my paralegal prepared, but something is wrong. Really wrong.
The transactions skip.
There’s a gaping hole of missing data, and I feel my stomach drop through my ass into my office chair as I take a second look, then a third. By the sixth, I’m certain there’s a mistake here.
I’d like to believe that when I chose which paralegal to work with me, I chose the best. Yet, it seems every week there’s something else that’s missed or jumbled. And this right here? This is a nightmare.
I’ve got a forensic accountant waiting for my folder to come through so they can begin tracking money.
Only now, I’ve got a missing span of three hundred transfers to find first. It wouldn’t be completely unrealistic to assume that Evan “accidentally” forgot to include said transfers when his lawyer sent everything over, but something tells me this issue happened on our end.
Spencer’s already swimming circles around me like a hungry shark after learning of my motion for these files, and if he heard that someone on my team fucked them up? He’d take a chunk out of me and then swat me around like orcas do with their food.
Rowena wasn’t upset about my plan. She approved it immediately the moment she finished reading through the motion, and that only pissed him off more. I’m not about to let this cause any issues for me. Not when I know that I can fix it.
Opening up the shared folders with all of the original files, I search through each one until I find what I’m looking for.
It takes longer than I wanted it to for me to move them back into place and then restart my initial read-through of the spreadsheet.
Even longer to finish it and start a second time, needing it to be perfect before sending it through to Rowena and the accountant.
There’s tension between my eyebrows that’s only grown in strength since I woke up this morning in my bed, alone and confused. The last thing I remember is the slow drag of Finn’s nails up my back as he held me against his chest, neither of us speaking for a long time.
That must have been when I fell asleep and he carried me to my bedroom. God, I couldn’t have even woken up for a second to see that? I’ve never been carried anywhere by a man, yet here I am, sleeping through my first and possibly only time.
Truthfully, I didn’t think he could do it. I’m not a small woman by any means, and yeah, he’s jacked, but not to the point where I’ve ever considered asking him to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder when my feet hurt.
I know better now.
Rubbing the space between my brows with my thumb, I close my eyes and slouch forward. The cold edge of my desk digs into my stomach, briefly distracting me from the throb in my head.
Maybe this headache is karma for not texting Finn this morning and telling him that I had a good time last night. I had the message all typed out before I left for work but couldn’t press Send. It felt wrong to tell him that, as if what we did was just something I’d have done with anyone.
He’s not some fling. And I don’t know what the protocol is when it comes to riding your best friend’s covered dick to completion in the middle of the night. A simple hey, that was great, let’s do it again sometime feels pretty gross.
My phone buzzes from beside my keyboard, and I open my eyes, searching for the lit screen beneath the mess of papers. After swiping away a few printed screenshots, I see a picture of a smiling Finn with his lips pressed to my cheek on my phone.
I swallow the sudden ball in my throat and pick it up. “Hey.”
“Well, hello, my pretty worker bee. You sound stressed.”
“You can tell that from a simple hey?” I ask, unable to bite back my grin.
“Is that a serious question?”
I lean back in my chair and let Finn distract me from the pain in my head. “I guess not.”
“Anyway, yes, I can tell from a simple hey. And you’re worrying me. What’s up?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be at Wes’ place?”
“I am. That doesn’t change the fact that I know something’s bothering you.”
I uncross my legs and drop my second foot to the ground, rolling out my ankle. “I just found a problem in one of my files. I’ve already fixed it.”
“Was it Spencer? I can come by and give him a wedgie if you want.”
“Are you drinking?” I ask, the teasing in my voice far more obvious than I intended.
Finn never drinks. There’s no reason for it, either. He’s just never been interested in alcohol, which would have been a massive score for me in college had I been big into partying myself. What college kid wouldn’t be excited about having a permanent designated driver?
“Har-har. No. I’m just feeling a bit protective today,” he states bluntly.
“Of me?”
“Who else? You’re the only one.”
I pause, my heart climbing into my throat. “The only one what?”
“Are you going to make me say it?” he asks, his voice dropping low.
“Yeah, I am.”
He chuckles, the raspy sound of it shooting down to my toes, making them curl in my heels. “Yeah, that’s my girl. You’re the only person I get like this for, Aubrey.”
“Your girl? That’s pretty assuming.”
I kick myself instantly, not meaning it.
“Did you think that last night meant nothing to me? That I’d willingly kiss you like that and have you writhing on my lap without wanting to have some sort of claim on you? You know me better than that.”
“Yes, I do. I’m not sure why I said that,” I say too quickly, feeling my body heat, both with the reminder of last night and the sheer embarrassment of stumbling over myself with Finn, of all people.
He’s the one person that I never stumble with.
Things are already so different. That’s terrifying for someone like me.
“I should have stayed last night so we could have figured all this out this morning. Instead, I let you spend your day convincing yourself how terrible of a decision this is, didn’t I?”
“What even is this?” I ask, nearly whispering.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Aubrey.”
“Finn—”
“I wasn’t finished,” he declares, and I bite my lip, shutting up.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, and I like that.
What we did last night felt right. You know that as well as I do.
I’m not sure what this is, exactly, and I know you’re not ready to put any sort of label on it yet, either.
It’s new, though. And I’m feeling pretty confident in the fact that I want to do what we did again. And soon.”
I’m holding my breath. I realize that when my lungs start to burn and I push strained air out of my mouth.
There’s a rapid throb in my chest, trapped behind my rib cage.
I repeat his words to myself, analyzing them like a weirdo before parting my lips around nothing, unable to speak.
Everything sounds and feels too good. Like I should be preparing myself for the inevitable “gotcha!” to follow his declaration.
“You feel the same way I do, Bree. I know that because I know you. And that means that I can tell when you’re overthinking something without needing to be there to see your nose scrunch and fingers tapping on your thigh.
This isn’t some court case, and I’m not one of the men you’re preparing to rip to shreds.
I’m your best friend. I won’t let you run because you’re scared this is going to mess up our friendship. ”
I curl my tapping fingers into the black fabric of my skirt and suck in a breath. “How are you not scared?”
“I am,” he admits, laughing tightly. “I’m just as terrified as you are. But I’m also too stubborn to let that fear keep me away from getting what I want.”
“And that’s me?”
My skin feels prickly and hot. The silk blouse I’m wearing suddenly scratches, and my skirt is too tight around my thighs, restricting my ability to spread them enough that I can try and ease the pressure between them.
I press them together instead, but that makes it worse.
A moan claws its way up my throat before I bite it back.
“Yeah, that’s you. And I’m as confident as I am stubborn. So, come to a concert with me this weekend. Not as best friends. Come as my date. We can see where it goes after that, alright?”
“I already know everyone’s going to that concert,” I say, my voice breathy.
“We’ll go out before. And you’ll still be my date. My game’s at noon, and then I’m all yours.” He pauses for a beat. “Just say yes.”
“Will you promise me that even if it goes badly, or we suddenly get the ick from one another, it won’t ruin anything?”
I can picture his smile when his laugh hits me, warm and loud. “Easiest promise I’ve ever made.”
“There’s that confidence.”
“I’ve got more than enough for the both of us, Bree.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, either,” I blurt out, my eyes squeezing shut as if that’ll save me from his reaction. “Just—just so you know. It isn’t just you.”
“I knew it wasn’t just me, but it still feels really good hearing you tell me that.”
“Good.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to hearing more.”
I rub my lips together, finding them dry. “Like what?”
“What exactly have you been thinking about?”
“You know what.”
“No, I don’t. And I really, really want to hear exactly what I’ve been doing in that brilliant mind of yours,” he murmurs, almost purring the words.
I try to spread my legs again but grind my teeth at the restrictive material wrapped around them. My huff is too loud, too rough. Too audible.
“Are you in your office?” he asks, rougher this time.
Reaching up to touch my throat, I can feel my pulse racing. “Yes.”
“Show me.”
“You want me to send you a selfie in my office?”
“I would never say no to getting a selfie from you, but that’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
I roll my lip between my teeth, dropping my eyes down to where I’m already gripping my skirt. “Where are the guys?”
“I’m in one of the spare rooms,” he soothes, and I hear what sounds like a lock click into place. “I want to try something with you.”
“You want to have phone sex in Wes’ guest room?”
“You’re driving me crazy, Aubrey. Do you want to hear what I’ve been thinking about?”
I shouldn’t. This is too new for where we are right now. But the unknown feels a lot more welcoming than it usually does. The part of my brain that should be telling me to run is beckoning me forward, reminding me that this is Finn.
And shit, I want this.
That’s why I’m already tugging up my skirt and spreading my thighs the way I’ve been dying to. And why I’ve plucked open the top button of my blouse that’s been suffocating me since I picked up the phone.
I want to try this with him. Right here, right now.
“Yes,” I whisper.