Chapter 34 The Deep Dive
THE DEEP DIVE
DAMON
The temperamental December sun beats down on my face, water lapping against the shore as I stare out into the Hudson River.
This is where it all ended. This is where I lost a part of myself that I thought I’d never get back.
A chill courses down my spine as I glance at the exact location where the chopper went down.
Where their last breaths were taken. It should scare me, frighten me beyond belief, but it’s calm. Almost serene in its stillness.
My gaze snaps to a seagull flying overhead. It glides with magnificent ease before diving down toward the water, its wings tucked tightly against its body.
I can see its determination as it focuses on target—a small fish swimming just below the surface. In a swift motion, the seagull scoops the fish out of the water. The fish helplessly flaps its fins as the seagull flies away, triumphant.
I used to know how that feels—victory. To see something and take it. With no second thought, with no regard, with no guilt. The fish struggles against the talons until it doesn’t. That’s what happens when you take an animal out of its natural environment. It dies. It becomes a victim of fate.
I don’t want to do that to Emery. I don’t want that type of relationship.
One that stems from an animalistic hierarchy of predator and prey.
I want us both to soar. To explore the same sky, to dive into the same waters, to see eye to eye.
To be partners. In every respect. Tonight.
I’ll tell her tonight. I’ll show her tonight.
The rematch of a lifetime.
My phone vibrates against the set of helicopter keys in my pocket, and I swallow, reminding myself that destiny exists only in my mind, in my ability to change perspective.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Cavanaugh…” Miranda's voice trails off, nervous. “Umm… You told me to inform you if someone ever tried to access the VenCore files.” My blood turns cold. “We, uh… We just got a hit on the internal servers.”
My jaw tenses. “Who?” It’s a stupid question. I knew she’d come across that name eventually. And with her memory? She’d remember that name. “Miranda?”
“The request came from Miss Jones’s IP address,” she says. “Should I block her access completely? Or?”
My heart sinks. I've been dreading this moment. If she gets her hands on those files, it could mean the end of everything. If she doesn’t pry, there’s no problem. As long as I steer her away, nothing will happen.
I try to keep my voice steady as I reply, "I’ll handle it. Thank you, Miranda.”
As she hangs up, my palms start to sweat. I need to act fast if I want to stay ahead of Emery.
I race back to the office, my mind spinning with possibilities.
What if she's found a way around the firewall? What if she bypassed security? I take a deep breath and force myself to focus on the task at hand. It’s fine.
Even if she did see the files, there’s no way she’d put it together. There’s no way.
When I arrive at her door, she’s sitting at her desk, her attention glued to the computer screen. She looks up as I knock, her expression surprised but not unfriendly.
"You look like you could use this," I say, trying to keep my tone light as I glance down to the coffee in my hand. I hold up the cup, hoping that she'll take the bait. To my relief, she seems momentarily thrown off guard but takes it. “Careful. It’s hot.”
She takes a small, hesitant sip. “This is—”
“Half-caf,” I verify. “Black.”
Her lips twist up. “How did you…?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. Trying to act like I don’t know each and every one of her preferences. “I pay attention.”
She tries to hide it, but her faint smile is tinged with appreciation. “Thank you,” she says. “I needed this.”
“Busy day?” I ask, sitting down in front of her, my tone casual.
“Tedious day,” she sighs, leaning back into her chair.
She rubs her temples. “We’ve got four more accounts to consolidate before handing the files to the auditors.
I’ve been trying to access one for the last two hours, but my logins aren’t working.
” She tilts her head down, an unreadable expression on her face. “Why can’t I access VenCore LLC?”
My heart rate spikes. I need to be careful, to deflect her questions without arousing suspicion. “That’s odd. You should have open access. It’s probably just a system error. I can get Miranda to check it out.” I swallow subtly. “Why don’t you just skip over that account? I’ll deal with it myself.”
Emery's not so easily fooled. "I’d prefer to do it myself,” she says. “For the sake of quality control and all.”
I give her a disarming smile. “Is that a jab at me, Miss Jones?”
She rolls her eyes. “Not everything is about you, Mr. Cavanaugh. I’m just trying to do my job.” She tilts her head. “And do it well.”
I chuckle. “If I recall correctly, Miss Jones, wasn’t there something about being a team player on your resume? Let me handle this one, okay? I promise I won’t disrupt your impeccable reporting system.”
She stares at me for several charged seconds. “What is VenCore? It sounds…familiar.”
Of course, it sounds familiar. That fucking reporter at the gala mentioned it right in front of her.
I know it was Quinton who leaked it. Who else could it have been?
Clearly, he didn’t spill all the deep, dark secrets connected to VenCore, but he served up a taste.
A tiny crumb. I can’t have mice following the trail.
Discovering the truth. Especially not Emery. She’d never look at me the same again.
A rush of panic passes through me but I keep it at bay and lean back into my chair, feigning ignorance. She could be testing me. My reaction.
“VenCore?” I ask in a hum. “I’m not entirely sure. It’s hard to keep track of every single client. They’re probably a smaller account.”
“Yeah?” She arches an eyebrow. “I don’t think I’ve seen them on our client list before.”
I keep an unaffected tone. “Maybe they’re new. Probably why you haven’t seen them in our database.”
“I see…” She nods, seeming to accept my explanation for now. “I didn’t know Cavanaugh Industries dealt with small accounts.”
“By small, I mean in the low millions, Miss Jones,” I say, keeping my tone light and playful.
“Right,” she hums. “Well, let me know if you need any help with that.”
I grin at her. “I’ll keep that in mind, Miss Jones. But I have a feeling I can handle it.” Emery’s gaze is piercing, still borderline suspicious, and I know I need to change the subject before she starts digging too deep. “What are your plans tonight, Miss Jones?”
She purses her lips. “Why?”
The engine keys in my pocket force a loaded pause.
“I’d like to…” The words get caught in the back of my throat.
“I’d like to take you on a date.” I swallow, a fluttering in my chest. “A real date. Not just—” She fills in the blanks herself, stiffening, and I ignore her hesitant reaction.
Not just sex. “Would you like that, Miss Jones?”
She chews on her bottom lip, and I wish I could hear her thoughts, be privy to her process, to her complex mind and all its wonders. “A date?” she says slowly. “Without any…”
I reign in a chuckle. “If you want dessert, Miss Jones, we’ll have dessert,” I smirk, cocking my head. “But I’d like a full meal prior to…indulging.”
“A meal is never complete without dessert, Mr. Cavanaugh,” she hums, shoulders relaxing as she gives me a small smile. “If I say yes, will you tell me the truth about VenCore?”
My lip twitches. “There’s nothing to tell, Emery.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me would you, Damon?”
I hold her gaze, my mind racing. Breathe. Don’t let her suspect anything. Just breathe.
"Of course not, Emery. I wouldn't lie to you." The words come out smooth, but inside, I'm fucking trembling. "So, what do you say? Dinner tonight?"
Emery hesitates for a moment, uncertain. I can see her struggling to decide whether or not to trust me. But then, she slowly nods.
"Okay," she says softly. "I'll go on a date with you."
I feel a surge of triumph, but I keep my face neutral. "Wonderful," I say, standing up from my chair. "Meet me up on the roof at seven.”
As I turn to leave, Emery's voice stops me. "Damon?" I turn back to face her, my heart beating faster. Her tone is firm, unwavering. “I hope you're not keeping anything from me. Because if you are, it will only make things worse."
I hold her stare, refusing to back down. "I'm not keeping anything from you, Emery," I say, my voice steady. "You can trust me."
She studies me for a moment longer before nodding, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Okay," she says again. "I'll see you on the roof at seven."
Only when I’m outside her orbit do I allow myself to breathe again. As I make my way back to my office, my mind churns with all the worst-case scenarios. I stop myself. No. This isn’t going to happen. Everything will be okay. She’ll move on. She’ll get past it. I’ll make her forget.
But as I sit down at my desk and plan tonight’s date, I keep coming back to VenCore. The thought of Emery uncovering the truth, of discovering the depths of my wickedness, gnaws at my very core. Accident or not, she’ll loathe me. That can’t happen. I need to know the extent of the potential damage.
I pick up my phone and dial Quinton's number, waiting impatiently for him to answer. When he finally does, I get straight to the point.
"What did you tell the reporter about VenCore?”
There's a brief pause, then he sighs. “Uh oh. Did something happen?”
“Quinton.”
“Cavanaugh,” he snaps in a mocking tone. He laughs. Fucker. “Listen, I haven’t uttered that name in years, mate. Not to anyone. Especially not the fucking press.”
“Bullshit,” I grunt. “I know it was you. There’s no one else.”
“Looking into crystal balls again?” he jeers. “While I find your misplaced confidence simply adorable, you’re wasting your time. I have no desire to open that specific can of worms. Look for your blabbing culprit elsewhere.”
“There’s no one else,” I seethe. “It’s you.”
He sighs. “No one else? You can’t think of one single person who’d have a vendetta against you? I doubt that, Cavanaugh. Men like us are born with enemies. Look harder.”
“Fuck you.”
“Send little Emery my regards,” he coos. “I hope her throat is feeling better.”
My teeth clench together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Quinton lets out a boisterous laugh. “Brilliant. My data is adding up perfectly. Take care now, Cavanaugh. Good luck finding your rat.”
I hang up on him, slamming the receiver on the dock. I already found the rat. Now it’s a matter of extermination.