Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Rush
I hear Gigi’s soft gasp and I turn to her, the dollop of yogurt dropping on the table.
She’s staring at her screen, her eyes wide.
She doesn’t look like a woman who’s attempting to sabotage me. She looks shocked, and honestly…afraid.
Then again, maybe that’s her specialty. Looking like a victim.
“What is it?”
Her eyes flick to mine, the look of dazed fear evaporating. She gives her head a little shake, then clicks a button. “I found something.”
“What?” I ask, as she pushes the computer toward me.
Emma scoops up the fallen yogurt with her fingers, popping it into her mouth. Then she grabs the spoon from my hand, pulling the yogurt container closer, and helps herself to another bite.
My brows lift. She can feed herself with a spoon? How did a three-year-old just get the better of me?
But my attention returns to Gigi. “What do you see?”
“See this here.” She points at a line halfway down the screen. “That seems like a lot for a tire and auto company.”
“What?” I ask again. In every deal, there are plans and proposed expenses. Even things like porta potties are accounted for.
But as I look at the line she is pointing at, my brows furrow. “Probably equipment repair.”
“I’ve never done a deal this big, so maybe it’s normal, but…” Then she points to seven more lines.
The amount of money is beyond ridiculous.
I pull her computer closer, scouring the report. Large construction equipment is expensive to maintain, but this amount of money is staggering. “Fu?—”
“Fudge,” Gigi says over me, her brows slashing into a deep line.
Right. My very accommodating assistant has a few lines I’m not to cross where her daughter is concerned. Noted.
“I want some,” Emma adds as she takes her final bite of yogurt. “I like fudge.”
For some reason, the comment makes me smile.
A little. Maybe one corner of my mouth. It’s eight in the morning, and fudge is hardly appropriate, but I wouldn’t mind some either, maybe with some scotch, because this discovery feels significant and it would be nice to celebrate. There hasn’t been much of that lately.
Instead, I pop a bite of strawberry in my mouth, even as Emma leans over and grabs a grape.
Chewing, I click over to the other screen she opened and find the home page for Wilson’s Tire and Auto and then scan down the page.
The address makes me snarl, a feral sound that rolls through my teeth.
That’s when the spoon clatters first to the table and then to the floor. I automatically bend down to pick it up, and go to hand it back to Emma, but she doesn’t take it.
I look at her, the sight of her pulling me from my thoughts. Her eyes are full of tears, her bottom lip out, as she looks at me with wary eyes.
Gigi is up, circling behind me, before she scoops her daughter in her arms, cradling the child close.
I sit back, noting that Gigi looks beautiful like this. Leggings, little T-shirt, softly tousled hair, her gorgeous body curled around the child’s.
I’ve gotten a few different views of Gigi this morning and they did not disappoint.
But this one might be the most beautiful, her arms around Emma as she softly murmurs words of comfort into the child’s hair.
“What just happened?” I ask, wondering if it has something to do with me.
Emma turns away, burrowing deeper into her mother.
“Nothing,” Gigi answers automatically, stroking her hand down Emma’s back. But Emma’s pajama shirt has ridden up, and I catch a red mark on her back. Did she just hurt herself? Is that what I missed?
Gigi smooths her hand down Emma’s back, pushing the shirt back into place, and she continues our conversation like nothing happened. “I can keep looking at the documents to see if anything else pops out. Would you send me the previous version of the proposed expense report for comparison?”
“Of course,” I say, standing. Emma shudders, curling away from me. My brow furrows again.
“Is there anything else you need from me today?” Gigi asks, hugging Emma tightly. Am I being politely dismissed?
I am in her apartment, and this is Saturday, but I am also her boss, and I end meetings when I’m damn good and ready. I straighten up, my shoulders expanding, even as Emma shrinks smaller in Gigi’s arms.
What the hell? Drawing in a slow breath, I stuff one of my hands in my pocket. “Is it possible for us to comb this document together?”
I do not make it a habit to ask my assistant’s permission for anything, but I don’t think I’ve got a choice on this one and getting the job done is more important.
“Have a seat,” Gigi softly replies, her eyes looking anything but certain.
Then she circles back to her chair, Emma still curled into her as she sits.
I push the computer toward her and grab my phone from my pocket. Pulling up the text message box, I text my brothers: Either of you got any chocolate?
Killian immediately responds: I do.
I fire back: I’m at Gigi’s. Can you deliver?
He doesn’t respond, and my leg starts to bounce as I contemplate firing off a surly message, calling him a tease, when a knock sounds on the door.
Gigi all but jumps, her eyes going wide.
Both of them are skittish as hell. A problem I’ll dig into another time.
Right now, I need Emma to relax so I can both use Gigi’s clear skills and gauge her reactions. I need to find out who she is and why she’s here.
“It’s Killian,” I say as I get up, crossing to open the door. He stands on the other side, chocolate in hand.
I reach for it, intending to say my thanks and send him on his way. But Killian’s got other ideas.
He pushes past me, chocolate in hand, a big smile on his face. “M&M would you like some M&Ms?”
I grab the bag from his hand on his way by, even as Emma picks up her head, her eyes starting to sparkle. He’s not taking my bribe.
Which is why I dump a pile of M&Ms into my hand and hold them out.
Emma’s smile slips.
I look at Killian and then at Gigi. She’s smiling back at me, the sort of soft smile that makes my cock twitch.
“Sit,” she softly murmurs. I’d bark back that I’m not a dog, but then again, she might be right. So, I drop down into a squat.
Emma wiggles off her mother’s lap and slowly walks over to me.
“Which is your favorite color?” I ask, extending my hand.
“Blue,” she answers, reaching into my palm and taking a blue one and then popping it into her mouth.
“I like green,” I tell her, taking one for myself, that I toss, catching it in my mouth.
She giggles as she watches then looks down at my hand again. “And yellow,” she says, her brows rising hopefully.
I smile as I push my hand closer still. “Which others do you like?”
She picks them one at a time, naming each color as she goes, moving in closer with every choice. I hold still, letting her tell me about how she wishes they made pink and purple.
“They do make pink and purple Skittles,” I say, just making conversation. In fairness, I don’t think I’ve ever spoken this long to a three-year-old.
“Skittles?” Her eyes light up. “I’d like Skittles.”
Killian lets out a chuckle. “Are those dolls I see, M&M?”
Emma turns to him, candy forgotten, as she reaches for his hand, and pulls him toward the bin tucked under the television.
I watch as my tattooed-covered, hitman brother, begins to put a pink tutu on a blonde haired, blue eyed doll.
Unbelievable.
Then again, I just had an entire conversation about candy.
I look back at Gigi, who is nipping at her lip, her eyes soft and sweet. Speaking of things I’d like to eat…
I head back to the table, shaking off the desire. It’s not that Gigi and I aren’t going to tangle. We are.
She isn’t who she claims, and I intend to use every weapon in my arsenal to find out the truth. But that is a plan for later.
Right now… whoever she is, she can be of use to me.
I sit down, pulling out my own computer, and start copying the lines into a spread sheet, so I can total the amounts. “Keep searching for them, find every instance that Wilson’s is mentioned.”
Gigi nods, pulling her computer back in front of her as she begins to jot down each line on a note pad for me to then pull for the spread sheet.
On the floor, Killian mimics a girl’s voice. “I think we should have a picnic.”
“You can use your trench coat for the blanket,” I mutter.
Gigi laughs softly. “Thank you for giving her the M&Ms.”
“You’re welcome,” I answer, stealing a glance back at the floor. I’m still not sure what happened or how I frightened her, but with Emma in the room, and work to be done, now is not the time to ask.
Later I will talk to my brothers about Gigi and her possible motivations.
But there is little to do but play this all out, as I learn what I can learn.
Still, with my phone on the other side of my laptop, I text Killian: I think you should keep an eye on them. Find out who Gigi talks to and what she does when she’s not in the office.
Killian doesn’t look at me as he picks up his phone and texts back: On it.