Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Ava
Nothing happens after work. Dagen escorts me home and then doesn’t even kiss me goodbye.
Apparently, he had some pressing matter to attend to back at Fox Industries.
Elsie is already home when I get there, so I don’t mourn the loss too badly.
He’d left after telling me that we’d be having a meeting the next morning, so that’s what I look forward to.
By the time Elsie goes to bed, I’m amped up with anxiety.
The house is too quiet and my nerves are on edge.
At first, I try to make a cup of calming tea and relax while I watch a show, but that grows boring fast.
My phone beeps with a notification. I pop it open and stare at the text message that came through.
What’s the matter, Boba_Juliette? You’ve gone through three shows in the last fifteen minutes.
I smile and type out my reply. First, it’s creepy that you know what I’m watching. Second, how the hell did you find my handle from fifteen years ago?
I know everything, he responds, as if that’s not also creepy. What’s wrong?
I sigh and glance up at the camera in the corner of the living room where I know he’s probably watching.
There are a few around the house, only in the shared areas like the living room and the kitchen.
Mostly, they point at the doors, but the one in the corner can turn.
As I look up at it, it turns and looks right at me, so I know he’s watching.
Just. . . anxious, I type out and hit send.
Might I suggest blowing off some steam? His text comes through fast, as if he’d been prepared to send it.
What? Like a glass of wine?
The little text bubbles pop up. I count out the seconds until a single word pops back through.
No.
My chest squeezes. He’s not insinuating what I think he is, is he?
Then what do you mean? I hit send and wait.
You know what I mean, Ava. More bubbles pop up. Go up into your room, lock your door, and release some steam.
My brows shoot up. You’re awfully comfortably telling me that, I fire back.
I know everything about you, he replies. Like the toys in your dresser that you ordered from what I assume is your favorite website. Do me a favor. Use the wand.
My thighs rub together. Wow. That’s. . . hotter than I expected it to be. A man who knows everything about me feels half stalker and half like he cares. Call me insane, but it’s almost. . . sweet. And fuck if him putting in the effort doesn’t do something for me.
I don’t know what to say back, so I just stand, my phone clutched in my hand. The camera follows my movements, but the moment I hit the stairs, it won’t be able to see me anymore. There are no cameras in the bedrooms.
Striding toward the stairs, I feel his eyes on me, on every step I take.
It’s only as I pause on the bottom step that I hesitate.
Should I be doing this? Going up the stairs to do as he told me, to bring myself some relief while he knows what toy I’m using.
He won’t know if I did it or not. He can’t see me.
I could lie. I could just refuse. He’s practically a stranger.
I don’t even know what he looks like. Doing something like this is crazy.
And like I said. . . he wouldn’t even know.
Some rebellious part of me, somewhere deep inside, forms a wicked idea.
I look up at the camera mounted in the corner of the room watching me, but it’s not the only camera in the house.
There’s one on a shelf right beside me, a wireless one that can remain unplugged that’s meant to watch the side window.
It can be unplugged, lose power, and still work.
Dagen had explained it all to me. Carefully, I pick the camera up and show the camera in the corner what’s in my hand, then I continue up the stairs with it cradled between my fingers.
Once in my room, I lock the door and set the camera on the dresser where it has an unobstructed view of the bed.
The moment I set it down, it starts to rotate and move, watching me as I move, and I know he’s there behind it.
I reach into the drawer and pull out the wand. “Is this what you wanted?” I ask out loud.
My phone dings. One word.
Yes.
Knowing I have an audience, I’m conscious of my movements as I slowly climb onto the bed and get into position.
I spread my legs so that my night dress falls down around my hips and stroke my fingers over my underwear.
Without saying a word, I remove them and start to stroke myself, teasing, getting a thrill at being watched through the camera.
He watches me, that red light blinking to let me know he’s connected.
The wand flicks on a few minutes later, and I run it around my clit, driving myself insane, imagining Otto stroking himself to the sight of me doing the same.
It doesn’t take me long to finish, for me to quiver and shake as I bite my lip so I don’t make too much sound.
I’m panting, wishing he was actually here and not just watching through a camera.
What a pretty pussy you have, the text message says. I enjoyed the show.
I smile and run my fingers over the buttons. Next time, maybe it’ll be you between my thighs, I tease back.
The bubbles pop up and take way too long. I wait patiently, watching them, until his reply comes up.
Maybe it will be, the message says. Good night, Boba_Juliette.
Good night, Otto_Bot, I reply, and set the phone on the bedside table before rolling over and falling asleep.
I don’t remember the camera is watching until I wake up the next morning.
When Elsie goes to school the next morning, I settle in and wait about fifteen minutes before the doorbell rings and I’m letting in Dagen and Otto’s robot stand in again.
I don’t know if Dagen just brings the thing with him or what.
I flush as Otto’s face moves in the static, reminding me of what I’d done last night, but I clear my throat and close the door behind them, trying to compose myself.
When I turn back to my living room after locking the door, Wylan is already lounging on the couch, snacking on the chips from my pantry.
I never have any idea how he gets in here, not with the security systems. It must be a game to him.
I roll my eyes at Wylan even as my gaze lingers on Dagen when he walks in.
His eyes seem to do the same with me, leaving me breathless as I’m reminded of our kiss and his promise.
I try to get my bearings before anyone else notices, but Wylan flashes a look at me that says I’m not entirely successful.
Apparently, I’m doomed to be flustered around these three.
“Let me get you something to drink,” I say as everyone takes a seat around the kitchen table. “I have coffee, tea, orange juice—”
“Sit down,” Dagen says, shaking his head. “You don’t have to fuss over us like children.”
I flush brighter at his words, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound that aggressive, but we’re big boys. We don’t need you to get us anything. Besides, Wylan clearly doesn’t have a problem helping himself.”
True to that, Wylan plops down his own freshly brewed cup of tea, the chips still in his hands. He has been in my house long enough to brew tea, apparently. “I’ve eaten out of the kitchens of men I’ve killed, mate. This is hardly that bad.”
I blink. “You do what?”
Wylan glances at me. “Rich bastards have the best food, crumpet. Can’t say no to some expensive tasties, yeah?”
“How the hell have you not been caught yet?” Otto asks from the screen, his mask flickering.
“Because I’m sexy,” Wylan teases. “And good at what I do.”
“So, what are we talking about today?” I ask, bringing the subject back to the matter at hand before I make a fool out of myself.
“Right,” Otto says. “I’m showing all the information I’ve found and we’re going to discuss our next move.”
Dagen leans back in his chair, looking far too expensive for my secondhand kitchen furniture. “Go on.”
“He has a lot of accounts,” Otto begins.
“And he’s not very clever at hiding them, actually.
I’ve found five different accounts in the States.
And three more offshore ones not including the one we drained.
Asset-wise, he’s worth about nine million at this point, but that’s not because of his prowess at business.
Much of the money has been from him skimming off the top of Aria Tech or accepting bribes from other companies. ”
“So, he’s been embezzling money from his own company,” Dagen nods. “That makes sense. The shareholders won’t like that.”
“No, they won’t, not when it’s publicly traded,” Otto agrees.
“Which is how we take him down financially. I’ll shoot the information to the FBI once you give the go ahead, but I can send what I have your way to look over.
His accounts will be frozen pretty quickly once we send it off pending an investigation. ”
“Do it,” I say, jumping the gun, but Dagen shakes his head.
“We should wait until after the gala,” he counters.
“Why?”
“The New York Tech Gala is in a few weeks, which I’m sure Otta has mentioned. It’s a prime opportunity to ruin him socially first,” Dagen offers. “Otto can handle that.”
“Good place to nix him, too,” Wylan adds. “Crowded places and all that.”
I don’t respond, knowing that Wylan is always commenting about killing people, and we’ve already talked about it. We aren’t killing Ric. At least, it’s not in the plan yet. We’re just making sure he won’t mess with me and Elsie again.
“You said nine million?” I ask again, staring into the screen. Despite the mask, I imagine I’m looking into his eyes.
The robot screen shakes a little. “Yes, but that doesn’t include stock market worth. With that included in, he’s worth about ten million. He’s not particularly good at investing. Takes too many risks.”
I press a hand to my forehead. “And he was giving us only a hundred dollars a week for food, for clothing, for all expenses, for gas.”
“He starved you two,” Otto confirms. “For no reason.”
But I shake my head. “Not Elsie. I always made sure Elsie ate.”
But they hear the words I don’t say, that I made do with what was left, and I starved. I’d been sickeningly thin a year ago. I’m not anymore, my body back to the shapely curves I know, but my body still remembers the bone deep hunger that never went away.
“So, we take that money from him,” Otto growls suddenly, anger coming off the screen in waves. “A single tip to the FBI and they’ll fully investigate, especially with this much proof. We send it right after the Tech Gala.”
“Which takes care of finances,” Wylan says as he sips his tea.
He pulls out a small whiteboard and holds it up.
The words “Finances,” “Social Standing,” and “hot bod” are scribbled across it like we’re literally in Mean Girls and this is just a teenage game.
He crosses out the word “finances” with a flare.
I can’t help but smile at it. “What about his social standing?”
“We go to the gala,” Dagen declares. “Otto_Bot hacks into the system and airs all the dirty laundry with a nice little video while we stand in the crowd and watch.”
“Easy enough,” Otto says. “He’s also stolen from most of the people who will be in attendance. They’ll wanna know about that. Besides, the other rich people won’t want the FBI snooping around their own illicit affairs and won’t speak up.”
“Bravo,” Wylan sarcastically claps. “Maybe he’ll wear one of the suits I cut the stitches in, and they’ll come unraveled throughout the night.” He looks at me. “You sure I can’t go kill him yet?”
“No killing,” I reiterate. “We can’t stoop to that level. I’m a mother trying to set a good example.”
He shrugs. “Suit yourself, crumpet. But men like him don’t quit ‘til I put ‘em six feet under.”
Dagen shoots him a look that Wylan doesn’t seem to care about, but I just wave away his words.
It’ll be fine. It’s all gonna be fine. It has to be.