Chapter 31
Pepper: Roger that.
Chase: I wish it was a guy thing to have sleepovers.
Sunny: How come?
Chase: They just seem fun.
Pepper: The painting your nails part, or braiding each other’s hair?
Chase: All of the above.
CHASE
“It’s not her,” he grumbles, following me into a glass-walled boardroom on the top floor of the Dev Ops building.
“How can you be sure?” I throw over my shoulder, holding the door open for him to follow.
“I just can.”
He doesn’t want to talk about this, that much is obvious.
He’s spent three days brooding, and he keeps coming back to the same thing.
He doesn’t think Evelyn would do this to him.
He “knows it in his bones,” apparently. I don’t share that conviction, and for that reason he’s stopped trying to explain it to me.
I sigh, turning and capping my hips with my hands. “Fine, so I say that we spend today brainstorming. There must be something we’ve missed.”
His attention drifts over my head to the row of cream-filled pies laid out neatly on the boardroom table.
“What’s with all the pies?” A crease appears between his eyebrows.
“Sarah in accounts is having a leaving party and the bakery messed up the order, so instead of three pies we have thirty three.” I feel myself grin, unable to help it, and he narrows his eyes when he sees.
“How do you know Sarah in accounts?”
“People like me.” I offer by way of explanation, shrugging one shoulder.
He frowns. “What are you up to?”
“Well,” I start slowly as I begin to trace a path along the edge of the long table. “Since you seem determined to distract me anytime I try and work on the case these past few days…” I pause to shoot him a sharp glare.
He grins sheepishly, guilty as charged. Not that I mind too much when his distraction technique is to see how many times he can make me come in a row. So far, our running record is seven before I tap the fuck out.
“We’re going to play a little game called Pig Pie.” I stalk back toward him and pick up the pie closest, propping it up in one hand above my shoulder like a pro waiter balancing a tray of drinks. “Every time you say something piggish, you get a pie to the face.”
He surveys the row of pies, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t know whether to be proud or offended that you bought so many pies for this game.”
“Option two. It should definitely be option two,” I deadpan, fighting to keep my face straight at the look of exasperation on his face.
He scratches the back of his head. “Okay fine, but can I please just get one obvious one out before we start, because I’ll combust otherwise?”
“Be my guest,” I agree innocently, sidling an inch closer.
“Well, only to say that if you wanted a cream pie, you just had to ask.” He slips his hands into his pockets, smirking at me with those thick corded forearms visible beneath rolled white shirt sleeves.
I let out a little sigh, reaching up on my tiptoes and slamming the pie square into his unsuspecting face. He scrunches his eyes shut just in time and stands stunned for a second as the pie slips off and lands on the floor with a wet splat.
I clap a hand to my mouth, wondering if I’ve taken it a step too far as he spits out banana pudding, his face wholly covered in cream, sticking up in the front of his hair and dripping onto his shirt.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” He swipes clumps of cream out of his eyes, and I lose control when his face resembles a smiley fry.
“I tried to warn you!” I laugh, dancing back as he flicks a splodge of cream my way.
“You said I could get one in before we started!” He raised an eyebrow and a drop of cream splays directly onto one shiny dress shoe.
“I changed my mind.” I shrug, picking up a few napkins off the table and handing them to him—having had the foresight to grab a large pile.
He swipes them from me, starting to wipe the bulk of the cream off, grumbling something that definitely includes the words, “pain in my ass.”
I hop up onto the boardroom table, plucking a plastic spoon out of the bakery bag and flipping open a new pie tray.
“So we know the organization responsible are working from inside your company.” I hold one finger up at him and use my other hand to scoop up a spoonful of pie.
“We know they are connected enough to have safehouses.” I hold up another finger and then pop the pie filling into my mouth.
“We know they have the contacts to create high-quality forged documents,” Chase adds, coming to lean back on the table next to me, cream still stuck in his eyebrow and around his hairline.
I nod, making a low noise of appreciation. God damn, these pies are good. Almost too good to be wasted by getting smashed into his face…almost.
“We know that they have turned some of your employees into double agents.” I scoop up another spoonful and then squeak when a large hand plucks the spoon from mine.
“And we know someone’s using Evelyn’s name as a coverup.” He eats the pie, and watches me roll my eyes with a blank expression.
I chew the inside of my cheek, going over everything we’ve discovered so far. I can’t see any other way forward, other than to speak to Evelyn. But since that option is not on the table, I have no fucking idea where to go from here.
“Ugh, this is so annoying!” I throw my hands up, gripping the edge of the table and leaning forward to stare at the navy carpet.
A large hand lands softly on the back of my neck, stroking the baby hairs that escape my claw clip. “May I offer you a shoulder to rest your legs on in these trying times?”
I snort out a laugh, hearing the smile on his face without even looking. Strike two. I pick the pie we’re eating out of the tray and turn to face him.
“Don’t you dare,” he warns, his grip on my neck turning tight.
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll give you one back.”
We stay deadlocked for a second, and I decide that it’s worth the risk, smushing the pie into his face for a second time.
The glass door at one end of the boardroom behind him opens as I draw the pie back, and a beautiful woman with dark hair that I recognize stands there grinning. “Aw, I feel bad for him…do it again!”
“Mother fucker!” Chase’s head jerks, and he splutters pie from his mouth, using a broad hand to scrape off a layer of cream and letting it fall to the floor. He turns to look at his sister, all the while resembling some rare cream-striped zebra. “Where have you been?”
“Not in the right place, apparently.” She lifts one expertly curated eyebrow and walks into the room in a swish of deep burgundy patent leather.
The long coat is artistically cut and frames a black bodysuit that hugs her slim figure, the whole thing completed with black high-heeled stiletto boots. “Can I have a go?”
She’s fucking cool, there is no doubt about it, and suddenly I feel nervous to meet her, considering I’m screwing her brother. If these are the kind of polished women he grew up around, what the hell does he see in me?
“Help yourself.” I gesture to the row of pies still left.
“No, don’t help yourself, this isn’t a fairground attraction!” Chase stands, grabbing more of the napkins and pawing at his face fruitlessly—the cream that lives there is now too thick and dried at the edges to be fully removed without a showerhead.
“It should be, it was remarkably fun,” I point out, grinning when he glares at me.
“Emily,” the glamorous woman offers, sticking out her hand in my direction.
“Pepper.” I grin, taking her manicured hand and shaking it.
“I see you’ve discovered how fun it is to wind up my brother.” She flicks warm sky-blue eyes his way as she drops my hand and picks up a pie.
“Hey, you can’t just waltz in here and start throwing pies around!” Chase looks at the both of us like we’re lining up candles in a circle to perform witchcraft. “I’m in charge around here.”
“Oh brother, you’re not as important as you think you are,” Emily drawls in a magnificent impression of the tall man in an expensive suit splattered with pie.
“The work we do here saves American lives, I’ll have you know.” He huffs, attempting to wipe away the cream that sits just inside his ear.
“Yeah, but—” Emily scrunches her face and points at him. “You’re a man, so the two kind of cancel each other out.”
I bark out a surprised laugh, deciding that I like this woman a lot. I get an icy glare from Chase in return, but I just smile. He gives off the resigned air of a man who is well versed in being ganged up on by the women in his life.
“Right, that’s it.” Chase steps around me and scoops up a fresh pie in each hand.
My eyes flare wide, and I slip off the table and start to back away.
“Oh shit, this coat is only on loan from Balmain,” Emily moans at my side, also backing slowly away.
“I’d suggest you both start running…now.”
***
“All I’m saying is that someone at this table is annoying, and it isn’t me.” Emily throws pointed daggers at her brother, who sits back in the corner booth with one arm lying casually across the top of the red leather seating, looking all too smug.
Emily and I both sit with dried cream in our hair, and banana pudding staining our clothes, having been royally outpaced by the athletic billionaire sitting next to me.
“Honestly, Terrence,” Chase drawls, rolling his shoulders. “These girls start fights they can’t win, and then complain about it.”
“Can you invite me next time you have a food fight, please?” Sunny tips her face up on Chase’s other side and grins at him.
“You’ll be the first person I call,” he promises, returning her smile and ruffling her freshly dyed hot pink hair.
The back of my neck heats at the sight of their easy camaraderie, something warm flip-flopping inside my chest.
“You remind me of my late wife.”
We all turn to see Mr. Clay surveying Emily wistfully, the corners of his eyes crinkled.
Emily raises eyebrows that have dried cream in them. “Then you were a very lucky man indeed.”
He offers her a smile bigger than I’ve ever seen on him. “Won’t argue with you there.”