Chapter 26
Alexander
I treat myself to a good whiskey in the club's lounge. There are many men here tonight—familiar faces not just from the media, but also from the real estate and corporate sectors.
Cornelius Grey has surely founded a very exclusive club here. I've already had several interesting conversations and made some good networking. Coming tonight was a good idea—especially since I got my eye on one of the servers, whose hip swaying is extraordinarily appealing.
“Mariella,” says a voice next to me. I glance over and see a man I don’t know. I’d guess he’s in his late thirties, early forties. “She’s a real wildcat in bed and is up for a lot.” He sits down beside me and raises his glass in a toast. “But with the right tip, she can be tamed.”
I lift my glass too, but I don’t comment on his remark.
“Alexander Blackthorn, right?”
“And who do I have the honor of speaking with?” I shoot back immediately.
His cold smile makes it obvious he’s a very stern man, and probably not here just for pleasure.
“Matthias Volt,” he answers curtly. The name, of course, rings a bell right away—the owner of Volt Security himself.
"Out without security?"
“They’re waiting downstairs,” he replies. “It definitely has its advantages not always being in the spotlight.”
True.
I’d never actually known what he looked like. Dark hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones, clean-shaven, dark eyes. His hands look strong, and his gaze is icy. I once heard he has ties to various mafia organizations. Probably necessary if you’re in the security business.
"I'm not approaching you entirely without ulterior motives," he says.
“I figured as much,” I reply. Hopefully he’s not about to try and sell me bodyguards. I’ve never needed them, not even back in the States.
“How satisfied are you with London Waverley?” I’m genuinely taken aback when he mentions her name.
“Why do you ask?” I ask.
Why is he of all people bringing up London?
"Because she applied for a position with me." He laughs and adds, “Judging from the look on your face, you didn’t know that.”
“She’s my PA,” I answer curtly, buying myself some time to think. “When did she apply? She’s still in her probation period.”
“She worked for your father for three years before that, didn’t she?”
“Correct. But after the change in ownership, she signed a new contract.”
“Doesn’t sound too good. So, your father wasn’t happy with her?”
“Not at all. She’s outstanding.”
“And yet she applied to me two weeks ago.”
Two weeks ago? That must’ve been the very evening we were at the boxing club.
“I like her. I wouldn’t mind having an attractive assistant at my side, who serves me in all aspects of life. She's surely open for that, isn't she?"
“She’ll soon be getting a permanent contract with a raise, since I have no intention of letting her go.”
“She seemed very serious about her application, and she didn’t strike me as someone who wants to stay with you.”
I don't like this.
“I’ll talk to her.”
"Not a good idea. You surely know that everything discussed here in the club must remain between us?" He smiles mysteriously.
"So, you only approached me to tell me that I've lost her?"
He smiles coldly and then stands up.
“Here’s a small olive branch: I’ll be interviewing her next Friday. You can sit in.”
I rise as well.
“And why would I do that?”
"I work with many entrepreneurs whom I bring in as advisors for important conversations. And someone with your experience could certainly be useful to me in figuring out how serious she is about the new job."
My brow furrows. What the hell is this guy up to?
"This is a purely friendly offer. I could’ve kept it to myself, but I think we men need to stick together.
” He chuckles and clinks his glass against mine.
“Besides, I saw your face. You’re jealous.
So, she means something to you.” He hands me his card.
“Reach out Friday. I’ll give you the time and place I’m meeting her. ”
Before I can respond, he walks away and leaves me standing there. But even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t know what to say.
A truly lucrative tempting offer. But that’s how it is when you deal with the devil—his offers are always enticing. The price you end up paying for your greed, though, may be far too high.
That evening, I use my father’s limo service since I’ve had one too many whiskeys and don’t trust myself to drive. The soundproof partition is up, so the driver can’t overhear while I talk to Marc on the phone.
“So, what do you think?” I ask him.
“Honestly? Fire her. Immediately.” Harsh words from my best friend. “You need employees who are loyal, and she clearly isn’t.”
“Mh …” I start pondering.
“Have you thought about my offer?” he asks.
“I have. It would actually make a lot of things easier, and I’d really like to move back to the States.” I take a deep breath.
“I’d find another PA if I get your position.”
It would be perfect—I could live and work in the U.S. again, my entire team wouldn’t have to relocate, and Marc would finally get the chance to run a big company under my supervision. I’d just have to fly to London once a month to handle the most important matters.
“Actually, you need her. London does an excellent job. If you take over, it's only under the condition that she stays."
“Okay. If that’s what you want, I agree to that.”
That was quick.
“I’ll meet with my team a week from Monday, but first I need to talk to London.”
“You really want to go through with this? Just offer her a raise and tell her you’re leaving. I think she only applied somewhere else because she doesn’t want to work with you anymore. If you tell her you’re moving back to the States, she’ll probably be happy to stay.”
“And you’d be fine working with her?”
“Of course.”
“A minute ago you wanted me to fire her.”
“Yeah, because I thought you weren’t okay with her applying elsewhere. But if you’re fine with it, then so am I.”
Very accommodating of him. Stephanie calls me. Now, of all times.
"Okay, I’m almost home. We’ll talk again next week. I’ll be in touch."
"Alright. Bye."
Now I can take Stephanie’s call. I’m really not in the headspace for this, but she’s tried several times today, and I’ve ignored her every time.
"Hey, sorry. I’ve been out all day," I answer.
"Oh man, finally..." she complains, but then says: "It's good to hear your voice. Phew. I really need to tell you something." She sounds completely distraught, sobbing and crying.
"Hey, what’s going on?" I can’t remember the last time I heard her cry. It must have been when we were kids.
“Marc said that he has more important things to do now than take care of his family. The company comes first. He really wants your job.”
“I know. I've offered it to him and he's considering accepting it.”
“But... I'm pregnant.” She cries bitterly.
"You’re pregnant?"
Usually good news, but seeing how desperate she sounds, I probably shouldn't congratulate her.
"Please. You need to stay, Alex. Don’t leave me alone now, please!"
"Why would Marc not have time for you anymore? Does he know you’re pregnant?"
"Yes, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to bury himself in work. Please... if you stay, if he doesn’t get the position, then... then we still have a chance. I think our marriage is already doomed!"
"Take it easy. I think Marc just phrased things poorly. Of course it will take time for him to prepare for the position, but he’ll always take care of you. He loves you. I know that. One hundred percent."
"I need you here in London," she whispers, choked with tears.
"I can’t promise that, Stephanie." I need to think about myself and my future. "You’re married, expecting a child. He doesn’t want this career just for himself, but for you too. Marc told me very clearly he wants to impress you with it."
"I can’t make it here without you, Alex."
I can barely understand her anymore.
"Please calm down first, okay? I haven’t decided anything yet." If she gets too upset, it could be bad for her. "It was just an idea, nothing more."
"Please stay. Promise me!"
"I’ll stay for now. Promise. Nothing’s in writing yet. It will certainly take a few months until we've agreed on everything and finish planning.
"When will we see each other again?" she asks.
"Soon. There’s a lot going on right now. But I’ll come to your place next weekend. Marc wanted to fire up the grill. Doesn’t that sound good?"
Maybe that will cheer her up.
"I could come by for a visit? Last time we had lunch together was really nice, wasn’t it?"
Yep, those are hormones. Definitely.
"I always have time for you."
"Then I’ll come by on Monday." Just like that, her tears dry.
"Okay. Then Monday. 12:30?"
"Yeah, I’m looking forward to it!"
Everything's fine again.
"I’m home now. See you Monday."
"Great! See you Monday!"
There’s no trace of crying in her voice now.
That’s settled. But I should talk to Marc.
Why on earth would he want to leave Stephanie alone during her pregnancy?
This isn’t like him at all. I hope the prospect of the new position isn't going to his head.
That's not what I want, and not what my father would approve of either.
After all, it will take quite a bit of persuasion from both of us to convince my father that Marc is a worthy successor.
After the driver drops me off, I call Marc again while I prepare myself a cup of tea since I can't go to sleep just yet.
"Hey, forget something?" he says.
"Yes, actually. Where are you right now?"
"Still out."
"Stephanie just called me. Should I offer congratulations?"
"Yes, of course..."
A father-to-be should sound more excited than this. The two of them are clearly fighting. Let’s see if I can help, even if I probably shouldn’t.
"What’s going on with you two?"
"What do you mean?"
"She’s pregnant. You’re going to be a father. Neither of you sounds happy."
"It’s complicated, but it’ll work out."
"Can I help?"
"No, we’ll manage. But thanks." Marc sounds exhausted and distant. This isn't like him at all. There really seems to be something seriously wrong between them.
"Stephanie sounded very upset."
"You don’t need to worry. It’s just hormones," he assures me. "I’ll be home soon, then I’ll take care of her."
"Okay. But if anything’s wrong, you’ll let me know?"
"I will."
I sit in my living room until late, drinking tea, and reading. What a mess.
Back in the States, life wasn’t nearly this stressful.
On Monday, I head to the office as usual. London sits at her desk, greets me warmly, and immediately offers me coffee.
Sitting at my desk, I sort through documents then unlock the safe. Inside lies the USB drive—my key to success. This software will revolutionize the tech world. This is what I've been working on all these years!
I look at this small, inconspicuous item and plug it into the laptop. I want to grant myself one more test phase before I join the group call with my team. But when I insert the drive, it's empty. No data found. What the hell?
I pull it out, plug it back in. Still nothing. Maybe the laptop is defective? I try another. Then my tablet, with an adapter. But the drive seems to be empty!
This USB drive looks very similar to mine. Only someone who knows me well would know that I use this brand.
I suspect that someone has stolen it. I slowly sit down, look at the empty device, and start to ponder.
The data was still there on Friday. Of course, the stick only contains copies—but even those are enough to satisfy the competition.
Another company similar to mine would easily pay twenty–thirty million for it.
The only question is who had the opportunity to get hold of the stick. I try to remember when I last used it: it was shortly before Marc arrived. I showed him the stick, put it on the table, and made a phone call.
But what happened then?
There's a knock at the door. "Come in," I call.
London enters and sets my coffee on the desk.
"Do you need anything else?" she asks.
In that instant, it clicks. It could only have been her.
"No. Thank you very much." I observe her. She nods politely and leaves.
She betrayed me. She took a copy of the software and all my data. That’s why she’s looking for a new job. That’s why she wants to leave.
Is that why she also wanted to clean my place? So she could snoop around my home?
I breathe deeply and try to stay calm. If I act hastily now, I won't get the information I need. She must have kept the USB drive in a safe place or has already sold it. I have no evidence whatsoever.
Well, not yet anyway.