Chapter 5
REGAN
New blouse. Favorite blazer. A pair of matching slacks. I march into the office with my chin held high struggling not to look like I spent half the morning crying in front of the mirror.
Strength, Regan, don’t let them see you hurting.
Everyone at work knows by now. Kieren’s sudden departure was a big deal when it happened, and our breakup must’ve filtered through the office rumor mill by now. I feel eyes on me, judging, maybe empathetic, but mostly curious.
The boss’s daughter brought low.
They probably love that.
I slip into my cubicle in accounting, dump my bag, and log in. Emails are waiting, like always. I toss aside the junk and try to focus on my job.
“Hey, girl.” Kelly pops her head around the corner, her big blue eyes practically swimming with empathy. “How’s it going?”
“Morning, Kell.” I swivel to face her. “I’m fine.”
“You’re fine?”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah? Good?”
I bite my lower lip. “Super good.” I fight back tears.
“Oh, shit.” She comes over and hugs me tight.
Kelly’s my best friend at the office, one of the few female CPAs working for my father.
We’re both in our early 20s, though we didn’t know each other before coming here.
She’s curvy, soft, kind, and a fantastic person, and it takes all my effort not to break down into ugly sobs.
“Seriously, I’m okay.” I extract myself from her hug and she props herself against my cube wall. I find a tissue and dab at my eyes.
“He’s a dick. Seriously, he’s so stupid. I mean, I know I’m not supposed to talk bad about a recent ex in case you two get back together, but—“
“It’s not happening. Just… it’s never happening.”
Sympathy floods her face. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
I take a moment to gather myself before thanking her again. She promises to help with whatever I need, work or otherwise, and disappears back to her cube. I face the company, hands shaking, feeling small and stupid.
I wish I could scream. Smash a computer, break a light, throw a chair through a window. Do something, anything, except for sitting here like an idiot.
Good, nice, follow-the-rules Regan.
Except I’m not, right?
At least, last night I wasn’t.
I still have a faint buzzing headache from drinking, and there’s an ache between my legs.
I don’t want to think about it too much.
Because if I do, I’ll think about how it happened, which leads me to Liam, to his massive dick, to the obscene ways he used my body and the way I relinquished myself to him in a frenzy of physicality and lust.
Nope, no way, don’t go there.
Instead, I spend half the morning doing routine tasks, and the other half considering my situation.
The more I think, the stranger it feels. Questions bubble to the surface, the sort I’d normally ignore. I’ve been good at that, ignoring problematic things. I’m a horse with blinders on, galloping at high speed, most likely straight at a cliff.
But after my run-in with Liam, I can’t help myself anymore.
My father’s a creature of habit. Every day at lunch, he has a single martini. Which means he’s in his best mood around one-thirty when he gets back to his office before the alcohol has worn off.
I make sure I slip past his secretary and I’m waiting for him the second he steps in through that door.
Martin Corrigan’s moderately tall, around six foot.
He’s got snow white hair and has for as long as I can remember.
His blue eyes squint at me, lined with wrinkles from his default disbelieving glare, no hint of happiness at seeing his daughter.
He’s about as Irish as they come. Men like him would’ve struggled to find work outside the docks in this city a hundred years ago.
Now he’s the founder and CEO of one of the most powerful construction firms on the east coast. Progress, I guess.
“Hey, Dad. How was lunch?”
“Too long.” His standard reply. He shuts the door behind him and sits heavily behind his desk. His cheeks are flushed, which means I was right about that martini. “What’s up, Regan? I didn’t know we had a meeting.”
“We didn’t. I’m not here on company business.”
His eyes flick to his computer, already wondering how he can get rid of me. “What’s going on? You okay? You need money?”
I grimace and shake my head. “No, Dad, I don’t need money.”
“Good, that’s good. I hope we’re paying you enough.” He doesn’t laugh. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a joke.
“I want to talk about Kieren.”
I squirm in my seat. He pins me with that look of his, both questioning and probing and deeply unhappy. Most people might think a man would be glad his daughter dropped in to see him, but not Martin Corrigan. At best I’ve been a nuisance, and at worst—
I don’t think about the worst.
“He doesn’t work here anymore.”
I dip my chin. “I know that. I mean, I figured.”
“And I know you two broke up.” He says this firmly, like it’s somehow my fault.
I bet he does blame me, actually. Like if I had been a better partner, somehow Kieren wouldn’t have fucked Vera in our bed.
Like I’m to blame, and I hate that there’s a worm with that idea wriggling through my grey matter, eating my brain to mush.
“What happened with him?” I say, struggling not to sound too weak. “He quit so suddenly.”
Dad checks the computer again. “Not something you need to worry about.”
“Right, but I know something happened—“
His gaze tightens. “And how would you know that, Regan?”
I look down at my lap. I know because I caught Liam searching through Kieren’s car, and that means Kieren did something very wrong.
But this isn’t my place.
I’m supposed to keep my mouth shut. Maybe I see some things, some numbers that look odd, for example, or overhear a conversation back at home that doesn’t sound right.
But no matter what, I let it slide past like a cool breeze, there and gone again, out of my head.
I never mention it. I don’t talk about it, not to anyone, not to my father, not to Kelly, not ever.
My place is to do what I’m told and to shut up about it.
I’m good at that. I’ve had a lifetime of practice. All my instincts scream for me to apologize and get out of his office before I take up more of his precious, valuable time. My father’s an important man, right? And I’m nothing.
Maybe something of the night before still lingers in my spine, because I meet his eyes again, jaw set.
“Kieren left for a reason, didn’t he?”
“We’re done with this conversation. Kieren’s gone, both from the company, and from your life. Move on, Regan. Breakups are hard, but you’ll survive.”
“I want to know what he did, Dad.”
“That isn’t your place.” His tone is edged now. A quiet but real threat. “You know how this works.”
Keep quiet. Do what you’re told.
I hold his gaze. “He’s in trouble, isn’t he? Worse than just cheating on me with Vera Baranov?”
Dad flinches. He seems surprised that I said it out loud, like admitting to what really happened is somehow shocking. He considers me for a long moment, some of his frustration ebbing away, maybe helped on by that stomach full of alcohol.
“Alright, you want to know? Yes, Kieren did something he shouldn’t have. He took some important information before he left. There’s a concern that he might… release it.”
I let that sink in. Dad keeps watching me, and he knows what I know. I work the books, more closely than almost any other CPA at the company. I’ve got more access and trust than other employees at my level, thanks to my name, and my ability to keep my mouth shut.
“What… what did he take?”
Dad swivels to his computer and turns on the monitor. “Frankly, we aren’t sure yet, but it’s being handled. That’s all you need to know, Regan. Please go back to your desk.”
“But wait—“
“I said, this conversation is over. I told you more than I should have, but maybe it will help, knowing Kieren was always an untrustworthy man.”
Another flick of his eyes. Like I should have known from the start.
“Alright, Dad. Thanks for telling me.” I wilt under the stress and slip out of the chair. My head’s pulsing, half from hangover, and half from confusion. Kieren stole from the firm? He took something important… and cheated on me with Vera Baranov?
As I head back to my desk, I feel a sense of vertigo wash over me.
Something big is happening here. Liam in the parking garage… Kieren cheating, Kieren stealing… and the way Dad said it’s being handled.
Oh, shit, what did you do, you stupid asshole?
I shouldn’t be worried about my ex. Whatever happens to him, he deserves it.
But we were together for years. I thought I loved him. No, I definitely did, at least for a while. My life was planned around him, and even though he broke my heart and betrayed me in the worst way possible, I still feel a strange protectiveness toward him.
Because if it’s as bad as I think…
He’s not going to survive the week.