Beast Business

Chapter 1

“As you know, Maria, the current state of the economy requires our company to develop agility in an effort to meet the rapidly changing realities of the marketplace.”

The HR manager smiled, her hand resting on a black folder with FINERGY etched in gold on it.

She was in her forties. Her makeup had been applied with technical precision.

Her acrylic nails, translucent pink and of a professionally acceptable length, bore small white Easter eggs as a nod to the holiday season.

A rose quartz necklace dripped from her neck, each bead polished, matching the nails and the nearly transparent pink frames of her eyeglasses.

She seemed plastic, having been poured into a corporate mold, allowed to harden, extracted, polished, and then placed in the conference room, with her rigid smile and by-the-book hair. A kind of generic mass-produced middle manager.

The two men sitting on either side of her had come from the same factory and wore identical expressions of dutiful concern for the office drone they were about to cut loose. A united front, in case there were issues.

“In light of these developments, we’ve had to make some difficult decisions.”

The corporate we. Fun thing about polished plastic—it tended to be slick. Nothing stuck to it, responsibility included.

“We’ve decided to go in a different direction, Maria.”

First name basis, designed to provide the illusion of a caring professional relationship. We are all family here. Surely you understand. Nothing personal, Maria.

“You’ve been an asset to our team; however, we must reduce our overhead obligations.”

You are not a person, Maria. This was badly handled. Painfully drawn out, full of empty platitudes. Just abysmal.

“We’ve chosen to let you go.”

Finally.

“Try not to see this as a setback, but rather a new opportunity to learn lessons and apply them in your future endeavors.”

No, not just badly handled. Gloriously badly handled, as if they had made it a point to check every box of what not to do when firing an employee. Now tell me you will walk me to the door…

“Cory will walk you to the door.”

And we have a home run.

“Good luck, Maria. We are rooting for you.”

The temptation to golf clap was almost too much, but it would’ve been irresponsible under the circumstances. Arrangements like these came with certain expectations, and they had to be honored.

The box they offered was too large for the meager possessions living on the desk.

Sweeping them into the box under Cory’s watchful gaze took mere seconds.

An elevator ride followed, the mirror inside offering a reflection of Cory, stone-faced in a Brooks Brothers suit, looming over a woman in her thirties, olive-skinned, dark hair cut into a bob, a blouse from Torrid a size too large, the consequence of stress-induced weight loss. Quite the contrast.

The trek across a wide lobby was next, complete with pitying glances from former co-workers, at once sympathetic and wary, as if instead of a defeated woman in business attire they had spied a leper in filthy rags and worried the disease might spread.

The glass doors of Callas Tower swung open, offering freedom and overcast daylight. Cory walked out and planted himself in front of the door, ready to put his life on the line to protect the firm’s secrets in case the ex-employee decided to assault the building.

Too little, too late.

It was time for a dejected walk down the street and out of sight.

The city was going about its business, oblivious to the small tragedies of firings in the name of corporate agility. Thick grey clouds clogged the sky, promising prompt rain, common to Houston in April.

A gunmetal-grey BMW SUV slid closer to the curb, its electric motor nearly silent, and the rear passenger window slid down, revealing a woman’s face.

She was beautiful in a quiet way. Light brown eyes, flecked with gold and framed by naturally long eyelashes.

A lovely face. Chestnut hair, braided in a kind of updo that would have been too soft and romantic for the HR trio in the conference room.

Diana Harrison, Prime and the head of House Harrison. She’d cut her hair and changed her hair color. It suited her better. Her usual icy blonde always felt soulless somehow. Too cold.

Diana tilted her head. “May I offer you a ride?”

“Do we know each other?”

She smiled without parting her lips. “Not closely, but it’s about to rain and your office is at least twenty minutes away.”

Oh. She knew. How?

There was no point in playing coy. “In that case, thank you. I’ll join you.”

A driver emerged, took the box, and opened the back door on the other side. Getting in took only a moment. A large red Doberman sat in the front passenger seat, strapped in by some strange seatbelt contraption, her gaze alert and watchful.

The dog could’ve picked up the scent and alerted, but not through a closed window. How had Diana known?

The car slid back into traffic.

Letting go was like a light, imaginary stretch. A brief effort, followed by a slight lessening of the load.

Gone was the olive skin, the short dark bob, the blouse, and the utilitarian black slacks.

He was tall again, his regular persona firmly in place, familiar like an old glove.

His true self still remained hidden, yet the new illusion was a tweak rather than an entirely new disguise.

Like taking off a sweater but keeping the T-shirt on.

He stretched for real this time, working a kink out of his shoulders. The hunched posture had taken a bit of a toll.

He hadn’t needed to slouch, strictly speaking, but he always found that his illusions flowed better when he allowed himself to fully submerge into his assumed identity.

After that barrage, most people in Maria’s place would have either stormed out defiantly or braced themselves, as if expecting to be punched.

Storming out wouldn’t have achieved his goals.

Diana watched him with genuine fascination. He’d seen that reaction so many times that he should’ve been used to it by now, but coming from her it felt refreshing.

“A moment?”

Diana nodded.

He pulled his cell phone out of his Zegna suit and selected his second-in-command from the contact list.

Zachary answered instantly. “Here.”

“Dump FINERGY.”

“Understood.”

He ended the call, tossed one long leg over the other, and smiled.

“I believe I will dump FINERGY as well,” Diana said.

“Professionally, no comment. Personally, off the record, I highly recommend it. They are engaged in cybersecurity fraud. The latest crop of drones they brought to the market and sold to multiple law enforcement agencies has severe software issues. Allegedly.”

“How severe?”

“A child with a LeapFrog tablet could hack one. They just fired the specialist who brought the problem to their attention two months ago.”

“You assumed her identity?”

He nodded. The scale of the fraud was massive enough that the real Maria’s safety was a concern.

He’d spent the last week dutifully going to the office in her place.

Normally, he would’ve sent one of his subordinates, but his House’s investment in FINERGY was considerable, and he had wanted to assess the state of things for himself.

Diana tapped her phone.

Tomorrow one of the biggest law firms in Houston would file the qui tam lawsuit against FINERGY, alleging violations of the False Claims Act, and Maria would become one of the most famous whistleblowers on record.

If the government chose to join the suit, she would be entitled to about twenty percent of recovered damages.

Considering the extent of FINERGY’s transgressions, she wouldn’t have to worry about finding a new job for some time.

Diana finished and put her phone down. “Now I’m in your debt, Prime Montgomery.”

“Not at all. We never spoke of this.” He slid his glasses a little higher on his nose. “Please, call me Augustine. Now then, what can Montogomery International Investigations do for House Harrison?”

Diana hesitated. It was very brief, but he’d been trained to observe people carefully, noting minute changes in expression.

“I want to hire you.”

“Me specifically or MII in general?”

“Both.”

Intriguing. “In what capacity?”

Another slight hesitation. There was something deceptively delicate about Diana.

She was a small woman, short and petite.

The contours of her face were soft, her features classically attractive: large, beautiful eyes, a small, slightly upturned nose, a full mouth with a bare hint of pink lipstick.

She looked as if she were teetering on the edge, torn between wanting to keep her secret and asking for help.

She could’ve played a princess in a medieval drama, the kind who had suffered an injustice and needed a strong ally.

The kind who would inspire the audience to root for her.

It was a front. Augustine was absolutely sure of it. If he became an enemy, Diana Harrison would attempt to kill him without a moment’s hesitation. She was trying to entice him to help her and make her request a priority, and she was very subtle about it.

Common wisdom held that animal mages didn’t understand human emotions.

They formed bonds with animals through the power of their magic, and that process fundamentally altered their thinking, stunting their emotional development and making their interactions with other people difficult.

Interacting with Cornelius, Diana’s brother, had convinced Augustine that there were exceptions to that rule.

Apparently, Diana was cut from the same cloth.