Chapter 10 Sebastian
Sebastian
“You gonna stay in your office all week?” Ethan asked as he walked in and dropped onto my couch like it was his space instead of mine.
I turned in my chair, though I’d rather keep staring out the damn window. “What the hell do you want?”
It had already been a shit morning, and he wasn’t helping.
My phone beeped. I hit the call button, not bothering with a greeting.
“Mr. Reid, I have that information you requested.”
“It’s not doing any good out there, is it?” I snapped, and the line went dead. Perfect. Just fucking perfect.
Ethan leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You should have come with us this weekend.”
I ignored him. Saturday still haunted me, and I couldn’t stop picturing her in my arms. Replaying each moment every time I closed my eyes.
The way she’d collapsed into me when I released her restraints.
I held her as her body trembled and we both dropped to the floor.
I’d been so hard it hurt, every muscle begging to bury myself inside her.
But I needed her to want it. To come back to me.
“Mr. Reid.”
Mira popped her head in first, then strolled in with her ballerina flats, long skirt, and soft blouse.
She looked more like she belonged in a quiet library than the top floor of a corporate security firm, but yet, here she was.
She handed me a thick vanilla file folder and I fought the urge to reach out and caress the small tattoo on her wrist.
“Have you gone through it?” I asked, flipping open the file. Rows of numbers glared back. Fucking numbers. I gestured sharply toward the door. “Close it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The word shot straight through me. My cock twitched. Damn it to hell.
She turned on her heel and started out the door.
“Ms. Rhodes.” I cleared my throat.
She paused, her brow lifting slightly.
“Shut the door and have a seat.”
“Oh.” She looked between Ethan and me before she complied.
“What did you find?”
“I’m an analyst, not an accountant,” she said softly but with that quiet confidence of hers that had become impossible to ignore.
Ethan smirked across from me. He wasn’t subtle about enjoying the show.
Mira sat in the chair, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Every part of her posture was professional, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers itched to play with something to help calm her nerves.
I flipped through page after page of columns, debits, transfers. “Not an accountant?” I asked, glancing up just as a loose strand of hair slipped free from her bun.
“No, Sir,” she said with a small huff. “But I’m not stupid. I can read patterns. The numbers don’t match up. Someone’s moving assets off the books.”
That caught my attention as I scanned the highlighted numbers on the last few pages.
“And you’re certain?”
She nodded. “Eighty-percent probability, based on what I could verify.”
Ethan let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “That’s bad. How much are we talking?”
Mira glanced at him, then back at me. “Individually, the transfers are small—thirty thousand here, fifty there. But the pattern is consistent. Same shell vendors, same routing structure. If it continues at this pace, you’re looking at close to two million siphoned out by year’s end.”
Ethan exhaled sharply, half laugh, half panic. “Christ.”
I didn’t look at him. My focus stayed locked on her.
It shouldn’t have been this hard to concentrate. Not after everything I’d done to compartmentalize. But all I could think about was Saturday night—how she’d melted into me when I held her, the way she’d trembled while I rubbed her back and helped her sip the water I held up to her lips.
I’d hated handing the rest of her aftercare off to Vivienne’s girls, but keeping the blindfold on had been the right call. The only call.
Working side-by-side with her this week had been hell. No wonder I’d barricaded myself in my office.
“How long has it been happening?” I asked.
“Six months, maybe more. Whoever’s behind it knows the audit schedules. Every transfer happens just before a quarterly reconciliation, then disappears into the standard expense flow.”
She hesitated. “They know our system. They know you.”
I closed the folder slowly, leaning back in my chair. “Do you have names?”
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
She’d spent a good part of the week looking for stuff out of the ordinary.
“What tipped you off?” Ethan asked.
“I like puzzles.” She smiled. “Look through our vendor list.” She gestured at the folder. I leaned forward and flipped through the first pages again.
“What am I looking for?”
“Quantum Forge Systems.”
I raised a brow. “And?”
Ethan stood and walked over next to me, reading over my shoulder. “We haven’t used that company for eighteen months.”
I flipped a few more pages, scanning the vendor log. Quantum Forge. The name hit a nerve.
“They handled our firewall setup when we first launched. But that’s all in-house now.” Ethan exhaled behind me.
I ran my hand over the scruff on my jaw. “We terminated that contract and hired our own team.” I glance up at her. “Why are we still paying them?”
Mira didn’t flinch. “I’m not sure. According to their records, Quantum Forge went out of business last year.” She tapped the page. “But the payments haven’t stopped. They’re just being rerouted. Different accounts. Same amounts.”
The air in the room shifted. Ethan straightened, crossing his arms. “You’re saying someone’s keeping a ghost company alive to move money?”
“Exactly.”
I stood, letting the silence stretch. “This doesn’t leave this room. If anyone starts asking questions—anyone—I want to know immediately.”
Mira stood. “Understood, Sir.”
Ethan smiled at her, and something sharp twisted through me. I wanted to knock the look off his face.
“Thank you, Ms. Rhodes.”
She turned to leave. I didn’t mean to watch her walk away, but I did—every sway of her skirt, every controlled step. A skirt meant to hide her, though now I knew far too much about what it concealed.
And for one dangerous second, I wondered if she still carried any marks from that night.
If she remembered them.
The door clicked shut.
Ethan gave a low whistle. “You know that’s a bad idea, right?”
I didn’t answer. Not immediately. I circled to the front of the desk and leaned back against it, arms crossed, watching the door, wishing Ethan wasn’t here and she was.
“She’s good,” Ethan went on. “Sharp. But getting involved with her? That’s asking for trouble.”
“She works for me,” I said.
“Exactly my point. It would be messy, not to mention the HR nightmare.”
I finally looked at him. “You think I don’t know that?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think you know it better than anyone. Doesn’t mean you’ll listen.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d built my career, my company, my reputation on control—discipline so precise it bordered on obsession. But Mira Rhodes had stepped into my office and dismantled all of it with one look. One sound. One soft, defiant Sir.
“Not my type.” I muttered, turning back toward my desk.
I turned around and moved back to my chair.
Ethan snorted as he stood. “Yeah,” he said, hand on the door, eyes full of smug understanding. “A girl like that calling you Sir. Definitely not your type.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and for a long moment, I didn’t move.
Because he was right.
And that was the problem.
How many sessions would it take to get her out of my system? Before I didn’t think of her bent over my desk with my handprint on her ass.