Chapter 21
Phoenix
The heavy doors of Trent's office swing shut behind me with a soft click of expensive hardware.
My phone buzzes. A text from Roni making my breath catch.
Last night replays in my mind. Her dark hair spilling across my lap.
The wet heat of her mouth. The way she looked up at me through those lashes.
Fuck. I adjust my slacks and force myself to focus on the sleek conference table ahead.
Trent's already waiting, his Italian loafers propped on the glass tabletop beside stacks of financial reports.
The prototype for our new digital payment system glows on my laptop screen, a beautiful maze of untraceable transactions which will turn dirty cash into coffee beans and back again without leaving a single footprint for the feds to follow.
I swipe through the presentation, watching Trent's eyes widen at the projected figures. The corner of my mouth twitches as I mentally add another zero to my commission, which I’ll promptly throw at my unfinished construction.
“And what do we do, Phoenix—” Trent leans forward, tapping a manicured finger against the screen, “—if we have more coffee than the chain actually requires at any given point in time?”
I trace my finger across the map I pre-loaded, each touch highlighting a glowing red dot.
“Seventy percent capacity triggers expansion. New franchise. New pipeline. Your clients split costs—” I drag the profit line on my graph down slightly, then watch it rocket upward, “—but the flow never stops.” I zoom out to show the entire U.S.
dotted with potential locations, then pinch outward to reveal North America, then the globe.
“Coffee shops in Toronto. Mexico City. Barcelona. Tokyo.” I tap each city, leaving digital fingerprints across continents.
Trent's trimmed hand rises, then falls against his palm. Again and again. His eyes gleam with the reflected light of all those red dots.
“Evil fucking genius,” he whispers, teeth flashing white against his tan. “Why didn't we—”
“We?” I arch an eyebrow, enjoying the moment as we both let out a full-bellied laugh. “The software wasn't ready before, but now…” I slide my finger across the screen, showing how the digital currency vanishes into the system. “No breadcrumbs. No federal attention. Just profit.”
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket again.
I pull it out, touch the screen, and immediately choke on air when I open a picture from Roni.
She’s down on her knees behind the counter at the coffee shack.
A plunging neckline pulled tight against her breasts.
Her sultry gaze looking up at the camera, with her tongue, dripping with spit.
At least I assume it’s spit. Followed by another brief message.
Roni: Let’s do it again, soon.
“Everything okay, bud?” Trent asks, noticing the sudden crimson creeping up my cheeks. His voice carries a hint of concern as he stands, his shadow stretching across my screen.
“Of course,” I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “Just gagging on my own spit.” The words come out with a forced chuckle, but inside, my stomach churns with unease.
“Ah, hate when that happens. You want some water?” Trent offers, nodding toward the break room down the hall. His gesture is thoughtful, and I try to express appreciation, even though the thought of swallowing anything right now makes my throat tighten.
“No, that's okay. Thanks though.” I wave my hand dismissively, trying to appear at ease. But Trent doesn’t seem to take my refusal seriously. I watch him stride purposefully down the hall, his footsteps silent on the soft carpet.
His departure leaves me alone again, and my mind drifts back to thoughts of Roni.
Her laughter echoes in my head, and I imagine the adventures we could have.
The anticipation of seeing her tonight fills me with a sense of longing.
But first, I have a stop to make at the Abbey—a thought sending a ripple of anxiety through me.
I have no idea how the meeting is going to unfold.
Maybe it’s time to reconsider my involvement in The Sect’s extracurriculars. Perhaps it's wiser to focus solely on the services I’m supposed to provide and steer clear of anything which might complicate things further.
“Here you go, man.” Trent’s voice breaks through my trance, and I look up to see him extending a bottle of water toward me, the plastic cool and damp from the fridge.
I didn’t even notice his return. “You sure you’re okay?
You look like you’re lost in the clouds.
” His brow furrows with concern as he studies my face.
“Yeah, just got a lot on my mind,” I reply, thumb hovering over my phone screen where Roni's message still glows.
Trent leans in, eyes flicking to my phone before I can lock it. “Is it really a lot?” His mouth curls into a knowing smirk. “Or has maybe a little cat got a hold of your favorite strings?”
“Where do you come up with this shit?” I slide my phone into my pocket, but my fingers linger there, reluctant to break contact. “You know that’s not an actual metaphor, right?”
“You know what I mean.” He circles the table, clapping my shoulder. “You got a new lady friend that gives it to you just right.”
My chest tightens at his words. I picture Roni's face when she sleeps. The small wrinkle her nose when she’s dreaming. How she hums when she brushes her teeth.
Trent studies me, then whistles low. “Damn. You're already a goner, man.”
I tap my laptop closed and slide it into my bag. “Timeline's six weeks. You'll need the coffee inventory ready when the money starts flowing.”
Trent leans back, his chair creaking beneath his weight. His gold cufflinks catch the light as he steeples his fingers. “My suppliers are standing by. One call, and those warehouses fill up.”
I check my watch and stand. “I'll be back before launch. You'll get at least two days’ notice.” My phone buzzes again in my pocket, but I resist the urge to look.
Trent rises, extending his hand. His grip is dry and firm. “When you see Clark,” he says, lowering his voice to a whisper, “remind that snobby fuck I've got my eye on the tall blonde at next month's event.”