17. Todd
TODD
Isat at the small desk in Cici's hotel room, staring at her laptop screen.
None of it made sense.
The files weren't random.
They weren't the kind of documents someone accidentally copied onto a flash drive.
Acquisition reports.
Valuation models.
Executive travel schedules.
Private flight manifests.
Sensitive information from my consulting firm.
The kind of information that never should have left our internal servers.
I clicked through another file.
Then another.
My stomach sank.
Several of the documents had access histories attached to them.
Downloaded.
Opened.
Viewed multiple times.
Some of the dates stretched back months.
Long before Cici had ever stepped foot on my aircraft.
Long before she had met me.
Long before that night in Aspen.
I leaned back in the chair.
What the hell?
The bathroom door opened.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Cici stepped into the room wearing a pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt. Her damp blonde hair hung over one shoulder.
She looked exhausted and confused.
"Anything?" she asked quietly.
I shook my head.
"Nothing that makes sense. When did you first see this USB?"
She crossed her arms. "Just today. It wasn't in there when I took out my laptop. I definitely would've seen it."
My eyes met hers.
A long pause.
"You don't think I put those files there, do you?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly.
Because I didn't.
If she had been involved, she wouldn't have handed me the laptop.
She wouldn't have opened the files in front of me, and she wouldn't have looked as shocked as she had, but there were still too many questions. Questions I didn't have answers for.
"Then how did they get there?" she asked.
"I don't know."
And that bothered me more than anything.
I knew where the files came from. I knew what they were. What I couldn't understand was how they ended up on her computer.
A thought hit me. Not for the first time. But this time it landed harder.
Somebody entered her hotel room at some point. The realization settled heavily over me.
I had spent years assessing risk. In the military. In my business. Most people focused on the information. I focused on access and someone clearly had access.
That was the problem. It wasn’t the files or the room. The room should have been secure.
"You're doing that thing again," Cici said.
I looked up.
"What thing?"
"Thinking."
I almost laughed.
"That's generally considered a good thing."
"Not when you look like you're planning a military operation."
I stood and paced toward the window. Outside, Aspen was dark, the lights from the resort reflecting off the snow. It was beautiful, quiet, normal, which somehow made this feel worse.
I looked back at her.
"Someone came into your room. Again."
Her expression immediately changed.
"You think somebody came in here? While I was sleeping?"
Goosebumps formed on her arms. She shook her head and let out a deep breath.
"I thought the same thing. I was kind of hoping that you would give me another explanation."
"I didn't put that USB there. And you didn't put it there, so that means someone else did."
For a moment neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us. Finally she sank onto the edge of the bed.
"I don't like that."
"No kidding."
She wrapped her arms around herself.
"You think this has something to do with the photos?"
"I don't know."
The truth was I was beginning to think everything was connected.
The photos.
The articles.
The USB.
The timing.
Maybe it was a coincidence.
Maybe it wasn't.
But I had learned a long time ago that coincidence was often just information you didn't have yet.
I sat beside her.
Not touching her.
Just close enough.
"What are you thinking?" she asked.
I exhaled slowly.
"I'm thinking somebody is paying a lot of attention to us."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Us.
Not me.
Us.
Because whoever was behind this wasn't just interested in my company; they were interested in Cici, and that was the part I couldn't get past. She had been dragged into this because of me. If I never invited her to my hotel suite for champagne that night, none of this would be happening.
The thought made me sick.
"We should tell the police," she said.
"We might."
"Might?"
"We don't know enough yet."
She looked frustrated by that answer.
Honestly, so was I.
But I wasn't calling the police and explaining that confidential files had magically appeared on her computer without understanding what I was looking at first.
I needed facts. Not theories.
Because somebody was watching, had gotten into her room, and had planted these files. Every instinct I possessed was screaming that this situation was getting worse.
I rubbed a hand across the back of my neck.
"Whoever is doing this is taking more chances."
Her brows furrowed.
Neither of us said anything for several seconds.
A sharp knock at the door broke the silence.
Cici jumped, her shoulders tensing immediately, while I was already on my feet moving toward the door.
"It's probably room service," I said, though I checked through the peephole before opening it.
A hotel employee stood outside with a cart carrying our dinner.
Once the food was delivered and the door was locked again, we ate together at the small table near the window, neither of us quite able to shake the unease hanging over the room.
"Why? Why would anyone target us?"
"I think somebody is targeting something."
Not exactly reassuring.
But it was the truth.
I wasn't going to lie to her.
"Thanks for being here."
"You're welcome."
We finished our dinner, the tension easing up a bit. I placed the tray outside the door then locked it.
Cici headed for the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later smelling like mint and lavender. She sat beside me on the bed and folded her hands in her lap.
I reached for her hand before I could stop myself. She looked down at our joined hands. Then back up at me. Neither of us pulled away.
The room suddenly felt much smaller, quieter, and more intimate—not because of desire, not this time, but because something had shifted. The stakes felt different now, and the danger felt closer.
Eventually she yawned. A small one. But enough to tell me how exhausted she was.
"You should get some sleep."
She nodded.
"What about you?"
"I'll be here."
Her eyebrows lifted.
"Todd."
"If someone broke in here while you were sleeping, I... we... I can't leave you alone, Cici. We’re staying in the same room from now on."
A dozen arguments crossed her face.
I could practically see them.
Then she glanced toward the laptop and the USB then toward the hotel room door.
And apparently decided she didn't have much fight left in her.
"Okay."
She climbed beneath the blankets.
I waited until she settled in.
Then I checked the door lock.
Twice.
I checked the connecting door to the adjoining room. Then I checked the windows. Only after I was satisfied did I turn off the lights.
When I slid into bed beside her, she was already half asleep.
The room was dark.
A few minutes later I felt her move closer.
Not enough to wake herself.
Just enough to find me.
I wrapped an arm around her waist.
And stared into the darkness.
Someone had entered her room.
Someone had planted those files.
Someone was watching.
I didn't know who.
I didn't know why.
But I knew one thing.
Whatever this was, Cici was in it because of me.
And I wasn't going to let anything happen to her.