Chapter 19
“So what do we have?” Ethan asks, settling into my living room armchair like he owns it. Knowing my brother, he probably does own the building.
It’s been a week since Eve told me about Joshua, and I’ve been digging into him.
Jake sprawls across my couch, examining my bookshelf like it holds the secrets of the universe. “Please tell me you have something more exciting than ‘Joshua Taylor loves his job.’”
I toss Joshua’s personnel file onto the coffee table between us. “We might have our guy.”
That gets their attention. Both my brothers look up at me sharply.
“Joshua did his bachelor’s in engineering,” I say, letting that sink in for a moment. “Then switched to marketing for his master’s. And guess what he left off his resume when he applied here.”
Ethan’s expression immediately sharpens. “The engineering degree.”
“Exactly.” I lean forward, adrenaline starting to pump through my veins. “The break-in in the Marketing Department—Nick said the guy had to have an IT or engineering background to make that jammer device. Joshua fits the profile.”
Jake sits up straighter. “And he’s been hiding it this whole time.”
“Exactly,” I say. “This isn’t just suspicious. This could be our smoking gun.”
Ethan’s expression has gone cold and calculating. “We need more than circumstantial evidence, but this changes everything.”
“I’ve spent this last week having HR and IT pour over everything,” I say. “His emails, browsing history, phone records, lunch receipts. There’s nothing to indicate he’s the mole.”
I’ve been over his emails with IT three times now.
Nothing. Not even a suspicious attachment or a forwarded message to the wrong person.
His browsing history is boring as hell—marketing blogs, industry reports, the occasional cat video.
But now I’m wondering if he’s just better at covering his tracks than I gave him credit for.
Ethan nods grimly. “I’m having a PI dig into his background. Deep dive. If there’s anything to find, we’ll find it.”
“What about what Eve saw?” Jake asks. “The car that was parked outside?”
Ethan’s expression darkens. “I had security check it out. The spot where that car was parked? It’s a blind spot for our building’s cameras. Even the building across the street doesn’t have coverage of that area.”
“Convenient,” I mutter.
“Very,” Ethan agrees. “Whoever was in that car knew exactly where to position themselves to avoid our surveillance but still had a clear view of our building.”
Jake leans forward. “So we’re definitely dealing with someone who’s done their homework.”
“Which brings me to my next question,” Ethan says, his amber eyes fixed on me. “How much do you trust Eve?”
The question catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean exactly what I said. How much do you trust her?”
“I’d trust her with my life.” The words come out before I can stop them, and I’m surprised to realize I actually mean it. Completely. When did that happen?
Ethan studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Good. Because we need to consider all possibilities here.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, not liking his tone.
“I’m just saying that if there’s a mole in Marketing, we can’t rule anyone out completely.”
“You think Eve is involved?” I ask sharply.
“I think,” Ethan says carefully, “that we need to be thorough. That’s all.”
“Eve’s not the mole, Ethan.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know her.” The words come out fierce, protective. “She’s not capable of this kind of betrayal.”
Ethan holds up a hand. “Alright. I believe you.” He pauses, then his expression shifts. “Speaking of which, Megan is pretty angry with you two. And Nick, for some reason.”
Both Jake and I exchange a look. Here we go.
“She’s giving me the silent treatment,” I say. “So I know she’s pissed.”
“What did you do?” Ethan asks, his amber eyes narrowing.
“We didn’t do anything. To her,” Jake says.
When Ethan just stares at him, he adds, “We might have talked some sense into her boyfriend for cheating on her.”
Ethan goes very, very still. The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but furious. “Her boyfriend was cheating on her?” Ethan may pretend to be cool and calculated, but he’s very protective of Megan. We all are.
“Look,” I say quickly, “she wanted to handle it, but her way would have ended in violence whereas we were tactful.”
Ethan’s tone drips with sarcasm. “I know very well how ‘tactful’ you lot are. You should have talked to me before doing anything. Now she’s on the warpath. And how did you drag Nick into it?”
“He was passing by and wanted to help,” I explain.
Ethan runs a hand through his hair. “You three had better fix this. I’ve never seen her so angry. And I want the boyfriend’s name and details.” His voice goes ice-cold on the last part.
I exchange a look with Jake, but there’s no getting around this. “I’ll send it to you.”
“Good.” Ethan stands up, straightening his jacket.
We’re all heading toward the door when Ethan stops and turns to Jake. “And what exactly do you think you’re doing with my head of marketing?”
Jake freezes, his hand on the doorknob. When he turns around, he’s wearing that innocent expression that’s fooled exactly no one since we were kids.
“Nothing,” he says. “We’re just friends.”
Ethan’s smile could cut glass. “Jake.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
“Why would I need to be—”
“Because Iris isn’t as tight-lipped with Natalie as you are with me.”
The color drains from Jake’s face. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Ethan says, opening the door, “that my fiancée knows exactly what you’ve been up to. And she tells me everything.” Jake looks like he wants to say something—probably something involving colorful language—but Ethan’s already walking away.
I turn to Jake as the door closes behind our oldest brother. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”
Jake straightens his tie and gives me a look that could have come straight from our father’s playbook. “Mind your own business, Caleb.” But there’s something in his tone, something almost fond, that tells me this conversation is far from over.
“Jake.”
“Mind your own business, Caleb,” he repeats mildly. He’s out the door before I can respond, leaving me standing alone in my apartment with more questions than answers.
I gather up the empty beer bottles and glasses, carrying them to the kitchen.
The silence settles around me like a heavy blanket.
I hate how quiet this place gets, but I can’t deny it’s convenient for work.
No neighbors banging around above me, no thin walls letting in street noise.
Just me and my thoughts in this ridiculously oversized penthouse.
Three bedrooms, though I only use one. There’s a study where I actually get work done, and a gaming room for when I need to blow off steam.
Megan decorated the whole place a couple years back, insisting I needed ‘some culture and class’ in my life.
She added throw pillows that serve no purpose, artwork I don’t understand, and plants I somehow manage not to kill.
The feminine touches don’t bother me; it’s better than the bachelor pad aesthetic I would have gone with.
But as I look around now, I find myself wondering what Eve would think of this place.
Would she roll her eyes at the expensive but impractical furniture?
Make some sarcastic comment about the view?
Or would she curl up on that ridiculously oversized couch with a glass of wine like she did at her apartment?
I start pulling ingredients from the fridge, deciding to make something more substantial than the sandwich I was planning. Maybe I should invite Eve over for dinner sometime. Cook for her properly, not just bring takeout to her place.
The thought makes me smile without realizing it.
She’d probably have something cutting to say about my kitchen, or my cooking, or the fact that I’m thinking about cooking for her at all.
That spicy tongue of hers never seems to take a break, and I find myself looking forward to whatever verbal lashing she’ll give me next. I wonder if I’m a masochist.
The way she tears into people, refuses to be pushed around, fills me with a sense of satisfaction.
How could her mother not be proud of her?
But then I remember how Natalie’s mother was.
I’ve been raised by a mother who only ever loved and supported her children, so perhaps it’s incomprehensible to me for a mother to be so harsh to her child.
But Eve is fierce, and her ambition is a terrifying thing.
I know she will go places. This small company will not be enough to satisfy her.
I want to see her climb to the top, I realize.
I want to watch her successes and failures.
Eve Lopez is a formidable opponent, and I’m slowly getting addicted to everything about her.
Especially in bed. I do enjoy being the only one who can break through that stubborn streak of hers.
In bed, that sharp tongue gets put to much better use.
The rebelliousness that is always there in her eyes, that streak of defiance, breaking it when she’s under me, having her beg for more is like an aphrodisiac.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m reaching for my phone and scrolling to her number. She picks up on the third ring, and her voice is distinctly cranky. “What do you want, Caleb?”
My smile broadens as I lean against the counter. “Hey, Lopez. What are you up to?”
“Why?” The suspicion in her voice makes me want to chuckle.
“Can I come over?”
Silence, and then, “Bring wine. I’m out.” The line goes dead, and I’m out the door with my keys and wallet in the next heartbeat.
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