Office Fling (Manhattan Bad Boys BWWM Interracial Romance) Read online

  “You’re not wrong,” I agree with a sigh, shrugging my shoulders, “But it’s not like we can tell him that; he’d have our hide.”

  “I know, I know, I just…man, I hate that guy.”

  “That,” I say with a grin, “Is something that you will hear absolutely no argument from me on; I’m not exactly his biggest fan either.”

  “Well at least we can agree on something. Hey, if only Jeremiah could see us now, huh? Smiling and conversing like a big boy and girl. Adults.”

  I roll my eyes with a chuckle and we go our separate ways, him towards his office and me towards mine. I stop halfway there though and decide to go to the kitchen to get another coffee, since I didn’t really get to enjoy the one from this morning.

  Just as I’m pouring it into my cup my phone dings and I almost spill it, cursing as I take out my phone to see who it is. Of course it’s Ashton; he’s already interrupted my morning coffee, so why not this one too?

  I sigh and finish pouring, and then I open up the email, shaking my head as I read through it. The blowback from the leak has started and Ashton has sent me the details of an injunction that’s been filed in court this morning seeking to keep Broadstreet Investments from managing the $18 billion pension fund.

  My eyes dart to the bottom of the email signature and I can’t help but snicker, a smile creeping onto my face as I read the P.S.:

  ‘I’ve also decided that we should do the rest of this work via email, that way you can’t force-feed me any more baked goods; despite how delicious they were.’

  I actually laugh out loud and shake my head as I tuck my phone into my pocket, heading back towards my office. I can’t remember the last time a man actually made me genuinely laugh, and for the first time since learning that I would be working with Ashton, I’m actually feeling like this collaboration just might work.

  9

  Ashton

  Emily’s laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me right now. I’ve heard her laugh before. On several occasions, I’ve liked the sound of her laugh. But right now, it makes me want to throw things. What could she be laughing at? An injunction has just been filed in the Superior Court of New York City against Broadstreet Investments managing the New York City Pension Fund in light of the recent leak. This is no laughing matter. We need to quash this injunction. Fast.

  I look at my computer screen to see if she’s ready my email. She opened it one minute ago.

  I clench and unclench my fists. I thought I was clear about how we need to take this seriously. There’s too much at stake right now. Yet she’s in there laughing? It’s a wonder that she made it as far in the company as she has with an attitude like that.

  Clearly, she didn’t take Jeremiah’s lecture seriously either. Emily thinks she’s perfect and can do no wrong, she doesn’t need correction when she acts like a spoiled brat in the office.

  My anger rises. If I don’t calm myself down soon I’ll never be able to focus.

  I eye the jar of cookies on my desk. I almost don’t want to eat one simply because they were baked in Emily’s kitchen. I quickly realize that’s stupid. Emily didn’t make them. Jade did. Jade’s cookies deserve to be eaten and enjoyed.

  I grab a snickerdoodle and eat half in one bite. It melts in my mouth. I can’t believe a cookie works as an anger management technique. Jade has some serious skill.

  I’m still annoyed that Emily thought I would use Jade to manipulate her like that. The whole reason Emily was furious with me for showing up in the middle of the night was because she didn’t want Jade to wake up. I feel bad that Jade ended up awake after that ordeal. Aside from Jade, my experience with kids is pretty limited. I don’t know how heavily they sleep or what happens when they don’t get enough. I guess Emily can’t exactly pour coffee into Jade and send her off to school, though.

  I thought my solution was reasonable until Emily reacted like that.

  I can’t fault her for being honorable, no matter how much I want to. It’s better than having her plan to snake the credit out from under me or sabotage me in some other way.

  My computer dings. It’s an email from Emily. I open it, expecting to find a response to the email I just sent her. Instead, she’s cc’d me on an invitation to her stupid dinner party.

  I can’t tell if she’s trying to get under my skin or not. Either way, consider her a splinter.

  There are fourteen other recipients listed along with a cutesy little blurb about how nothing brings people together like a good meal. It conjures images of holiday dinners with the family, the ones I rarely attend anymore. There’s also a pretentious line about enjoying good company and conversation. I find that people who need to announce that they are great conversationalists are often the opposite.

  Then, I get to the ‘hosted by’ section. My name is written in fancy calligraphy right next to Emily’s. My address is listed along with a time that Emily wants people to arrive.

  Fuck that.

  I stand up at my desk, shoving my chair back so hard that it nearly topples. I catch it and steady it. That chair costs a lot of money and has great lumbar support. I’d hate for anything to happen to it. I’d hate even more to pay for damages.

  I peek into the hallway, checking to make sure Jeremiah isn’t stalking the halls waiting for an excuse to yell at me again. When I’m sure the coast is clear, I dart into Emily’s office and shut her door.

  “Excuse me,” she fixes me with a look. “I have an open-door policy. That only works when the door is open.”

  “I just saw your email.” My smile is tight and forced. Emily grins up at me.

  “Aren’t the invitations darling? I used the designer my mother likes. I thought they came off at a little pretentious in places but I think that will work in our favor.”

  “Our favor? No, your favor. I want nothing to do with this. You know I think the whole thing is stupid.”

  “That’s exactly why I want you involved,” she counters. “You need to see the value of social networking. I’ve already explained to you the benefits of getting those fourteen people in a room together.”

  “Pumping people for information isn’t our job!”

  “We can’t leave it to detectives,” she scoffs. “No one in their right mind tells the whole truth to a detective. People tell the truth, and so much more, when they think they won’t have to face consequences. What’s more inconsequential than harmless dinner party chatter?”

  She has a good point but no way in hell am I going to admit that.

  “If you’re dead set on doing this, that’s fine. I’m not going to stop you. Hell, I won’t even bash it anymore. But you can forget about co-hosting. You’re on your own with this.”

  “You’re my partner for this case.” Emily balls her hand into a fist but that’s her only sign of anger. “That means I’m not supposed to have to do anything alone in this.”

  “Now who’s the manipulative one?” I narrow my eyes. “This party was your idea. You organized it. You made the guest list. You host it. I want nothing to do with it.”

  “I can’t have it at my apartment,” she exclaims.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “You saw it last night! The kitchen and the living room are the same room!” She throws her hands up in the air. “Did you see the people on that list? I can’t bring them to my apartment. It has to be at your place or they’ll never show.”

  “You should’ve thought of that before you sent the invite,” I say smugly.

  “You should’ve listened to Jeremiah,” I shoot back. “What we need is evidence, not gossip.”

  “Once again, you fail to see the importance of public opinion.”

  “Public opinion doesn’t put people behind bars. Evidence does.”

  “That’s not the whole truth and you know it. Who does the sentencing at trials?” She retorts.

  “The jury.”

  “Who makes up the jury?”

  I know where she’s going with this so I don’t answer. Fooli
sh of me to think that will stop her.

  “Normal people off the street make up a jury.” She goes on without missing a beat. “Do you think juries care about technical facts they aren’t qualified to understand? No!”

  “That’s why there’s a trial,” I say through clenched teeth. “So that the technical facts can be explained in a way anyone would understand.

  “It’s a lovely thought, but that’s not the reality. Every single person on a jury was called there randomly. When they got the notice, they were pissed. When they reported for jury duty, they were pissed. When they got an assignment instead of being dismissed, they were pissed. When they get up at six in the morning to report to court to listen to a presentation they don’t want to listen to, guess what?”

  “They’re pissed.”

  “Exactly! Unless the presenting attorneys plan on putting on a musical number, the jury really doesn’t give a shit about listening to facts that don’t make a lot of sense in the first place. Every jury member uses perception to make their verdicts.”

  “You’re underestimating the jury,” I argue.

  “You’re overestimating someone’s ability to care about something that has nothing to do with them,” she retorts. “This is a heavy publicized case thanks to whoever leaked those files. If we want to get through this, we need to make the most positive public image we can. This is a game of evidence, you’re right about that, but it’s a bigger game of perception. If the public turns on Broadstreet, we’ll never recover from it even if we get the verdict we want.”

  “I’m still not hosting a dinner party,” I smirk.

  Emily rolls her eyes.

  “The invitations have already been sent. You don’t have a choice here.”

  “Of course I do,” I say. “I have the mailing list now, thanks to you. All I have to do is send out an email with an address correction. Why don’t you host it here or at the firm if your apartment isn’t suitable?”

  “Are you out of your mind?” She looks at me as though I’ve grown a second head.

  “What?” I thought holding it at the firm was a good idea.

  “The dinner party is supposed to convey a relaxed, familial vibe. If we move that to a place of work, everyone will fall into workplace pattern behaviors. If they’re in a nice home, they’ll be more inclined to talk.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “It’s human nature,” she winks. “You’d be amazing at how many simple controls people have.”

  “And you think I’m the manipulative one,” I scoff.

  “I’m not manipulative,” she says. “I simply know how to recognize patterns in human behavior. The goal of this dinner party is to get information one wouldn’t discuss in an office setting. Therefore, it must be held in a home. Your home.”

  “Need I remind you once more that gathering information isn’t our job? Our job is to compile evidence.”

  “This is just another way of compiling evidence. Gossip carries weight. And it gives us a place where to look.”

  “Not in the court of law.”

  “This is beyond the court of law,” she insists. “Whoever leaked those files needs to be found and punished through our justice system. I’m not disagreeing with you on that.”

  “It sure as hell sounds like you are.”

  Emily lowers her hands to her sides and makes a visible effort to relax.

  “We haven’t been hired to bring whoever did this to justice. We’ve been hired to control a scandal. I’m telling you that this is the best way to do that. Why don’t you trust me?”

  Her words catch me off guard. She has more experience navigating turbulent social waters.

  “Are you sure this will work?” I ask her. “Can you promise me that you’ll get relevant information that will make a difference in this case?”

  A wry smile plays across her lips.

  “Just watch me.”

  10

  Emily

  “I have the information you wanted, Ms. Dyer,” Carrie, one of my favorite paralegals to work with, says as she pokes her head into my office.

  “Thank you, Carrie. You can leave it on my desk and I’ll have a peek just as soon as I finish sending these emails,” I say. Carrie enters my office and approaches my desk.

  “I haven’t read anything,” she prefaces, “but from the look of the documents, I think you’re still going to have trouble piecing everything together.”

  “What do you mean?” I look up at her with my brow furrowed.

  “There’s a fair slew of redacted information. There will be a few blanks in need of filling,” Carrie says.

  “I see.” I try not to frown. “That’s all right. I anticipated something like this. Thanks for getting everything to me so quickly. You’re heaven sent.”

  “You know what my motivation is.” Carrie gives me a conspiratorial look.

  “Go ahead and take two.” I gesture to the jar of cookies on my desk.

  Carrie giggles as she takes the cookies. As long as I have those cookies, I have leverage in the office. It’s a pretty sweet setup if I do say so myself.

  Once Carrie leaves, I close my door and slip out of my heels. It’s much easier for me to read when I’m comfortable. I immediately saw what Carrie mentioned earlier. No names are included anywhere in the reports. However, there are platoon and squad numbers. With a little digging, the names of the individuals could easily be found. So why wasn’t that information leaked?

  Ashton didn’t give me the specifics of the incident in question. Luckily, a complete incident report is included in the packet Carrie complied. I’m not sure what I’m expecting when I start reading, but with each line, I grow more and more shocked. Without the names listed, I have a hard time discerning which members of what platoon were involved.

  I lift my hand to my mouth as I read the horrifying story of a unit gone rogue on unconfirmed information. The death count listed brings tears to my eyes. I close the packet and take a moment to compose myself.

  I should’ve been allowed to prepare for the emotional level of this case. The way Ashton talked about it made it seem like a minor incident, not a massacre. How could he not think the details of this case matter? This changes everything. It’s not a case of a platoon going to the wrong location. Innocent people died.

  Before I know what I’m doing, I grab my phone and dial the extension for Ashton’s office.

  “You could just come talk to me, you know?” He says, attempting a joke.

  “You should’ve told me,” I say through clenched teeth. Ashton says nothing. He knows what I mean. I pull up the Broadstreet contact information and get them on a conference call. Within moments, Tristan, Derek, and Chase are on the line.

  “We need to set a time to meet up and discuss things further,” I say crisply. “But right now, I need to know if any of you were part of that rogue unit.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Never.”

  “No way.”

  I find that I can breathe somewhat easier.

  “If I uncover evidence that says otherwise, we’ll be in deep trouble,” I warn them.

  “They weren’t there,” Ashton finally speaks again. “If you won’t take their word, take mine.”

  “All right,” I agree. “That explains why names weren’t released. If you weren’t there, the person responsible for leaking the information knows that but wants this pinned on you regardless. Know anyone who would do that?”

  “How much time do you have?” Chase replies. “We’re successful in our field. We didn’t get there by being besties with everyone.”

  “You think this could be a professional rival?”

  “That’s possible. Or it could be anyone who didn’t like us in our days of service. SEALs aren’t known for being friendly.”

  “Right.” I press my free hand against my temples. “Now that we’ve cleared this up, I’ll schedule a meeting and we can go from there.”

  I hang up without saying anything. I’
m still rattled from the incident report. Those poor families. I half expect Ashton to come barreling around the corner to scold me but he doesn’t. He knows he screwed up keeping such pertinent details from me.

  After taking another moment to breathe, I call the Broadstreet’s secretary who transfers me to Jordan. I’ve heard her name floating around lately. I’ve been very impressed by what I’ve heard.

  “I need to schedule a meeting with you and our clients for as soon as possible,” I say once we’ve exchanged pleasantries.

  “Why me?” Jordan asks. I can tell she’s flattered that I’ve asked her to be there.

  “I’ve heard nothing but good things about your attention to detail and thoroughness. It can only help the case,” I explain. Jordan is like Carrie, just the sort of person I like to work with.

  “I appreciate that. I’ve worked hard to get here,” she says.

  “I understand that.” I find myself grinning. Jordan is the sort of woman I’d like to befriend. Maybe I’ll invite her for a girl’s night when this is over. Her daughter and Jade might get along as well. “Any luck finding a PR firm to take over the case?”

  “No luck,” she sighs. “The tiniest hint of scandal sends the firms running. You’d think it would be the opposite, wouldn’t you?”

  “A PR firm loves a scandal-less client,” I joke. “That way no one has to work and it’s just one charity event after another.”

  “Even the firms that initially show interest bolt when they realize the scandal involved the armed forces. No one wants to touch something that sensitive.”

  “I can understand that too,” I laugh dryly.

  “I’ve moved some things around in the calendars. I can get all three men plus myself in for a meeting later today.” Jordan sounds like she’s going to say something else but she pulls away from the phone. I can tell she’s covering the receiver with one hand because her voice sounds far away and muffled. I can’t make out what she’s saying but she’s definitely talking to someone.