Page 7 of Fated By Fire
“Staff updates,” she says. “HR’s onboarding the new team members we discussed earlier. Dorian’s handling it.”
I nod, glancing at my brother, who’s been silent until now. “You happy with the placements?”
“All good,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “I met them all. Seem to fit the bill. Got a firecracker in archives with legs up to—”
“Quit it,” I stop him. “I didn’t send you there to check out their legs. Are their details in order?”
“Hundred percent,” he says. “Gwen did her job.”
“Good,” I say, turning to Sloane. “Send out a memo to the relevant departments to make sure the introductions are done.
The meeting drags on, the elders picking apart every detail of the NyxCorp deal. By the time it’s over, my coffee’s gone cold, and my patience is wearing thinner than ever.
At last, I shove my chair back, looking around at the others. “I think we need to keep an eye on this. At least for the next few days.”
There’s a murmur from around the long table. Malakai looks pissed, but the others seem to agree. I gather my folders and leave the boardroom, feeling a dozen eyes burning between my shoulder blades.
I head back to my office, rolling my neck to loosen the tension there. It doesn’t work. The stack of files on my desk hasn’t miraculously shrunk, and the string of emails in my inbox isgrowing as I look at it. I heave a sigh and pick up a pen. It’s barely 9 am, and I can’t shake the feeling that this day is only going to get worse.
Chapter 3
Elena
Holy crap, I’m bored. It’s been a week since I started at Craven Industries, and I’m still not used to the way the building hums with quiet, efficient energy. I’m not cut out for corporate life, energetic or not.
I stretch my legs beneath my desk, trying to get blood flow to my feet. The archives office is small and cramped, filled with rows of dusty file boxes and a glass case that holds an ornate dagger. A lot of the decor in the place is strangely old-world. I guess it’s because the company is so established. The offices may be set in a high-tech high-rise, but there’s still a sense of history about the place.
Meanwhile, I’ve spent the past five days organizing paperwork, filing documents, and trying to ignore the gnawing suspicion that I’m being watched while finding opportunities to snoop around.
“How you doing there, Jessica?” Brenda pops her head over the partition between our desks. “Getting the hang of it?”
I glance up with a smile. “Slowly,” I say. “I had no idea how far back these records went.” I brush dust from a thick ledger. “I just digitized a set of records from 1856.” I have to admit, as surveillance jobs go, this one has been different.
“I know, right?” Brenda bobs her chin up and down, an arm dangling over the partition. “But that’s lucky for us because we’ll have jobs for the next decade.”
God help me.
“Tell me about it.” I grin, leaning back and stretching. Brenda gives me a pointed look. My pencil skirt has ridden up my thighs, and I tug it down to cover my knees.
Crap. I’m just not made for this office-wear bullshit.
“I’m going down to the coffee shop for a latte,” she says. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “Can’t do caffeine after noon, or I bounce off the walls.”
Brenda giggles. “You do that anyway, Jess.” She slides away from the partition. I hear her shuffling things around on her desk. “Be back in a bit,” she calls as she heads out the door.
I give a vague reply and hunch over my desk, one eye on the door. As her footsteps recede down the hall, I rise and move to the mainframe along the one wall. Everything about this company is stored on that massive machine, and luckily for me, I got the access code. That gut instinct of mine told me it was Greg's anniversary date, and I turned out to be right.
Smart cookie, Lennie.
I punch it in now, glancing over my shoulder occasionally as I scroll through some of the hundreds of folders. I can access these files from my own machine, but that would leave a digital footprint, and I don’t want anything pointing to me. Although, it would be a whole lot easier to find what I’m looking for if Iactually knew what it was. I settle half my buttcheek onto the chair and lean toward the screen.
The trill of my phone gives me such a fright that I squawk and knock the mouse on the floor.
“Breaker, breaker, come in, Red Rover,” the voice on the line says as I answer.
“Jesus, Mara! You scared me half to death,” I mutter, shooting a furtive glance around the room.
