Morning comes, and I’m determined to make it a great first day at work. By seven forty-five, I am at the human-resources office. The receptionist, a rather standoffish twenty-something woman with light-brown hair, offers me coffee. I decline, and she points me to one of about ten burgundy lobby chairs. By eight-thirty, I reconsider the coffee. At nine, I am feeling antsy when a slender woman with spiky black hair and wearing a fitted navy dress walks down the hall. A curvy, very Bette Midler–ish redhead is on her heels.
“I really need to go to my desk and pick up my pictures,” the brunette insists, turning to the other woman. “They’re very personal and sentimental. Irreplaceable in every way.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the redhead says, giving her simple black dress a sharp straightening that screams of irritation. “Have a seat and I’ll be with you.”
The brunette’s back is to me and I can’t see her reaction, but she says nothing, turning and walking to the coffee machine to get a cup for herself. It is an obvious act of rebellion, a statement that she will go with her chin held high, and I am not the only one who notices. The redhead glares at the other woman for several long beats before shifting her gaze to me. “Ms. Miller?”
“Yes.” I pop to my feet, reaching for my purse and briefcase. “That’s me.”
“Actually,” the woman replies, an irritated look reddening her pale complexion, “I need to take care of another matter before we meet.”
It is all I can do not to slump in defeat. There is no apology. No real explanation. Just basically sit and behave. “Can I start working and come back later?” I ask hopefully.
“No. You need clearance from me or someone in HR first. And I’m the only one available.”
Except that she isn’t available. But I nod my acceptance—not that she sees me. She is already rushing away by the time I sit down. My attention returns to the receptionist’s desk, where I find the brunette resting a hip on the desk and the two women’s heads dipped close. The rasp of whispers I can’t make out is fuzzing up the air, and the unease of a gut feeling that I am their topic is impossible to shake.
I glance at the hallway, where the redhead has disappeared, and grimace at being left to wallow in discomfort. She did not even introduce herself to me. Note to self for my analysis of the staff, I silently say. The redhead is not a woman who makes new employees feel warm and fuzzy. If Mr. Ward cares. After last night, I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Abruptly, the brunette lifts her head, and her eyes soften as they land on me with something akin to sympathy. Oh, God. What does she know that I don’t? She shoves off the desk and abandons her coffee, heading toward me as if she is on a mission.
She sits next to me and motions to the unfriendly receptionist. “Carrie says you’re my replacement.”
I’m stunned. She’s the one who made the mess all over the desk? “I … uh … am?”
“Yes,” she confirms. “I’m Natalie. Mr. Ward fired me yesterday. Or, well, he had his bulldog Terrance do it. Bastard didn’t even have the courage to look at me eye-to-eye. I have two kids at home.” Her voice cracks, and dampness glistens in her brown eyes. “What am I supposed to do now?”
My gut twists. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”
She swipes at an escaping droplet. “I’m sorry. I swore I wouldn’t cry. I didn’t want to come today, but they wouldn’t give me my severance until I did exit interviews. Two years and I was turned into a paper file in two words. ‘You’re fired.’ I just moved to a bigger apartment. Be warned. You’re about to be working for a coldhearted snake.”
“What happened? Why did he fire you?” I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.
“One of my kids is sick, and I was distracted and made an error. It made him look bad and he fired me.”
I was right. I didn’t want to know. “Because you made a mistake?”
She sniffs. “Because I made him look bad. You do not make him look bad or you’ll be gone.” She squeezes my arm. “I wanted to warn you. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t.”
A shiver chases her touch up my arm, and it’s an odd sensation. Something is off. Me. Her. Mr. Ward. I’m not sure. “Can he do that?” I ask. “Fire you for simply making him look bad?”
“There’s some clause in the employment agreement about damaging the company reputation, and, let me tell you, it’s so all-inclusive that, in management’s opinion, you could sneeze in public at the wrong time and get axed. Something should be done about it, but I don’t have the strength to fight him and fight for my kids.”
I resist her claims, and I am shocked at how badly I do not want my new boss to be the same arrogant, rich, self-righteous jerk I’d assumed he would be. That my father is. That Kent is. But considering my life has always drawn precisely that kind of man, Mr. Ward being like them would be fitting. And if he is, my attraction to him will be over—or, I vow, I will seek counseling.
It’s also the start of a familiar cycle. I get wrapped in the glove of power of one of these men and then smashed beneath the shoe of their contempt.
I inhale and stiffen my spine. Not this time. Not. This. Time. “Listen, Natalie,” I say, “I can’t get you your job back, but I’ll try to get you justice. I’m a reporter. I’ll write a tell-all and expose him for what he is. But I need time to gather facts. If you have things I should look for, then call me.”
This time, she looks stunned. “You’re a … what?”
“A reporter. I got laid off, but I know how to get a mass press release out that will draw attention.” I’ll be helping others and helping my own career.
“Oh … well, yes. Thank you. I—” The lobby door opens, and her gaze jerks beyond me.
I turn to find Terrance standing there, and he is as good-looking as I remember but not nearly as friendly. In fact, at the moment, his handsome face is carved with so much intensity, I think he must be channeling Mr. Ward.
He gives me a short nod. “Kali.”
I lift my hand in greeting, but his attention has already moved away from me to Natalie. “Time to leave,” he says to her.
She pushes to her feet. “I assumed you were here to walk me out.”
“As promised,” he replies, and there is none of the friendliness in his tone that he’d shown me the night before.
“I need my personal items,” she says.
“We’ll talk in the hallway” is his response, and I have this sense that if she asks for her pictures again, he will have her arrested. It doesn’t make sense.
Natalie hugs herself, then gives me a sympathetic look. “Good luck,” she says softly, before defiantly lifting her chin and walking toward the door.
Terrance does not follow her, his blue eyes landing hard on me. “Is there a problem I should know about?”
My fingers dig into the chair I’m occupying. “Aside from me sitting here for two hours when my boss wants me at my desk, no.”
“Ms. Miller.”
My head jerks at the familiar tone of the redhead’s voice, and I stand up. “Coming,” I say, making eye contact with her but caving to Terrance’s silent command that pulls my gaze back to him.
“Call me if there’s a problem,” he says, and it’s an order. “And I mean any problem, Kali.”
“I will,” I assure him, but I am truly lost. I feel as if something has happened that I should be aware of, but I’m not.
He gives me a few seconds more to squirm under his inspection, which at this moment is intense enough to rival my boss’s. I do not look away. Once again I’m being sized up, and I survived his boss, so I’ll survive him. His eyes narrow, almost as if he hears my thoughts, and then he surprises me and smiles. It transforms him into the easygoing guy I met the night before.
“I have a feeling you and your boss are going to be quite the interesting matchup. I might even pop some popcorn to watch.” And with that he turns and leaves. I gape after him, as confused as the Bambi I am not.
* * *
Twenty minutes later I still don’t know the HR person’s name, but my badge has been issued and I’m alone in her office, sitting in the visitor’s chair. And while my mission when I got up this morning was to start a new career, it’s now to write a story about this place that will relaunch me into reporting and help some of the poor employees.
“We need to go down a checklist together,” the HR person says, returning and sitting behind her desk.
My cell phone rings. Her lips purse. “It would be appropriate, Ms. Miller, to turn that off.”
I reach for my purse to retrieve it. “I would, but—”
“There is no ‘but.’ It’s inappropriate.”
I grab my phone and glance at the caller ID, which reads DW. I quickly accept the call. “Hello.”
“I’m surprised you answered, Ms. Miller. I’m told you were a no-show to work.”
How his voice manages to be both sexy and cranky is beyond me.
“Ms. Miller,” the redhead warns sharply, but I ignore her.
“I’m in HR,” I tell him, trying to explain myself. “I’ve been here since a quarter to eight.”
“Ms. Miller!”
“Who’s barking your name?” he demands, and if he was cranky seconds before, he’s thunderous now.
I glance at the redhead. “I, uh, don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he challenges.
“I haven’t gotten a name.”
“You’ve been in HR for two hours and you don’t know the name of the person you’re with?”
I cut my gaze from the woman to her desk. “I was in the waiting room for most of the two hours.”
“What? You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbles under his breath. “Put whomever you are with on the phone.”
I really don’t want someone else’s job on my conscience, either.
“Ms. Miller,” he says, and my name is a reprimand.
“Yes?”
“Put the person on the phone.”
“Please don’t make me do that.”
“You do not follow direction well, do you?”
“I’m about to head to my desk now.”
“Put the HR person on the phone.”
I sigh and hold my cell out to the now-pale redhead, who has clearly figured out to whom I am talking. She accepts it and presses it to her ear. “Mr. Ward—”
He obviously cuts her off as she goes silent, then says, “Yes. Yes.” Silence. “I didn’t know.” More silence, and she glances at me. “Right. I do know. I’ll make it happen.” She listens another few seconds and then hands me back the phone. “Your turn again.”
“Hello,” I say, placing the phone to my ear.
“This isn’t how we operate, and Maggie is normally amazing. I apologize that your day started like this, but right now I’m going to make it worse. I have an important meeting in an hour, and the computer is saying the documents I need are inaccessible. Tech support is on it, but I need you to pull the hard copies and scan them for me.”
I’ve barely recovered from his unexpected apology when the urgency of his tone has me standing. “Yes. Of course. I’ll go now.”
“Have you been assigned an email yet?”
“No.”
“Tell Maggie you need one yesterday and then call me when you get upstairs.”
“Yes, okay.”
He hangs up and I immediately tell the HR person, “I need an email ASAP, please. Can you call me at Mr. Ward’s desk with the log-in so I can head in that direction?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Do what you have to do.”
“Thanks,” I say, already turning.
“Ms. Miller,” she says, drawing my attention again.
“Yes?”
“I’m Maggie, and Mr. Ward reminded me that I am only cranky once a month and occasionally during a crisis. Lucky you got both in one day. I’m sorry and thank you for trying to cover my ass.”
I gape. “He said that to you?”
“Well, I said that to him on another occasion. He just repeated it. Welcome on board. I promise to show you I mean it soon.”
I’m confused all over again about my boss, who Natalie has painted as a monster but is now portrayed as thoughtful and involved with his employees. “Thank you, Maggie. And everything is fine with me, so don’t worry about it. But I better run.”
“Yes, of course. Go. I’ll set up the email and bring it and your paperwork to you.”
I rush out of the door and don’t stop until I am shut inside the empty elevator. Staring at the floors dinging by, I am transported to another elevator ride and that moment when Mr. Ward’s body first absorbed mine, and I can almost feel the heat that rushed through me. I squeeze my eyes shut with the memory of his hardness cradling my body and decide that, while I am confused about most everything right now, my attraction to my boss is crystal clear. And if I don’t find a way to get it under control, it will be obvious to him and everyone else, too.
* * *
“Where have you been?” Dana demands when I exit into the lobby of the corporate offices.
“Human resources,” I say, and I don’t stop. My cell starts ringing and I dig it from my purse as I add, “I need to handle something for Mr. Ward.”
“Hello?” I say, answering the call.
“Are you there yet?”
“No. Not yet. I can email it from my personal account if I need to.”
“That’s okay. Just try to find the files. Where are you?”
“Walking in to your office.” I open the door and flip on the light, and the scent of him rushes over me. I shiver with the impact but shove past it, ignoring the seating area. I round the conference table to my left, heading for the massive black-and-glass desk at the center of the room.
“Are you at my desk?”
“Sitting down now,” I say, setting my briefcase and purse on the floor and letting the cushy leather absorb me. “Let me put you on speaker.” I hit the button and then say, “Okay. Where do I look?”
“Left drawer, in a file marked New York Ventures.”
I thumb through the files. “Got it.”
“Perfect. This is highly confidential. I want it sent on our server and email. I have a scanner attached to my computer, so power up.”
“I have your email and documents,” Maggie announces at the door.
“Oh, good,” I say. “Thank you. Can I bring you the documents in a bit? I just need the email immediately.”
She rushes forward and, oddly, Mr. Ward says nothing, like he doesn’t want her to know he’s on the line. “Here’s the email.” She opens her folder and pulls out a sheet of paper. “If you want to power up, I’ll show you how to log in.”
“Yes, please.” I punch a button of the computer, and for Mr. Ward’s benefit I say, “Powering up now.” Maggie’s gaze lands on the report on the desk, lingering a bit too intently it seems, and I get a funny feeling deep in my gut. She’s been around a lot longer than me so this shouldn’t bother, but it just feels like she’s being nosy. I shut the file and frown at the flashing green light on the computer screen. “What do I do now?”
Maggie motions to the computer. “Key in your first and last name.”
“Where?” I ask, thinking I must be blind or doing something wrong.
Frowning, Maggie comes around the desk, and her eyes go wide. “Oh. Oh, my. That’s not good.”
“What’s not good?” Mr. Ward demands.
Maggie jumps and presses her hand to her chest. “Mr. Ward. I didn’t know you were on the phone. The screen is flashing with a green line. I think your computer has crashed.”
“It’s not only his computer,” Dana says, appearing in the doorway. “It’s everyone’s.”
“Call tech support immediately,” Maggie instructs.
“That’s the first thing I did,” Dana quickly assures her. “They said the servers are down and they will be in touch.”
“Take me off speaker,” Mr. Ward orders.
I grab the phone and hit the button, then put it to my ear. “I’m here.”
“Dana knows the airline I charter. Tell her my meeting has been canceled and to get the plane ready within the hour. I’m headed to the airport.”
“Oh. Okay. So you don’t need the file?”
“Get me the plane, Ms. Miller.”
The sharpness of his tone takes me off guard. “Dana,” I say. “Get Mr. Ward a plane, please. His meeting was just canceled and he’s ready to be home. He’d like to leave within the hour.”
“Okay,” she says. “What about the computers?”
“I’ll get an update from tech support for you,” I promise, winging it, not sure what is happening but certain it’s far more than we all know.
“On it,” Dana assures me, and turns to leave.
“I’ll go check in with tech support in person,” Maggie offers, and she’s gone before I can reply.
“Ms. Miller?”
“Yes,” I say, pressing the phone fully to my ear. “I’m back.”
“Text me your personal email. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He ends the call.
I grimace at the phone. Something is off. Something is really off. I text him my email. He doesn’t reply. Until he does, I don’t even know what to do next. Nerves flutter in my stomach for no explainable reason.
Intending to find a scanner not attached to the network, I gather the file and am stuffing it into my briefcase when Terrance appears in the door, his jaw clenched, eyes hard. Those nerves I had turn into stabbing pains. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“There’s been a security breach. The casino and hotel are going on lockdown. We hope to have the public areas cleared in a few hours. Anyone considered high risk will not be released until we have the source of the breach. You’re a temp and it’s your first day. That means you, Ms. Miller.”
Ms. Miller. Not Kali. My throat tightens and I rasp out, “What does that mean—lockdown?”
“It means I’m going to give you a cushy room with free room service, where you can work until the breach is located or Mr. Ward arrives and decides differently.”
I press my hand to my stomach. “I’m a suspect?”
“Everyone’s a suspect in an incident this large. Some are simply classified as more high risk than others.”
“Do I have to agree to this?”
“You’re getting paid hourly. Why wouldn’t you agree?”
Because it’s insulting? Because it feels really bad? I grab my purse and my briefcase. “Let’s go.”
He gives me a nod and turns, expecting me to follow, and I do. We ride to the penthouse level in silence and he motions me out into the hallway, on my heels as he directs me to my left. At the door to the room, he faces me. “I need your phone, and all access outside the hotel is restricted. You can keep your computer, but Internet connections are blocked.”
I swallow the bile rising in my throat. I was wrong. Vegas is not where I’m supposed to be. This is not where I’m supposed to be. I dig out my cell and hand it to him, and I hate that my hand shakes as I do. “If you need me, call the security desk. If you need food or anything else, call the front desk.”
“Yes. Okay. Thanks.”
He swipes the key to the room and holds the door for me to enter. Once I’m inside, it shuts behind me and I lean against the hard surface, staring at what is before me. I am in the glitz and glamour of luxury, complete with a grand piano, and all I see is a prison. And all I can think is, What just happened?