“I don’t need backup.” The fewer people directly involved in the Anthony Hugo investigation, the better. When Hugo caught wind of what I was doing, I wanted his attention focused solely on me. “What I do want is the deep dive on Fund It’s partners in ten minutes,” I ordered.
“Already on your desk,” he said, smugly tossing a peanut M&M into his mouth.
It was less fun ordering people about when they’d already predicted what I needed and delivered it.
On a grunt, I left his office and headed toward mine.
“You’re welcome,” Nolan called after me.
Sometimes I wondered why I’d bothered hiring employees. They were all annoying.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Rollins,” chirped a perky redhead who looked more like she should be studying for her driver’s license test than working for one of the country’s most ruthless consulting firms.
I should have worked from home.
Holly was twenty-two years old, the mother of two, and this was what she referred to as her first “grown-up” job. She acted abominably grateful toward me as if the job and salary were personal favors I’d granted her.
It made me uncomfortable and awkward.
“Your hair is…interesting,” I said.
She turned around, giving me an unrequested view of the back of her head. Today she wore her hair in two thick braids that looked as if birds had uniformly worked their way down each one, attempting but not quite succeeding to pull them apart.
“Do you like it? It’s called bubble braids. I have a YouTube channel—”
“I don’t care,” I said.
She let out a girlish giggle. “You’re so funny, Mr. Rollins.”
“No. I’m not,” I insisted.
She waved away my statement. “I just wanted to let you know that I left a little something for you on your desk. You asked me about my lunch yesterday, so I brought you some to try.”
I hadn’t asked her about her lunch. I’d suggested she not microwave fish chowder in the break room because it made the entire office smell like the belly of a crab trawler.
“You really shouldn’t have done that.”
“It was the least I could do,” she said cheerfully.
“How thoughtful,” Petula said, reappearing at my side like an elite sniper. “Mr. Rollins will certainly enjoy your chowder for his afternoon snack.”
Holly beamed sunnily at us. “Just wait until I make you my tofu curry!”
We watched her all but skip away.
“Christ, what was I thinking hiring her?” I muttered.
“You were thinking she desperately needed a job that could support two kids. She thinks you’re a knight in shining armor,” Petula explained, opening the door to my office.
I wasn’t the knight. I was the dragon.
“Then she’s either criminally misinformed or delusional,” I muttered as I entered my space. It was designed to intimidate and impress. There was nothing homey or cozy about the glass desk, the stark white couch, the dark wood. It was formal, cold. It suited me.
“It’s not the worst thing in the world to have employees who aren’t blatantly terrified of you,” Petula said, busying herself by hitting remotes to open blinds, switching on my desk monitors, and organizing paperwork by priority while I hung my coat on the rack inside the door.
“Between Nolan and Holly, you’re going soft,” I complained.
“I insist you take back that insult, or I’ll tell everyone you cry during SPCA commercials.”
The wall of windows revealed an impressive view of DC’s business district. Most of it was still blanketed in a pristine coat of white thick enough to cover the stains and sins that happened behind closed doors in the nation’s capital.
“I prefer people to be terrified. Then they don’t try to talk to me about whatever the hell bubble braids are. And why are you so nice to her? You’re mean to everyone.”
Petula huffed. “I’m not mean. I’m efficient. Niceties are a waste of time and energy.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.”
“What do you want me to do with this?” she asked, holding up the container of homemade fish chowder.
“Throw it out the window.”
She stared me down and waited.
“Fine. Put it in my refrigerator.” I’d throw it out when I was sure I wouldn’t get caught.
“Don’t throw out the container. She’ll need it back,” Petula ordered.
Damn it.
“Anything else?” I asked with irritation.