Evan

by Allie K. Adams

  “She’s younger, actually. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want you to have that in the back of your mind as you negotiated yet another deal costing millions. You’re on a spending spree, Mr. Duke. Is this your version of retail therapy? Some people buy things. You buy stores.”

  “Stores are still things.” He took another bite.

  “If you say so.” She stood. “I forgot the drinks. Be right back.”

  Clint grabbed his phone and checked the texts, scrolling through until he landed on a number that simply read blocked. Evan? He opened it and read the text. Can’t stop thinking about the deal.

  Which deal? The one they’d made in place of the contract, granting them one free pass in the playroom? The one they’d made last night about that not being their only time together? What about the one this morning when Evan not-so-stealthily dropped hint after hint to move Kelley’s to Pacific Place?

  He decided to keep it generic and replied with, I can’t stop thinking about it, either.

  Angela returned with two glasses of sparkling water with lime wedges and handed one to Clint. “Did I miss anything?”

  “In the two minutes since you were here? No.”

  “Someone’s grouchy. It’s going to give you worry lines. Well, deeper ones.”

  “I don’t pay you an obscene amount of money as my executive assistant to point out my flaws.”

  “No, you get that for free.” She smiled and took a bite.

  “Let’s walk through the financials again and make sure we have enough short-term capital. I’d rather not liquidate any assets to pay for this deal.”

  “You’ve already walked through the numbers. Several times.” She sipped at the water. “Are you looking for something?”

  “Maybe. I won’t know until I find it. Bring me the file.”

  “It’s already on your desk. Look to your left.”

  He lifted his arm and shook his head. “It’s not here.”

  “Your other left.”

  He was about to tell her to go find the damn file when he spotted it just to the left of the salad. Opening it, he scanned the financials, unable to put his finger on it. Something didn’t look right. “Have all accounts been balanced to the penny?”

  “You have an entire floor of accountants who’d all take offense at that question. What is it, Mr. Duke?”

  She’d never once called him by his first name. For some reason, it made him admire her that much more. Sure, they’d have fun teasing and tossing playful banter back and forth, but she never crossed the line. Ever. She treated him with dignity and respect. It made him want to be the boss she deserved.

  His phone buzzed. He shook his head to dismiss her question, wishing he had more than a gut feeling to go on. Checking the screen, he read the text. How soon can we seal the deal?

  Seal the deal? What was he, a frat boy? He wished he knew for sure it was Evan texting him from that number. “What was it you said about a meteor shower messing with the phones?”

  “The Perseids. They’re wreaking havoc on cell reception. It’s all over the news.”

  Clint didn’t watch the news. It depressed the hell out of him. He relied on Angela to give him the highlights, like a meteor shower screwing with the phones. Clint set his phone screen down on top of the file and finished his salad. “That was exactly what I needed.”

  “Would you like me to look into the financials, Mr. Duke? It’s obviously bothering you.” She cleaned the desk and straightened the files that had scattered during lunch.

  “If I knew what I was looking for.”

  A piece of paper fell to the floor, so she bent to pick it up. As she read it, the smile slid from her face. He’d never seen her in such a state of shock.

  “Angela? What is it?”

  “I think I know what we’re looking for,” she answered quietly, evenly. When she hit him with her solid focus, he snapped his brow into a frown. He didn’t like that look one bit. “And I know who can help us find it. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  “Angela, what—”

  “Stay here.” She rushed out, paper in hand.

  Like hell he’d stay, not after whatever she saw earned that type of reaction. He hurried after her and was about to ask her why when she spoke into her phone.

  “Good day, Mrs. Harrington. It’s Angela Bellows, calling from Clint Duke’s office. We met at the Seattle Art Museum. Yes, that’s right. The Troy Gua gala.” She dropped her smile. “Yes, ma’am. I did read about that. I’m so sorry to hear what happened with your sister-in-law. I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to the point. I’m hoping you can help. Mr. Duke is looking for a new CPA firm. No, everything is fine. We just feel it’s time to move on. I recall reading that your company changed firms. Would you recommend the new firm?”

  Angela’s smile returned. “You would? Yes, I’d love the number.” She copied it down. “Thank you, Mrs. Harrington.”

  “Was that Breanne Harrington, CEO of Goggles?” Clint asked after Angela ended the call. When she nodded, he went on. “Why do we need a new CPA firm?”

  “Mrs. Harrington was accused of stealing almost two million dollars from her company. She hired a forensic accountant to find the money.” She met his gaze. “He did. She changed CPA firms as a result.”

  “That’s who you’re calling?”

  She returned the phone to her ear but kept her attention on Clint. “If anyone can figure this out, it’s her forensic accountant.”

  “Why do we need a forensic accountant?” He was ready to snap, his nerves raw. He didn’t like being kept in the dark on anything, especially the financials of his own company. “Angela, answer me. What is going on?”

  “Do you know a Jefferson Duke?”

  “That was my grandfather’s name. He died before I was born. Why?”

  “Apparently he’s alive and well, and has been collecting a paycheck.” She looked at him, pausing long enough to let the meaning of that statement sink in. “Someone is stealing from you, Mr. Duke. Someone is draining your payroll account.”

  16

  “Wow.”

  Evan felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman as he walked into the lobby of Clint Duke’s building carrying the garment bag holding Clint’s tux. Since he didn’t possess a magical card that bypassed the public and shot him straight to the 37th floor via the resident elevator, he had no choice but to go through the lobby. It was exactly as GQ had described it. Three stories of granite made up an impressive fireplace with an adjacent green wall that really did look like it housed over five thousand plants.

  He didn’t know anything like this existed in Seattle. Hardwood floors with floor-to-ceiling windows trimmed in gold, this building definitely fit the image of the lifestyles of the rich and powerful. The lobby alone was bigger than the entire Farm.

  “May I help you, sir?”

  Evan spun around to see an older man in a full red bellhop uniform, little hat and all. He smiled and nodded for Evan to approach the desk tucked away on the other side of the rotunda. As he rounded the corner, he spotted another set of doors marked RESIDENTS ONLY.

  “I have a delivery for Mr. Duke.”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Duke isn’t in at the moment. You may leave the package here.”

  Evan held the Prada tux to his chest. “This is a six-thousand-dollar tuxedo. No way I’m leaving it at the desk.”

  “I’m afraid Mr. Duke doesn’t allow deliveries when he’s not in. He’s had a bad experience.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “I’m afraid you may not have heard me.” The bellhop shuffled closer and used a more forceful voice as he repeated himself. “He had a bad experience.”

  That was about as intimidating as a kitten’s hiss. Evan bit back a smile. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Yes, it was most unfortunate, but I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss the details. I keep the privacy of our tenants, well, private.”

  He held in his comment about what this be
llhop could do with his privacy. Apparently in order to get on his good side he’d need to start every sentence with I’m afraid.

  “Good evening, Tommy.”

  Evan whipped around and kept a rigid spine as Clint Duke walked into the lobby. Clint barely tossed a glance Evan’s way as he strode over to the desk with purpose.

  “Mr. Duke, this man has a delivery for you.”

  Clint continued to ignore Evan as he handed Tommy a folded up piece of paper. “I will need the following things taken care of. I trust you’ll not have any trouble following through with my request?”

  Tommy took the paper and nodded once without looking at it. “I never have let you down before, sir.”

  “That you haven’t, Tommy.” Clint then flicked his gaze to Evan. “Are you here to deliver what I asked for?”

  Evan had no idea what happened to his voice, but it disappeared, leaving him with no other choice but to lift the garment bag as his answer.

  “And the other thing?”

  What other thing? Not wanting to disappoint him, Evan nodded and made a mental note to ask about it later, in private.

  Clint lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He nodded his approval and moved to the elevator, using his card to call the cart. Without turning around, he gave his next order. “Hang my tux in the master suite.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The doors opened, and he walked inside before turning around. Dark hunger smoldered in his expression. He glanced at the concierge desk, and Evan followed his gaze to see Tommy on the phone, no doubt carrying out whatever orders Clint had written on that list. Evan turned back to Clint and sucked in a breath.

  He motioned with two fingers for Evan to join him in the elevator. Evan’s cell phone rang, and he grabbed it out of his pocket. “I’ll take the next one.”

  Clint didn’t look pleased with Evan’s answer, and his glowering glare as the doors closed told him as much. There’d be hell to pay once he got up to Clint’s suite, which both scared and thrilled him.

  In the meantime, he glanced at the number and frowned. What now? Bringing it up to his ear, he answered, “This had better be good, Meg.”

  “We have a problem.” His sister made it a habit of interrupting him at the absolute worst possible time.

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “I’m going to let it go that Walsh pulled rank and stole you from me.”

  “Considering you didn’t have the authority to enlist me in the first place.”

  “In my defense, I thought the agency would make an exception, you being a McKoy and all. Anyway, we can hash that out later. TREX found an anomaly in the financials. In record time.”

  “Why is TREX looking into his financials?” The whole point of him spying on Clint was to stop that from happening.

  “Walsh said he told you we opened an inquiry.”

  “That includes looking into his financials?” He felt sick.

  “That includes looking into everything. Evan, what we found? It’s not good.”

  “Not good as in Duke is about to get some very bad news? Or not good as in Duke Enterprises is about to declare bankruptcy?” Neither would be a good thing.

  “Not good as in someone has been syphoning money out of the company via the payroll account. That’s the one account no company ever wants to go in the hole, so most transfer large amounts to cover payroll. What’s a few hundred thousand here and there when every payroll expense is in the millions? Can you imagine what would happen if Duke Enterprises started bouncing paychecks? You’d have a mass exodus that would destroy the company’s credibility.”

  “He’d never recover,” Evan breathed as his gut clenched. This was a lot worse than he thought.

  “There’s more.”

  Shit. He glanced at the elevator, picturing Clint in the penthouse, pacing and pissed Evan hadn’t joined him already. “How much more?”

  “Angela Bellows may know about TREX.”

  Angela… Angela… “Clint’s assistant?”

  “She called one of TREX’s cover companies. Evan, she asked for TREX’s top forensic accountant by name.”

  Double shit. “Now what?”

  “You need to lock this down. I don’t care how you do it. Duke doesn’t make a single call until we can track down where that money is going. We don’t want him tipping off anyone.”

  He moved to the corner by the elevator, away from any other ears that might be listening in. “You can’t honestly believe he has anything to do with this.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time we traced it back to the top. Stay on him.”

  At any cost. “I’m at his building now delivering a tux.”

  “Stall.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t care. Get him drunk. Tie him up. Do whatever it is you’re there to do.” She made it sound like Evan had some sort of twisted idea of sex.

  That would be Clint.

  As for tying him up? That part would be Evan. Well, the receiver anyway.

  He disregarded both thoughts. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t screw this up, Evan. This is your in. There are a lot of eyes on this now. TREX doesn’t usually get involved unless it’s a matter of national security, but the money missing from Duke Enterprises is enough to fund any number of terrorist groups looking to go nuclear. It’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Terrorists? Nuclear? This just got a whole lot heavier than he ever imagined.

  “Understood.” He ended the call and tucked the phone into his inner pocket. He jabbed at the elevator call button, his mood slipping. He’d never hated being associated with TREX more than he did at that moment. Hated everything about it. He didn’t want to be forced to spy on Clint. Or have to report in to Walsh. Or even deal with any of the other residents at the Farm. He just wanted to be Evan McKoy, personal shopper at Kelley’s Department Store. He didn’t want to be under assignment to deliver recon on Clint Duke to his agency. If this was what they expected of their people, he tapped out here and now.

  Evan pushed at the button again even though it was already lit up. The sooner he delivered the tux, the sooner he’d find a way to distract Clint. His heart pounded in his ears over all the different ways they’d stay distracted for the night. He pictured the playroom and sucked in a sharp breath.

  That was exactly the distraction Clint needed.

  He blew out several breaths as the images took hold. Evan on his knees at the door, waiting for Clint to unlock it. Evan tied to the whipping bench, blindfolded, legs pried open by the spreader bar. His dick stirred at the infinite possibilities.

  The elevator doors opened, and Evan smiled as a lovely couple stepped out. The man wore a very nice-fitting blue Versace suit with delicate pinstripes. Evan immediately recognized him as the senator all over the news fighting for welfare reform. He already liked him for that fact alone.

  The woman on his arm was not Mrs. Senator. This little doe-eyed woman seemed totally out of her element as she walked by Evan, a beautiful cream-colored silk dress hugging her luscious curves. She wore a necklace and earring set that had to have cost more than Evan made in a year. Maybe two.

  “Good evening, Senator Robinson,” Tommy greeted. “Your car is waiting, and I’ve confirmed your dinner reservations. Good evening to you as well, Ms. Waverly.”

  He had to admit, Tommy knew how to impress. The man didn’t even blink as he addressed the woman, even though he had to know that wasn’t the senator’s wife. Just in the short time in the lobby, Evan had observed Tommy doing what he did best—taking care of his clients.

  He thought about that. He’d been fighting Clint every step of the way, verbally attacking him in the elevator after the bar scene, among so many other things. If the shoe were on the other foot, so to speak, Evan would have already fired him.

  He stepped into the elevator and pushed the button labeled PH, but it didn’t illuminate. He pushed it again, and still it
did nothing. Stepping back out, he spotted Tommy holding the door for the senator and his date.

  “Excuse me?”

  Tommy ignored him as he wished the couple a good evening. Evan wanted to repeat himself, this time louder, but he knew Tommy had to have heard him. It irritated him that he didn’t rate high enough to be acknowledged, and it reminded him of his ranking in life. He held no position of power and never would. He was an assistant, a spy, and—at the moment—at the mercy of an aging bellhop.

  Tommy closed the large glass door and made sure it latched. Only then did he turn and smile as he approached. His kind smile worked to melt Evan’s anger. “What is it I can do for you?”

  “That was Senator Robinson, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But that wasn’t Mrs. Robinson.”

  Tommy smiled. “Who the senator wishes to take to dinner is never of my concern. The fact he doesn’t miss his reservation is. What is it I can do for you, Mr. McKoy?”

  Evan paused, his next question floating away as he asked instead, “How did you know my name?”

  “You’re on Mr. Duke’s list. As a personal concierge for all of our permanent residents, it’s my job to learn each and every one of their names.”

  “I’m not a permanent resident.” As much as he wished he were.

  “No, but you are the personal assistant to Mr. Duke, who is our most prestigious resident.”

  “More prestigious than a senator?”

  “When he owns the building, absolutely.”

  Evan cracked a smile in disbelief and glanced around the lobby. “Clint owns the entire building?”

  “Duke Enterprises owns several buildings,” Tommy pointed out.

  “How long have you known Clint?”

  “Mr. Duke purchased his first building on his eighteenth birthday. I worked the front desk at the time. When he had this one built he requested I manage the concierge desk. I agreed.”

  Evan couldn’t even buy a pair of shoes at eighteen, yet Clint bought an entire building. Holy shit. “Why do you still call him Mr. Duke if you’ve known him for so long?”

  Tommy smiled. “It’s a sign of respect.”