Damage Control

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “Mr. Brandon?” I ask, and his head jerks up, his eyes fluttering a moment before they focus on me. Good gosh, is he in pain?

  “Shut the door,” he orders, and there is a hint of rasp to his voice, and for a few moments, I forget the manipulator he is and see a dying man who is also Shane’s father.

  I do as I’m told, sealing us inside together, and he motions toward the high-backed leather visitor’s chair I would have claimed anyway, but that is part of control to him, the tendency to dictate the actions of others. My stepfather was this type of person. In some ways Shane is as well, and I don’t really know why it doesn’t bother me with Brandon Senior the way it does others in most cases, but not now. Right now, Senior is still that dying man.

  Crossing the room, I sit down in front of him. “Hi,” I say, because “good morning” really doesn’t seem appropriate considering how red his cheeks are at a closer view. He’s having a bad cancer day and trying to hide it. I’m sure of it.

  “Ms. Stevens,” he says. “This conversation is going to revolve around conflicting words and actions.”

  “Obviously we’re speaking of last night.”

  “Obviously. Words and actions. Your dots do not connect.”

  My mind races, and I wonder why I haven’t practiced answers to these questions. “I know I told you he was using me…”

  “Yes. You did.”

  I quickly decide to be as honest as possible. “I consider myself a strong person, but your son. He’s a weakness.”

  “In other words, you will continue to end up in his bed.”

  “It’s not … yes.”

  He studies me with hard bloodshot eyes. “You’re aware my sons are battling for control of the company.”

  “I am.”

  “Then I assume your loyalty is to Shane.”

  “Yes,” I say. “It is.”

  More of his intense scrutiny follows. “You’re dismissed, Ms. Stevens.”

  My heart sinks. “I can still do my job. I can—”

  “Which is why I said you’re dismissed. Go get to work.”

  Apparently, it’s confirmed. I’m not fired. I’m off so easily, I’m stunned. “That’s all?” I ask. “Nothing else about me and Shane?”

  “You didn’t lie about where your loyalty lies, and therefore, I know where you stand. That’s more than I can say for most sitting outside my door or in any chair in the building. Now get to work.” He reaches for his phone.

  Confused by him letting me off without at least tormenting me a little bit, I stand and cross the office. “Close the door behind you,” he calls out as I exit to my work space, and once again, I do as commanded.

  My phone in my desk vibrates, and I hurry forward, expecting Shane. Sitting down, I open the drawer and answer. “Hello.”

  “Did you wreck the Bentley?”

  I smile at Shane’s deep voice, amazed at how it manages to do funny things to my belly no matter how many times I hear it. “I did not wreck the Bentley but I did make Jessica extremely jealous.” I’m also relieved everything seems to be okay, when I had a bad feeling about that SUV that seemed to show things were not.

  “See?” he says. “You had nothing to worry about. Did you love driving it as much as you knew you would?”

  “More,” I admit, lowering my voice. “But I was worried about you. Who was that person?”

  “No one I ever want you to know.” He changes the subject, which evidently isn’t meant for the phone. “How badly did my father jab you this morning?”

  “Honestly? It was uneventful. I’m still employed.”

  “Well the only surprising part to you still being employed is the uneventful part.” He does another change of topic. “I have a situation to handle, including a couple of meetings. I’m going to be gone most of the day. If you need to reach me, and I don’t answer, text me and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “I can’t imagine anything urgent,” I say. “It’s not like I’m going to get that phone call I’ve been waiting on and even if I do, I’m pretty sure it will be uneventful as well.”

  “Uneventful is not a bad thing.” He hesitates. “Emily.”

  “Yes?”

  “The apartment smells like you now.”

  I blink in surprise and my belly flutters. “Is that good?”

  “Distracting,” he says, clearly indicating he’s at the apartment. “But I like it. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  He ends the call and my intercom buzzes. “Come back in here, Ms. Stevens.”

  Okay. Maybe this is where uneventful turns eventful. I stand and walk into the office, to find him staring down at a document. “Door open is fine,” he says, without glancing up.

  Hoping that’s a sign this is nothing big, I cross to his desk and stand in front of it. He doesn’t look up and I start to sit. “No need to get comfortable,” he says, finally giving me his attention, those gray eyes more bloodshot now than minutes before. “There’s a team of bankers coming in to meet me at four o’clock. I’ll need refreshments and I’ll e-mail you the presentation material I want put together and bound before they arrive. And it’s time for a board meeting. Set it up for next Wednesday. You’ll find the respective company heads in your Rolodex. Tell them it’s not optional and that you can attend to appropriate travel arrangements, if necessary. And get Harvey Fitzgerald on the phone.” He goes silent and we stare at each other until he glowers and says, “Now, Ms. Stevens.”

  “Right. Yes. Of course.” I turn and rush for the door, about to exit when he says, “Ms. Stevens.”

  I face him. “Your first phone call will be to Fitzgerald, not my son to spread my business. This arrangement only amuses me until it no longer amuses me. Understand?”

  “Yes. Of course. Fitzgerald.”

  I rotate and he says, “Shut the door.”

  I shut the door and walk to my desk, not giving myself time to think of the implications of a board meeting, for fear I’ll end up booted, and be of no help to Shane in the future. Dragging the Rolodex to me, I find the contact I need for Brandon Senior and in two minutes have transferred his call to him. My mind turns to Shane and that black Escalade, the ominous feeling still weighing heavily. And what about the bankers and the board meeting? Something is going on, and I desperately want to talk to Shane about it all, but I dare not until we’re face-to-face. I mean, was that what Brandon Senior just implied? I could use my second phone, but can my brother hack it since I left him messages from it? What if he can, or did, track my call to Shane? My God. What is happening to my life?

  Brandon Senior buzzes my desk. “My son is not in. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, which is actually true.

  “Find out. I need a contract for Fitzgerald he had to approve, and yes, Ms. Stevens, you can tell him I called a board meeting. That will most certainly get his attention.”

  Bingo. I dial Shane and he doesn’t answer. I text him: Your father is looking for you. He’s calling a board meeting for Wednesday. He says he needs a Fitzgerald contract.

  He replies right away: Jessica has the contract.

  Yikes. I text: Sorry. I should have checked with her.

  He answers: Never apologize for texting me.

  I hesitate, wanting to tell him about the bankers, and he says nothing about the board meeting. I buzz Senior. “I’m going to get the contract from Jessica.”

  “Make it fast.”

  Standing, I make sure both of my phones are in my waistband. Crossing my work space and then the lobby, I enter the hallway leading to both of the Brandon brothers’ offices. Passing several offices, I reach the fork at the end, to find Derek’s secretary sitting in front of a sealed office. She doesn’t look at me and I don’t look at her. I cut left to bring Jessica’s desk into view, and I walk straight to her.

  “I need the Fitzgerald contract. Shane says you have it.”

  She offers me an envelope. “Did you talk to him? Because he won’t take my calls and I need to reach him.
”

  “I, ah…”

  She purses her lips. “You did. He has me doing something important. Call him for me.”

  “I can’t do that. You know I can’t, not if he’s not taking your calls.”

  She makes a sound resembling a growl. “Fine. I’ll handle it.”

  I soften my voice. “Senior is having a meeting at four o’clock with a group of bankers. I’m going to leave a copy of the names and documents for the meeting in the copy center for you.”

  She gives a negative shake. “They all work for the company. Leave it at security.”

  “Got it, and Shane doesn’t know about that meeting. Please don’t tell him on the phone.”

  “I am always as discreet as a wife with a sex toy she doesn’t want her husband to find out about.”

  I shake my head and actually laugh. “You are a crazy person.”

  “Who made you laugh. Glad to see you’re still around. I’ll handle the situation.”

  “Thank you.” I turn and start walking toward Derek’s office again when I have a flashback to the other night before I went to Shane’s apartment, and those terrifying moments trying to get into his office, afraid I’d be caught. I turn down the hallway, and my stomach knots. The security guard who didn’t really work here. I can’t believe I haven’t told Shane and Seth. They have so much going on. I should just reconfirm the security guard isn’t real. Maybe the guard I talked to the first time was confused. I return to my desk and consider dialing downstairs, but think better of it. I need to do everything I can in person.

  I need food for the meeting and to visit the copy center, also on the lobby level. I’ll stop by security when I’m there. Pulling up my e-mail, I find Brandon Senior’s message, and open it. There are six guests on the list and an attached document. A lightbulb goes off. The document will tell me what this meeting is about. I open it and start scrolling. There’s hedge fund data, profit reports, and data that doesn’t make clear his intent. Do bankers deal with hedge funds? Aren’t they separate? I press my fingers to my temples. I really need to study up on this stuff. I slip a data stick in my computer, load the document, and then buzz Senior.

  “Yes, Ms. Stevens?”

  “I’m going downstairs to make your copies and order refreshments. Can I bring you anything?”

  He hacks several times and then croaks out. “Yourself back to your desk setting up my board meeting.”

  “Hot tea with honey coming up,” I say, letting go of the button.

  Hurrying forward, I travel the hallway, exiting through the lobby to the elevator. The car arrives quickly and I spend the ride replaying the encounter with the security guard: I’ve just finished with the final documents, gathering all my paperwork, when I hear, “It’s late to be working alone, isn’t it?”

  I jolt at the male voice, whirling around to find a dark-haired security guard I’ve never seen before standing in the doorway. “What are you doing here?” I demand, his big body, and the empty office, hitting all of my many raw nerves.

  “I saw the light on and thought something was amiss.”

  “Just catching up on my work.”

  “I see that,” he says, eyeing the stack of files I’ve created, and with what strikes me as more interest than an outsider should have.

  “Thanks for checking on me,” I say, shutting the file I have open and scooping up the entire stack of files. “I’m fine. I’m going to leave soon.”

  “I know you think you are,” he says, “but that’s when people make mistakes.”

  My throat goes dry with what seems to be a hidden meaning. “Mistakes?”

  “They let their guard down and forget to stay alert. Case in point, we’ve had a few strange reports in the building this week, which one wouldn’t expect with our level of security. You said you’re leaving soon. Why don’t you let me walk you downstairs?”

  “Oh no,” I say, kicking myself for giving him that opening, and growing more uncomfortable by the moment. “Thank you, but ‘soon’ for me translates to the next hour or so.”

  He studies me for several more of those creepy-filled moments in which I contemplate the heel of my shoe as a weapon, before he finally gives a quick nod and says, “Be careful on your way down.” He disappears out of the door, and I have no idea what possesses me, considering he creeps me out, but I dart forward, catching him as he’s about to exit the office.

  “Excuse me,” I call out.

  He faces me, and I ask, “What strange happenings?”

  “For tenant privacy reasons, I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “I understand. What’s your name?”

  “Randy,” he says.

  “Randy,” I repeat. “Thank you, again.”

  I blink back to the present with the ding of the doors, and whisper, “But there was no Randy that fit that man’s description working that night.” Unless someone was confused, I remind myself. One of my law professors always said to double-, and even triple-check, critical details. I need to find out before I overreact and hand this to Shane and Seth on top of everything else. Exiting the car, I dash for the copy center, drop off the data, and head to the coffee shop, where the owner, Karen, a forty-something redhead with an overwhelming personality, is behind the register.

  “You’re a regular now, aren’t you, honey?”

  “I am,” I say, and I have this odd sense of being in the eye of this storm that feels ridiculously right, a sense of this being where I am meant to be. “I work for Brandon Senior.” Her eyes light and it takes me fifteen minutes to get past her infatuation with my boss to get my order of pastries, cookies, and coffees, and then I leave with Senior’s hot tea and honey. I’ve just stepped into the lobby when my cell phone rings, the ringtone that signals my brother is calling.

  I walk back into the coffee shop, claiming a seat at a wooden table huddled between free-standing product displays, freeing my hands and removing the phone from my waistband. The number is blocked, but it always is the first time I call him from a new phone. I punch the answer button.

  “Finally you call me,” I hiss softly. “I’ve needed you.”

  “I’ve been juggling a few problems here, in case you didn’t remember. RJ’s been trying to reach Cooper.”

  RJ. The one Seth called the best hacker on planet Earth, and high up in the Geminis.

  “I took a job Cooper was supposed to do and made it look like he disappeared while he was doing it.”

  I inhale and let it out. “Does that mean I can come home now?”

  “RJ hasn’t even figured out Cooper is missing yet, so no. You cannot.”

  “Does this mean you can send me money now?”

  “I’m not back in the country yet. When I return, I’ll arrange it.”

  I don’t believe him anymore, and suddenly I embrace the plan to convince him I’m somewhere I’m not. I want to protect myself from my own brother. “I left Denver. I got a job offer in New Mexico. It pays well, which is good news because I need my money.”

  “And I need to go.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “Leave me your new address when you get to New Mexico. Bye, sis.” He hangs up and I grind my teeth, immediately turning my phone off and then turning it over to remove the battery. I stick both pieces in my waistband, my mind replaying the call. He didn’t ask how I’m getting to New Mexico or where I’m going to work. He didn’t ask how my money was holding up or how I’m holding up. He didn’t ask what motivated me to leave or how I got a job in another state. Irritatingly, my eyes prickle, when my brother does not deserve my tears. I shut that down, refusing to mourn a relationship that clearly was lost a long time ago. I consider calling Shane, but I’m pretty sure that hearing his voice will turn the prickling into tears, and neither of us need me to be that weak right now. Besides, I really have nothing to tell him aside from the RJ remarks, and those still aren’t much. Or maybe they are. I don’t know. They certainly aren’t urgent and if I find out details about the security guard,
I can tell him everything at once.

  Standing, I replace the tea with a fresh one, fielding more questions I don’t want to answer from Karen while my mind is on my brother. I almost think he just wants me to go away. I’ve lost law school and I can’t touch my money. He doesn’t care and the writing is on the wall.

  I’ve lost the battle to save my brother. I’ve most likely lost law school, thanks to the Gemini connection I can never escape, but I am not losing my money too. And I’m still working for Brandon Senior’s office where I can do my part to ensure Shane doesn’t lose Brandon Enterprises.

  My mission to help Shane renewed, I head to the security booth in the front of the building, remembering the night I’d met Shane as I approach the long glossy desk. I’d lost my phone. He’d interjected and insisted the guard check the lost and found, against evening hour’s policy, promising to watch the desk for him.

  The guard rushes away, leaving me stunned at his quick departure while Shane rests an arm on the counter and faces me. “You ran away today.”

  My eyes go wide. “That’s the way to get right to the point. And for your information, I had someplace to be.”

  “You didn’t even take your coffee with you.”

  “I didn’t have time to drink it,” I say quickly, no stranger to thinking on my feet.

  “You ran,” he repeats.

  “You’re kind of intimidating,” I counter.

  Amusement lights his gray eyes. “You aren’t intimidated by me.”

  “Are you saying you are intimidating to others?” I challenge.

  “To some I am, but not to you.”

  “You base this assessment on what, exactly?”

  “Anyone intimidated wouldn’t be brave enough to say they are.” He closes the distance between us, the scent of him, autumn leaves and spice, teasing my nostrils. “Are you intimidated now?” he asks, the heat in his eyes blisteringly hot.

  “No,” I say, suddenly warm all over, when lately, everything has made me cold. “I’m not intimated.”