Sleeping With My Boss: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Billionaire Romance Love Story) (A Dirty Office Romance) (65 page)

Miss
Frost,

If
you're reading this, it means something has gone wrong with the research and I
am not there to tell you this in person. This message was released because I
haven't signed into the server in 72-hours and I've set up a series of files
that will be released at random intervals until the time that I do return or
until the last file has been released. The files I will be sending you contain
all of the data that has been generated as I've conducted research on SAI 1. I
would like you to store it in a safe place so that when I return, I will be
able to continue my research. I can't tell you any more than this right now and
I would ask that you not read through the data, but instead find a safe place
to store it and wait for me to return.

This
information is strictly confidential and should not be shared with anyone at
TriCorp under any circumstances. Not anyone. I am counting on you to do what
you've always done for me; the best job possible.

Regards,

Dr.
Alan Powell

I stared at my
screen feeling like I'd seen a ghost, and in a way, I had. I quickly realized
that I was going to have to find a way to get this email off the server and put
it somewhere safe. Not only that, but I was going to have to find a way to
divert my email to a new account so that I could receive the rest of Dr. Powell's
messages. He hadn't counted on me getting fired so soon after his death.

I looked up at the
clock and realized I didn't have much time before Butch would be coming to
escort me out of the building. There was no way I could write enough code to
shift my account off the server to another location, so I looked at the email
program and began quickly coding a bug that would allow me to sneak past the
company's firewall from my laptop and access the data. If I could install the
bug now, then I could get the information from Dr. Powell as I worked on
writing code that would let me shift everything completely off the server
later. The only danger was if the bug was found before I could finish writing
and installing the code. If that happened, then access would be completely cut
off and I'd have to find another way to enter the system. I told myself not to
create problems before they happened and got to work setting up the bug.

I finished writing
the tiny little program and installing it just as the hands on the clock told
me it was time to get going. I pulled my laptop out of my bag, opened the case
and logged into my TriCorp account using the dummy account I'd set up on the
desktop. The bug had worked and I was able to sneak past the company's security
walls to get into the server. I quickly downloaded the first email onto my
laptop and then snapped the case shut. I didn't want anyone to see me working
on my laptop and raise suspicion about what I was doing.

I deleted the
email from the desktop computer and logged out of the company's website for the
last time before I pulled all of my personal effects from the desk and shoved
them in the box that Ruth had given me on the way out of Mr. Baines's office. I
double checked Dr. Powell's office and noticed that his copy of
The Art of War
was lying in the middle
of the floor. I picked it up and tossed it in my box uncertain why, but feeling
like it was important.

Then I returned to
my desk, picked up my things and took one last look around the office that had
been my professional home for the past six years. It was a terrible way to
leave, but what other choice did I have?

"You ready,
Echo?" Butch said quietly. I simply nodded as I tried hard not to let the
tears fall. "It's okay, kiddo. You'll be fine. I just know it."

"Thanks,
Butch," I said as I swallowed hard and waited for the elevator doors to
open. Once on the ground floor, I set the box down and gave Butch a hug before
heading out to hail a cab.

Something at
TriCorp was very wrong, and I needed to find Ryan and ask him about it.

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Ryan

I
hopped the subway up to 42
nd
 
and Lexington and
arrived thirty minute early for my appointment, so I walked down 42
nd
 
and found a small hardware store where I had a
set of keys made from the ones that Echo had given me. I marveled at her
willingness to share space with me given the fact that I'd come close to really
hurting her in my sleep. I knew it wasn't my fault, but the nightmares scared
me. Maybe she was right, and maybe I needed to talk to someone.

I paid for the
keys and walked back over to the lawyer's office. I took the elevator up to the
thirtieth floor and got out in front of a huge glass wall that had Gates,
Weller and Markham, LLC. etched in it. I told the secretary who I was and
watched her precisely sculpted eyebrow go up as she said, "I didn't know
Dr. Powell had a son!"

"I'm the
black sheep of the family," I winked as I wondered why this news was
surprising to her.

"I see,"
she chuckled. "I'll tell Mr. Weller that you're here, Mr. Powell."

A little while
later, another impeccably dressed young woman came out into the waiting area
and called my name. She led me back to a large conference room that looked out
over Grand Central Station and the Met Life Building. I politely refused her
offer of coffee or tea, and sat down at the table.

My phone vibrated
in my pocket and when I pulled it out, I found a message from Echo:

Got
fired. On my way back to the apartment. Something strange going on. Meet me
ASAP.

I started to reply
when Jack Weller entered the room and said in a booming voice, "Well, I'll
be damned! If it isn't Ryan Powell!"

He held out his
hand and pumped mine up and down as he repeated how surprised was to see me. I
had no idea what he was talking about, but I smiled and played along. My SEAL
training had taught me that at least half the game was simply looking like I
belonged.

"I'm so sorry
about your father," Weller said looking genuinely sad. "It's a
tragedy to lose someone so brilliant and productive."

"Yes, it most
certainly is," I said watching him closely. He was dressed in a way that
looked vaguely familiar. He was wearing an expensive tailor made suit, large
gold rings on several fingers, and his slicked back hair reminded me of the
Sopranos.

"And your
father, of course," he quickly added.

"Of
course," I replied.

"So, how can
I help you, Ryan?" Weller asked. He'd come in with a stack of papers that
he'd set down and pushed to the side when he'd first come in, but now was
inching them closer as he waited for me to tell him what I needed.

"For
starters, I'm concerned about where my father's body is," I said.

"Where is
it?" he asked.

"That's just
it, I have no idea," I replied as I felt my phone vibrate again. I had the
urge to pull it out and check to see if Echo had sent me information that I
could use, but instead I waited for Weller to give me an answer.

"I believe
he's been transferred to the Blake and Sons Funeral Home in SoHo, per the
wishes of your stepmother," he said pulling a sheet out of the stack and
looking at it. "Yes, here it is."

"He didn't
want a funeral," I said.

"Mrs. Powell
said that she'd decided to have Blake and Sons handle the cremation," he
said as he quickly scanned the sheet and pushed it across the table for me to
see. It indicated that my father's body was to be delivered today and cremated
tomorrow. The bottom of the sheet had been signed by the person named as the
executor, but I couldn't read the signature.

"Who is
this?" I asked pointing to the signed line.

"That's the
executor your father named in his will," Weller said.

"And who is
it?" I asked.

"His business
partner, Julian Baines," Weller said after consulting another sheet in the
stack.

"Wait,
what?" I said doing a double take as I looked more closely at the
cremation order. It looked like it had been signed and dated the day my father
died. "Julian Baines is my father's executor not me or Eva?"

"It seems
that your father appointed him in 1983 and never altered his will," Weller
said as he pushed forward more documents.

"This isn't
right," I said looking at the signatures on the sheets in front of me.
"He could not have appointed Julian to take care of his personal business.
That doesn't make sense."

"It makes
more sense than you might think, Ryan," he said. The way he spoke to me
like I was a child was starting to get on my nerves. "Often times people
will appoint business partners or associates to be executors of a will because
they are close enough to the deceased to look out for their interests, but they
aren't grieving the way that family members often do. It's often easier for
them to make decisions that are too painful for the family to make."

"But my
father knew I would take care of things for him," I murmured as I studied
the papers in front of me. "This doesn't make sense."

"I think your
father knew that it was possible that you might not be around to take care of
this, Ryan," he said gently.

"Goddamnit,
don't talk to me like I'm a child!" I shouted. "My father chose his
business partner over me to ensure that his affairs were taken care of, that's
the bottom line. So what do I need to do?"

"There's
nothing for you to do right now," he said as he looked over a checklist of
things that needed to be done. "Your father's will is in probate until a
judge can verify that it's authentic and that the assets are, indeed,
his."

"If you have
to verify authenticity, then why is Julian allowed to function as
executor?" I asked. Suddenly I wondered what Weller's investment in this
was.

"Your father
and Mr. Baines signed the paperwork naming Baines as executor separate from the
will," he said. "That's not in question, only the will itself."

"I see,"
I said. This all sounded fishy to me, and with the foreclosure on the
apartment, I wondered what was going on. "Then I need to check with Mr.
Baines about my father's body?"

"Yes,
exactly!" Weller cheered as if excited that I had grasped a difficult
concept.

"What about
his accounts? How is Eva going to live, if she has no money?" I said
avoiding mentioning the fact that I had no place to live.

"Mrs. Powell
has been well taken care of," Weller said. "I assure you that she
will not want for anything while the will is being moved through the probate
system."

"Very
well," I said. "Is there anything else I need to know about my
father's will? I don't want any surprises."

"Well, I'm
not sure how to tell you this, Mr. Powell," he said looking nervously at
the sheet in his hand. "But you've been disinherited."

"What?"
I was stunned by this news.

"Your father
eliminated you from his will when he married Mrs. Powell, it seems," he said
as he pushed another paper toward me. I looked at it and immediately knew
something was fishy, but I said nothing.

"I see,"
I nodded. "Well, I guess those are the breaks, aren't they, Mr.
Weller?"

The surprised look
on Weller's face was worth the struggle to keep my emotions in check. I wanted
to throttle the guy and make him tell me what was really going on, but I knew
that this was something larger and that if I played my hand now, I'd never get
the information I needed to make it right.

"Well, win some
lose some, right, Mr. Weller?" I shrugged. "I guess I'm going to have
to check in with Eva and see what I can do to get something from her."

"That sounds
like a solid plan," Weller nodded looking relieved that I wasn't going to
push the issue. "If there's any way I can help you, please don't hesitate
to let me know."

"Oh, I
won't," I said as I shook his hand and held his gaze. "I definitely
won't."

As I left the
office, I thought about how I was going to deal with the problem of my father's
will. None of this was adding up, but I didn't have enough pieces to put the
whole puzzle together. As I stepped off of the elevator and headed across the
lobby, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I stepped out into the warm afternoon
sunshine and checked it. There were four messages. The first one said
"Meet me downstairs at Nemo's" and the other three read: "Come
home now. Urgent."

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Echo

I
took a cab back
to my apartment before I remembered that I'd given Ryan my keys. I texted him
from the cab and told him that I'd gotten fired and was headed home. Aside from
the fact that I had no job, I was glad that I'd gotten out of there. In the three
days since Dr. Powell's death, it had become obvious to me that the only reason
I enjoyed working at TriCorp was because he was my boss.

We pulled up in
front of my building and after I'd paid the driver, I hauled my things into
Nemo's. They'd just opened up for the early lunch crowd, and I grabbed a table
in the back and set my stuff down. Mando came out from the back with a
questioning look on his face.

"I got
fired," I said gesturing at the box and bags.

"What the
hell?" he said. "What happened?"

"My boss died
and the guy in charge is convinced that I'm hiding something," I said.
Mando looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

"Your boss
died and his boss thinks you're doing something illegal?" he asked.

"Well, I
might be," I grinned. "Now."

"Do I even
want to know any of this?" he laughed.

"Not unless
you want to be called as a material witness in a trial," I said.

"Then don't
tell me anything except why you are camping out here instead of going up to
your apartment," he said.

"I gave my
keys to the guy who is staying with me because I thought he'd be back before
me," I said.

"You've got a
boyfriend now?" he asked as a wounded look crossed his face. We'd been
down this road a couple of times and while I'd been perfectly clear about the
fact that we were not going to wind up as anything more than just friends, Cece
told me that Mando harbored fantasy thoughts of sweeping me off my feet and
riding off into the sunset.

"No, not a
boyfriend, just a friend staying with me," I said. I didn't want to
encourage him, but he was my friend and I wasn't going to lie to him.

"How did you
meet this friend?" he asked.

"What is
this, twenty questions with Mando?" I laughed as I lightly slugged his
shoulder.

"I'm just
looking out for you, Echo," he said looking at me very seriously.
"New York is a dangerous city and I don't like the idea of a stranger
staying in your apartment."

"It's okay,
Mando," I said as I soothed his bruised feelings. "He's my boss's
son, and he's a Navy SEAL. He's honorable. I promise."

"A Navy SEAL,
no shit?" Mando said shaking his head. "Wait, if his dad was your
boss, why doesn't he have a place of his own to stay?"

"Long
story," I said. "Can I get something to eat while I wait for him to
get back and then I'll introduce you guys?"

"I'm not sure
I want to meet the Navy SEAL sleeping in your apartment," he grumbled as
he walked back to the kitchen to fix me a plate. I knew he was half acting the
hurt feelings and that he understood why I would take a complete stranger into
my home. He and Cece had done the same thing a million times, and I was one of
the beneficiaries of their largesse.

I moved my box to
the floor and took a seat at the table facing the door. If Ryan came in, I
wanted him to be able to see me right away. I picked up my phone and texted him
to meet me at Nemo's when he got back. Then I pulled out my laptop and began
working on the project I'd begun before I left TriCorp.

It wasn't that I
wanted to hack into their system and do any damage; I just wanted to retain my
ability to get email from their server. So, I checked the bug I'd left and
found that it had maintained the open space in the server just the way I'd
intended; however, there was a good chance that it would be recognized by the
IT department when they did a sweep, so I set to work coding a hiding place
that they'd be unlikely to find.

With that taken
care of, I went back to the original message from Dr. Powell. I re-read it
several times and I understood his instructions as asking me to hold the files
until he could safely retrieve them, but now I wondered whether I should open
up the attached file since we already knew he was dead. I wavered until Mando
brought my food, and then I set the computer aside to eat. Mando sat with me as
I declared my lunch the best lunch he'd ever made and then smiling, he returned
to the kitchen to prep for the lunch rush.

I pulled out the
computer and flipped through the email one more time, and this time I saw
something I'd previously missed. There was a small link underneath Dr. Powell's
signature on the note he'd written to me. I hadn't seen it before because it
was white lettering on a white background. I clicked the link and watched as my
computer quickly opened a browser tab. When I saw what was on the page, I picked
up my phone and began urgently texting Ryan every ten minutes saying: Come home
now. Urgent.