Roll Against Regret (3d20)

by Allyson Lindt

  “I’m fine.” He rolled his neck, smile not masking his grimace. “I had a golf date with a prospective client today. Last minute, this afternoon. I think I pulled something in my neck.”

  “Sit.” I knelt on a cushion and patted the spot next to me. After the day I had, it would be easy to give him crap for whining about having to spend the afternoon in the sun. But he didn’t like golf, he wasn’t actually complaining, and my bad day shouldn’t be his.

  He positioned himself with his back to me, and I kneaded his neck and shoulders. He tilted his head forward with a happy groan. “You’re an angel, Pixie.”

  The nickname was as comforting as the comment. Though neither of us spoke for several minutes, it was reassuring.

  He reached back, grasped my hands, and pulled them forward. “Much better, thank you.”

  I draped my arms over his shoulders, slid into a sitting position, and pulled him back into me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “We already covered that. I forgave you.”

  He shook his head. “I mean for last night.”

  Did he have regrets? My doubt and confusion from earlier flooded back, free to roam now that I was in a safe place. Stupid feeling of security.

  “Hear me out.” His sharp words interrupted my thoughts before they could gain momentum. “Last night was amazingly… Wow. I didn’t know it could be that good. I don’t mind sharing you, if you want to do that again. But what I said about you choosing—about me being okay with you going back to Carter over me? I’m not ever giving you up without a fight. I love you too much for that.” The gravelly possession in his words warmed me more than I thought possible.

  “I meant it when I said I’d already chosen.”

  He grasped my hands in his and held them in the middle of his chest. “I know. But you needed to hear that from me anyway.”

  He was right. I did. We shifted positions until I was leaning against him. Elders, I was tired. And for the first time since Sunday night, I felt like everything was right with the world.

  “Still”—Jackson’s single word threatened to shatter my calm—“it’s kind of a shame Dark is Carter. If he were just Dark, I wouldn’t mind seeing what else we could get up to. If you wanted.”

  My eyes snapped wide open, exhaustion evaporating. Why did that statement wreak havoc on my entire body?

  Chapter Twelve

  Seeing Mark’s door closed and his office light off the next morning filled me with giddiness. If there was an audit, he’d probably spend most of the day schmoozing with Zedophap representatives, instead of finding new ways to screw with the rest of us.

  I still had deadlines, but the looming dark cloud of work that had been there all week felt lighter with him distracted otherwise. I shuffled through the messy stack of paperwork from last night’s cram session, straightening it out. I should probably put that back in order, in case Mark decided he wanted some additional kind of proof I’d done my work.

  First, I fired off an email to Ryan, thanking him again and telling him I owed him and his friends lunch for ruining their night—he just had to name the time and place.

  His reply arrived a few minutes later. We’ll figure it out. Did you see those notes I made on the contracts versus invoicing last night? Nothing big. Thought you should take a look.

  Weird. I shuffled through the paperwork, found the pages Ryan was talking about, and then pulled up the corresponding documents. He was right. At a glance, it wasn’t a big deal. Contracts had been archived with different dollar amounts on them than on the invoices, but they’d been adjusted since.

  Except—I clicked through a few more cells in the spreadsheet—it wasn’t that simple after all. Something wasn’t right.

  I heard rolling-chair wheels and the squeak of a seat, but it was background noise. I clicked through cells and pulled up additional invoices. There were a lot more than a normal project would involve, but that was because Zedophap had continuously upgraded along the way, adding more new features every couple of weeks.

  Right?

  “What are we looking at?” Carter’s question startled me.

  My heart hammered into my throat, and I laughed at my own skittishness. I gave him my attention. The night before, with Jackson, made it easier to push aside my gut response to Carter, but it didn’t completely erase the desire that thrummed under my skin and kept my pulse racing even after the startled feeling faded. “Training you, unless you’re swooping away to another kick-off meeting or some other glamorous thing.” My curiosity about the files would have to wait.

  “And next up on the docket is whatever has you so engrossed?”

  I needed time to sort things out on my own. No reason to drag Carter down with me, if this was another nail in my job’s coffin. “Nope. Probably making sure I answer any questions you have about yesterday.”

  “Zoe.” Carter’s sharp tone made me spin the rest of the way and meet his gaze. He kept his voice low. “You know you still can’t lie to save your life. Don’t you?”

  I was seriously never-ever, ever again working with a guy I’d dated. “I was working late last night, cleaning up some files for today’s Zedophap audit. Found some unusual stuff I need to revisit later.”

  “You should have called me. I would have come back after my meeting.”

  Jackson’s jealousy flashed through my mind. “No. I couldn’t have. Leave it. Please?”

  Carter clenched his jaw and slid his chair back a few inches. “You’re doing a good job of being vague about this considering it’s something I’m supposed to be learning. What’s going on?”

  I nodded at the few files I had open on my screen, and scooted out of the way for him to look. “Tell me what you think of these. No context, beyond what you already know.”

  I wasn’t trying to trick him. Carter had always been analytical, picking things apart ad infinitum. If there was something there, something that might trigger the auditors’ suspicions, I hoped he’d see it too. More, though, I wanted it to just be my imagination. To be able to put this document mess behind me and move on to the next obstacle.

  He flipped back and forth several times, without saying a word. Seconds ticked into minutes, and my uneasiness grew. There was nothing there, was there? He’d already decided it was clean, and was making sure I wasn’t testing his knowledge?

  He pushed back several feet, and stood. “I need caffeine. Is it too early to take a walk down to the gas station?”

  A couple blocks from the office, there was a convenience store a lot of us used as an excuse when we needed a short break. At least he was learning his way around quickly. The idea calmed me. I liked that Carter fit in so easily.

  That didn’t make his sudden request any less odd, though. “Let’s go,” I said anyway.

  Neither of us spoke until we were outside and had cleared the parking lot. No one else was in earshot when Carter said, “What was I looking at? You saw something. What was it?”

  He could have asked me that inside, if it were nothing. I hadn’t imagined it. “Someone’s embezzling money and using a bad string of record keeping on the Zedophap project, to cover their tracks.”

  “So I didn’t imagine it.”

  I would have been amused Carter’s words echoed my thoughts so closely, but the situation had sapped my humor.

  “That explains why we’re being audited.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “Which is why I need you to review your notes from yesterday. I’m not trying to brush you off. I need to focus on this.”

  He grabbed my arm and spun me to a stop, so I was facing him. I inhaled sharply through my teeth at the arousal flooding me. A half-formed smirk twitched into place on his face and then disappeared. “Why would I let you tackle this alone?”

  It took concentration to keep my voice steady. “I asked for a second opinion. I appreciate you giving me one. It wasn’t an invitation, though. You’re not familiar with the business. Even if I wasn’t worried about taking
other people down with me, if this goes bad, you don’t know enough to help me root this out.”

  He dropped my arm. “I knew enough to give you a second opinion.”

  “The answer’s no.” I couldn’t budge on this.

  “God damn it. You never used to be this stubborn.”

  The words sparked an irritation I hadn’t know was there. “I don't know how many more ways I can tell you. I'm not that person. I'm not the Zoe I was five years ago.”

  “I know you're not. I see it in everything you do and say. You've... ‘Changed’ isn't the right word. You've grown. You're not my Zoe anymore; you're Jackson's Pixie. Except you're not. You're your own person. Amazing. Strong. Standing on your own.”

  The acknowledgment warmed me, but it didn’t solve any problems. “Then why do you keep doing this? Why do you keep comparing me to her?”

  He turned away and started walking toward the gas station again. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I do worry about it, Carter”—I felt like stomping in the middle of the sidewalk—“Because you’re not stopping.”

  He tilted his head back, as if only the sky had answers for him. “I keep doing it, because that Zoe loved me. I don’t even know if this one likes me very much.”

  “I l—” My response choked off. I’d been about to say ‘like,’ right? “I like you just fine.”

  He clenched his jaw and looked at me again. “Then let me help. I’m a second set of eyes. I don’t know what I don’t know when it comes to the policy structure here. You need to have an answer before the auditors find this, and two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  “No.” I turned away. “Go back to your desk, work on your new client, and learn your job. Don’t touch mine.” I didn’t want to shut him out, but the alternative wouldn’t work. I’d relax, I’d let him in, and then we’d be back to awkwardness and jealousy and petty arguments about the past in the middle of gas-station parking lots, when things like jobs were on the line.

  “What if I dig into things on my own?”

  “I can’t stop you. But it doesn’t change my decision or win you any points. Or fix anything.” I didn’t stay to hear his answer. I was already walking back to the office, struggling to keep myself from feeling anything.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took the last of my restraint to keep the conversation with Carter from playing on a loop in my head. I settled back into my desk and pulled up the Zedophap files. I wouldn’t linger on what I’d just done. There was no reason to admit I’d turned down help I really could have used, because I still struggled with my past.

  I swallowed all of the doubt and immersed myself in research. Carter came back about fifteen minutes later. He didn’t look in my direction, but he did approach Ryan, introduce himself, and ask if Ryan was available to answer questions if needed.

  Ryan sent me an IM, asking what the deal was with my trainee going somewhere else. I ignored it, not sure what to say.

  I hadn’t even been at what I was doing for half an hour, before my phone rang. I grabbed it, but didn’t recognize the extension. “This is Zoe.”

  “Ms. Sutton, this is Greg Oliver. Will you join me and the other internal auditors in conference room I-32?”

  My stomach dropped to my shoes. “Of course. Do I need to bring anything?”

  “Just yourself, Ms. Sutton.”

  “I’ll be right there.” As soon as I could force my legs to work and get back the thought in my brain. This was status quo, right? I’d never been through an audit before, but they were probably talking to everyone involved in the project. It didn’t mean anything that Mark hadn’t warned me. I forced my feet one in front of the other toward the room number provided.

  When I got there, the room was lit, despite there being a projector on. Two men and a woman sat at the far end of the oblong table, paperwork spread out around them. All three heads swiveled in my direction when I hesitated in the doorway. The man in the middle stood. “Ms. Sutton, I’m Greg Oliver. Close the door and have a seat anywhere, please.”

  He was probably the same age as me, but his posture and flat expression made it difficult to tell. I swallowed, but the lump in my throat refused to go away. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I took the seat at the far end of the table from them. Nowhere seemed appropriate, but it was closest.

  “Ms. Sutton, is it true you’re currently the responsible party for document control, in regards to the Zedophap contract?”

  “Yes.” I noticed he didn’t bother introducing his colleagues. Was that significant, or just their means of being efficient? All three made notes as I spoke, none of their expressions shifting. It gave me the impression I was on trial.

  “Thank you. And can you explain why almost every single digital document related to that account has been accessed in the last twenty-four hours?”

  These were standard questions. They had to be. Of course they’d want to know that information. I collected my thoughts as neatly and quickly as I could, and explained it had been in preparation for the audit. From there, the questions flowed into an explanation of how I’d verified versions; why Ryan’s log-in information was on several of the files, when he’d previously been removed from the project for incompetence; how the file structure had gotten to be a mess in the first place; and everything in between.

  I was half surprised they didn’t ask what I’d had for breakfast that morning, and if it had impacted my decision to keep the Zedophap files up to date.

  It was almost two hours later, when Mr. Oliver finally nodded at the door. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Sutton. You may go now.”

  I gave my polite goodbyes and shuffled back to my desk. I felt like I’d just been wrung out. How could something as simple as answering a series of questions leave me so exhausted? The journey back to my desk took me past Carter. From the corner of my eye, I saw him swivel his head toward me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. The last thing I was up for right now was another conversation. With anyone. About anything. But especially with him. My filters were all but gone, and odds were too high I’d say something I couldn’t take back.

  I managed to get back into my research, though at this point I wasn’t sure why I tried. The auditors would find it or they wouldn’t. I’d explained myself—did it even matter what I uncovered? The clock crept toward noon, and I’d never been so relieved for lunch time approaching.

  I was about to wrap up everything and take a much needed break, when my phone rang again. This time I recognized the extension as belonging to one of the women in human resources. “This is Zoe.”

  “Hi, Zoe. This is Jennifer. Do you have a minute to talk to me, in my office?”

  “Of course.” My hand shook when I cradled the phone. This was nothing. Just like the auditor’s questions. Nothing at all. I kept a brisk pace across the building. The faster I got this over with, the faster I’d know nothing was wrong. This was about… I didn’t know. Something normal and ordinary.

  The bottom fell out of my world when I saw Mark Kitner leaning against the windowsill behind Jennifer, who sat at her desk. A loud buzzing grew in my ears, and my head spun, as they asked me once again to close the door and have a seat.

  The next fifteen minutes were the most surreal of my life. Jennifer explained they were letting me go. Kitner added I was lucky it wasn’t worse. The auditors had concerns about my numbers, but there was no reason to believe I was responsible for anything. Jennifer took back over and told me I shouldn’t expect legal ramifications if I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I should be aware it was being considered.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what I said, but I forced myself to be polite. I wouldn’t be the person who screamed and raged about being fired, despite the voice in my head insisting this wasn’t fair. I signed termination paperwork, shook both their hands, and didn’t miss Mark’s smirk when he wished me good luck with my career.

  A security guard waited outside Jennifer’s office. My face burned hot as he walked me
back to my desk—my former desk. My computer had already been turned off, and a box sat next to everything else. I was allowed to take anything obviously mine. The reference books. The picture of Jackson and the two stuffed wizards he’d given me to watch over me at work.

  I had to leave all the paperwork behind. Every eye in the room had to be on me. As security escorted me toward the door, Carter rose from his desk. I shot him a look. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to convey beyond don’t, but he had to have gotten the message. He frowned and sank back into his seat. The guard stayed by my side until I was in my car, and even then waited for me to pull out of the parking lot. I finally saw him head back into the building in my rear view mirror.

  The numbness evaporated as I left the property. I didn’t even make it as far as the gas station, before tears flowed down my cheeks. I pulled into the same parking lot I’d argued in with Carter hours earlier, found the furthest spot from the road, and shut off my engine. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. They wracked my body, until my chest ached and I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like it had been the best job in the world, but I had done it right, and the thanks I got was to be dumped at the front step and humiliated.

  My crying finally slowed, and I managed to wipe most of the tears away. I sent Jackson a short text, not trusting myself to call him. I was fired. I almost broke when I swiped out the short note.

  Ten minutes later, I pulled into my building’s parking lot and dragged myself up to my place. My apartment had always felt lonely to me. A place I went to sleep when I wasn’t with Jackson, and to grab fresh clothes when the need arose. It never felt this empty before, though. I sank into an easy chair, tucked my legs under me, and stared at the wall. The tears were gone. The only thing left was dry eyes and an empty hole in my chest, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring into nothing. I’d intentionally avoided the clock and stashed my phone out of reach, because I wanted to feel the blankness and live in it. A bit of me knew it was melodramatic, but that was fine with me.