On Sunday, after we’d eaten lunch, my grandmother had pressed me again about finding a partner. “Life’s short, Finn,” she’d said. “Don’t put off falling in love until it’s convenient.”
A tab on my browser is open to the DefCon forums. I click on it out of habit, and I see that Miki’s online. Her message from this morning is in a chat window. Guess what? I have an actual job interview. AT LAST! And it’s at IMPERIUM!!!!!!!!
Maybe it’s because my grandmother seems frailer than I remember, or maybe because life really is too short, I type out a response. How did the interview go, Mouse?
I shouldn’t be talking to her.
She doesn’t reply for five minutes. I feel every second of them go by. Finally, the words flash on my screen. You went missing, Merlin. I thought I’d done something wrong.
Sorry, Mouse. Work’s been crazy.
Thank you for the desk and chair. I’m sitting on it right now.
On the desk? I tease. You know you’re supposed to sit on the chair, right?
Ha, ha, everyone’s a comedian, she replies. I got the job, btw.
I smile as I picture Miki dancing around the room. Congratulations, Mouse. I’m thrilled for you.
Did you just get back from work? Let me guess. You’ve ordered a Hawaiian pizza.
Miki does not understand the appeal of my favorite toppings. Ham and pineapple for the win, Mouse. What’d you do tonight?
My friends took me out for a drink.
Are they pleased that their intervention worked?
To a point. Now they’re worried that I want to sleep with my bosses.
I sit up in my chair. She wants to sleep with us? My fingers hover over my keyboard as I figure out how to reply to that, but before I do, she chimes in. Stop freaking out; I’m not going to sleep with them. They’re out of my league, in any case.
The doorbell rings, and I get up to grab my pizza. When I get back, Oliver’s joined the conversation. I’ve just looked them up, he writes. The blond guy looks like a bear, and the other one needs to shave.
I stifle a laugh. That sounds like the pre-Claudia Oliver. I pull my phone and text him on his real number. I don’t need to shave, asshole.
That’s because you’re guys, Miki writes. Guys never think other guys are hot. Even if they do, they don’t admit it. Trust me; they’re hot.
My conscience prods me. She doesn’t know who she’s talking to, Sanders. She’ll be mortified if she discovers the truth. Isn’t it bad enough that your entire friendship is built on a lie? Do you have to double down on it?
It’s time to change the topic. Oliver must think so too, because his next message is about Imperium. When do you start?
Tomorrow, she writes. And if I don’t go to bed soon, I’ll be mainlining coffee to stay awake in the morning. And what kind of shitty first impression would that be?
I don’t want to end this moment of connection, but I should sleep too. You’re probably right. Goodnight, Mouse.
Goodnight, you two.
I stare at the screen once she types those words. She’s still online, still typing. I eat a slice of pizza while waiting for her to finish her next sentence. You don’t know someone called User0989, do you?
Oliver replies before I can. No, he writes. Who is he?
Just a random guy, she replies evasively. Listen, I should go to bed, but if you could dig around, find anything about this guy, I’d be your best friend for life.
We log off the forums, and Oliver calls me. “User0989,” he says. “Setting off any red flags?”
“All of them.” The timing is too convenient to be a coincidence. User0989 has to be related to Miki’s appearance at Imperium. I’m convinced of it. Now, we just need to figure out who this guy is.
10
You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.
Rabindranath Tagore
Miki:
I show up to work on Tuesday morning, wearing a navy blue suit I borrowed from Wendy. “Take it,” she’d said to me when I called her asking if I could raid her wardrobe. “The best part about running a construction company is that I can dress pretty casually. Besides, the little monkey has made sure that I don’t fit into any of my clothes anymore.”
The receptionist smiles at me when I identify myself. “Welcome to the team, Mackenzie,” she says warmly.
Intense relief floods through me. “Thank you.” There was a tiny part of me that couldn’t quite believe that I’d been hired by Oliver and Finn yesterday after a ten-minute interview. Not going to lie, I’d been half-prepared for the receptionist to laugh at me and send me away.
“Mr. Sanders will be down to set you up with your security access,” she continues.
That surprises me. “He’s doing what? Is that normal?”
She laughs. “Oh, Finn’s a workaholic,” she says cheerfully. She looks around and lowers her voice. “Also, a little paranoid.”
“Thank you, Pam.” Finn’s voice is dry.
Pam goes beet red, and I jump. “I didn’t hear you,” I blurt out.
So far, every time I’ve seen Finn, he’s been in a suit of some kind. Today, he’s dressed more casually. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a chocolate brown shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and best of all, he’s carrying two cups of coffee in his hands.
He hands me one. “Hello, Miki,” he says. His eyes sweep over my suit. “We’re pretty casual here. I guess Mary didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday?”
I shake my head. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“No worries,” he says easily. “I don’t start functioning until my third cup, and Oliver’s the same way. Okay, let’s get you set up.”
For the next hour, I fill out forms for insurance, get my photo taken for my employee badge and have my fingerprints scanned so I can enter the office. Finally, Finn leads me to their office.
Oliver’s nowhere to be seen. The couch is gone, and so is the round conference table. In its place is a long, rectangular desk, and four Aeron chairs.
The chairs remind me of Lancelot and Merlin, and a smile tugs at my lips. I’d stayed up much past my bedtime last night talking to them, intensely relieved that they were back online after their weekend away. How pathetic is that? The best relationships I have are with people I’ve never met in person.
“Sorry about the setup,” Finn says apologetically, bringing my attention back to the present. “We’re pretty tight on space, and it didn’t make sense to put you with the Shield team when you’re going to be working with Oliver and me directly.”
“Umm, about that,” I say, shifting my weight from one foot to another. “Exactly what will I be doing?”
“Two things,” he replies. “The first project isn’t very interesting, but it’ll be a good fit for your financial background. Lawrence Kent, our CFO, needs some help with his numbers.”
Lawrence Kent. I try to remember what the man looks like. I think he’s the one who’s got the Draco Malfoy hair and sneer. “What’s the second project?” I ask.
“I’ve decided to do a full security audit ahead of the IPO,” he says with a grin. “You’re going to be hacking into Imperium.”
Well, hell. This is not going to be good.
I have a meeting at ten in the morning with Lawrence Kent. Finn walks me over to the CFO’s office. “Where’s Oliver?” I ask as we ride the elevator down. “I haven’t seen him all morning.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back. Oliver and Finn are my bosses. I need to treat them that way. It’s none of my business where Oliver is and what he’s doing.
“Board meeting,” Finn replies succinctly. “And he won’t be in the most pleasant of moods when he gets out, so tread warily.”
Again, my mouth blurts out words before my brain can react and shut it up. “Oliver in a bad mood? I can’t picture that.”
“He’s generally a pretty cheerful guy,” Finn agrees. “Having a board of directors breathing over us is new for both Oliver and me, but we can’t go public without an independent board. It’s an adjustment for all of us.”
He stops outside a door. “And this is Lawrence’s office,” he says.
Before he can knock, the door opens. A barrel-chested man with a high forehead and slicked-back blond hair beckons us in. “Sanders,” he says, his tone hostile. “I just got off the phone with Chris. He said he’d been assigned back to Shield.”
“Yes.” Finn gestures to me. “Mackenzie Cooper just joined my team. She’s got a financial background and will be helping you out instead. Miki, this is Lawrence Kent.”
We shake hands. “Welcome aboard,” the CFO says. He turns his attention back to Finn. “Can you get Facilities to set her up in my office?” he asks as if I’m not in the room.
“Nope.” Finn seems quite happy to thwart the man’s request. “Miki will be working out of my office, and her focus will be on one of my projects. She’ll be able to dedicate a day a week to your division, no more.”
Yikes. I can cut the tension in the room with a knife. Lawrence Kent is glaring daggers at Finn. “Miki,” Finn says to me, unfazed by the other man’s irritation, “Lawrence will give you an overview of what needs to be done, and we’ll touch base this afternoon. Okay?”
Once Finn’s left, Kent waves me to a seat. “So you’re the new hire,” he says, surveying me with a dubious air. “Prescott and Sanders have a bad habit of hiring pretty faces. Hopefully, you’re qualified to do your job.”
My mouth almost falls open with disbelief. What an asshole. With difficulty, I resist the urge to say something sarcastic. “Can you tell me what you’re looking to do?”
He launches into a long-winded explanation that’s peppered with useless business jargon and remarkably light on specifics. I listen to him drone on about synergies, core competencies, and paradigm shifts, and after fifteen minutes, I don’t have the faintest idea what he wants me to do.
My attention wanders, and I glance around the office. A yellow Post-it note on Kent’s monitor catches my eye. It's got writing on it. I blink to clear my vision and look closer at it, and what I find shocks me. Lawrence Kent, the CFO of Imperium, has his passwords written down on a piece of paper where anyone entering his office can see it.
You have got to be kidding me.
So much for fingerprint scans, impenetrable firewalls, and top-of-the-line security.
All of this thwarted by a man who can't remember his passwords.
Kent has finished talking, and he gives me an expectant look. I realize that he's waiting for me to reply. "Do you have any documentation?" I ask him, stalling for time.
That's a mistake. He gives me a three-inch ring binder, stuffed with report after report. "Why don't I give you two days to read this?"
I can't get through this in two days—there's just too much information. But Kent already thinks that I am just a pretty face. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction. "That sounds good," I tell him. "I'll schedule a meeting for us on Thursday."
His sneer grows. "Are you sure you can manage?" he asks condescendingly. "Sanders did say that you're going to be pretty busy. What does he have you working on anyway?"
If Finn didn't see fit to tell his CFO about the in-depth security review, then I'm certainly not going to. Maybe playing the ditz will be an advantage after all. "I'm not sure," I say vaguely. "I didn't get a chance to ask him."
First impressions can be deceiving of course, but I really don't like Lawrence Kent.
Finn:
As soon as I leave Miki in Kent's office, I head back to my computer. It was too late last night to follow up on the User0989 lead, but I'm determined to make headway this morning.
Let's face it, Finn. You don't want to admit that Miki might be messed up in this. You like her too much.
User0989 has only been active on the DefCon forums for a month. His profile is private, and he's made no public posts. The only way I can find out anything about him is to hack into his DefCon account, but the forum’s securely encrypted and is almost impossible to penetrate.
I stare at my monitor, wondering what to do next. but fifteen minutes later, I still have no idea how to proceed.
It's time to ask for help.
One of the moderators on the DefCon forums is an old friend of mine. Boris Guzman was in juvie with me, locked up for the same reason I was. He is a fellow hacker. I haven't talked to him in over five years. The last I heard, he was helping Tibetan dissidents hide their online activity from the Chinese government.
Finding his number is relatively easy. I call him, and he picks up on the first ring. "Finn Sanders, as I live and breathe," he greets me. "What a surprise. How long has it been?"
“Five years,” I say ruefully. “Sorry about not keeping in touch.”
He laughs. “Let me guess,” he says, “you’ve been swamped with work. How’s the new company doing? I hear you’re about to go public.”
“In three months,” I reply. Oliver and I have founded four companies together since college. The first business failed. The next two were relatively successful; we were able to sell them for a few million dollars each. None of them had the potential of Imperium though. I’ve been dreaming of this moment my entire life.
“That’s awesome, Finn,” he replies sincerely. “I’m really happy for you.” His tone becomes business-like. “I assume you didn’t call me in the middle of a work day to shoot the breeze. What can I do for you?”
I don’t beat around the bush. I’m asking Boris to stick his neck out for me. “I need information on a DefCon user. User0989.”
“What the fuck, Finn?” he asks bluntly.
“I know it’s a big ask,” I reply. “Let me tell you why, and you can decide how best to proceed. Yesterday, a woman applied for a job at Imperium. Coincidentally, she’s a hacker. One of the best I’ve ever met, in fact. User0989 hired her. I want to know who he is, and what he wants.”
“So put the screws on your hacker chick,” he replies. “Threaten her with jail time if she doesn’t talk.”
I take a deep breath. “She doesn’t know who he is.”
“Are you sure?” he asks skeptically. “Can you trust her?”
Miki Cooper is at Imperium for reasons I don’t understand. I’m wary and cautious around her. But I trust Mouse. “Yes.”
He sighs. “What do you need?”
“Everything. Transcripts of every conversation User0989 had with anyone on the forum. The dates and times he logged in. The IP address he logged in from.”
“Of course you do,” he says sarcastically. “Do you want fries with that?”
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t critical, Boris.”
He doesn’t reply right away. “I’ll have to think about this, Finn,” he says finally.
It’s not the answer I hoped for, but at least he hasn’t said no right away.
11
Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.
Khalil Gibran
Oliver:
Finn thinks we need to keep an eye on Miki, and I agree. But it’s hell sharing an office with her.
It’s absolutely ridiculous to be attracted to a woman who is in all likelihood plotting to destroy my company. A woman who I’ve met only once on a memorable plane ride. A woman who is practically a stranger.
Except Miki isn’t a stranger. I’ve spent the last three months chatting with her. We’ve talked about our hopes and our dreams, our treasured memories and the things that make us happy. We’ve talked about our failed relationships. Her husband cheated on her; my wife cheated on me. We’ve both recovered from painful divorces, and we’ve both lost faith in love.
I have to keep reminding myself that she’s plotting against Imperium. I try and hold on to my anger, but especially after she asked us to find out about User0989, I can’t hate her.
It’s just after lunch on Friday. On Wednesday, Susan gave me a short list of PR firms that specialize in crisis management. ��I recommend Aventi,” she said. “They represent about two dozen soccer players, and they’ve had lots of practice dealing with drunken scandals and sex tapes.”
“Lovely,” I’d said dryly. “Sure, let’s go with them.”
I’d prefer the problem goes away entirely. Claudia likes money. If I throw enough of it in her direction, I’m hoping she’s tempted into abandoning her quest for Imperium stock. Paul Fryman has been authorized to offer her up to ten million dollars, but so far, she’s held firm and refused to negotiate.
Between Claudia and the board, I’ve been in an uncharacteristically bad mood all week.
On my way back from my lunch meeting, I detour to the coffee shop on the ground floor and pick up a couple of cups of coffee and a box of donuts. After a week of working with her, I’ve learned that Miki gets hungry and cranky in the afternoon.
Janine’s eyebrows rise as I make my way back to my office. “Donuts?”
“Yeah. Want one?”
There’s a small smile playing about her lips. Damn it. Janine is entirely too perceptive for her own good. She’s probably thinking that I’ve never brought donuts back for Finn or any of my employees. “No thanks,” she replies. “I’m on a diet. I put on ten pounds over Christmas, and it’s only three months until bikini season.”
“You know where they are if you change your mind.” Through the frosted glass window, I can see Miki’s outline. “Where’s Finn?”
She checks her computer. “He’s meeting with the Shield team,” she says. “He’ll be done in thirty minutes.”
Nodding my thanks, I push my office door open. Miki looks up. “Coffee?” I ask her, setting the cup down on the table.
An expression of gratitude flashes over her face. “Thank you,” she says. “I was just starting to slump.”
“I know.” I open the box of donuts. “I come bearing gifts.”
She grins widely. “My prince,” she says extravagantly. “Coffee and donuts. What have I done to deserve such riches?” She picks a honey-glazed donut and smiles at me warmly. “Thank you, Oliver. I lost track of time. I was starving.”
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Messing with Miki (A MFM Ménage Romance) (Playing For Love Book 5) Page 7
