KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  “There’s an article on some blog. It essentially says that as my employee, you have no choice but to go out with me.”

  She laughed. “Was it written by a woman?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard of the blog before.”

  “What’s it called?”

  I pulled out my phone and pulled the article up again. When I turned it for her to see, her eyes widened.

  “Dear Elizabeth is a popular blog around here,” she said. “I’m surprised my sister hasn’t called yet. But, again, she probably isn’t awake.”

  “Your sister reads this stuff?”

  “Lives and breathes it. It features all the gossip in the city. And my sister is something of a celebrity watcher.”

  “A lot of people read this?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stared at my phone, trying to figure out what people found fascinating about this sort of gossip. It was akin to reading the supermarket rags, a bunch of made up stories that had very little foundation in the truth.

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Put my lawyer on it, I suppose.”

  Joanne bent to take the chocolate cakes out of the oven. She set them to cool on the counter and slid the orange cakes into the oven in their place. I sat on the same stool that guy had been sitting on Friday night when I came to pick her up—Rahul. What kind of name was that, anyway? And why was he around her so much? I’d known her five days and already I’d seen him in her presence twice.

  “What can your lawyer do?”

  I looked up, a little too lost in thought to follow the conversation. I had to mentally shake myself to get back on track.

  “Force them to take it down.”

  “But, by then, most people will already have seen it. My sister gets an alert every time there’s a new story, so I’m sure most of Dear Elizabeth’s readers do, too.”

  “But if she’s forced to take it down, people will realize it wasn’t true.”

  “Or Elizabeth will put up another story that claims she was the victim in the whole thing. She’s done it before.”

  “Has she?”

  “There was a story on there a couple of months ago about a local politician. The story disappeared a few days later, but then there was a new story about how certain politicians don’t mind suppressing the right to free speech, but claim to be great supporters of the constitution. No names were used, so nothing could be done. But everyone knew who she was talking about.”

  Joanne leaned against the counter and studied my face. “Maybe you should just ignore this one. Maybe the storm will pass quicker that way.”

  “Maybe.”

  She straightened again and grabbed a couple of bowls that had been sitting in the dish drainer and started cracking eggs into one.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I have three yellow cakes I need to make for an order due to go out Tuesday morning.”

  “Can I help?”

  “Do you know how to bake?”

  I shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

  She laughed, but she gestured for me to don the apron hanging from a nail in the corner of the room. I picked it up and groaned.

  “Seriously?”

  It was one of those funny aprons with the imprint of a woman in a French maid’s outfit on the front.

  “My sister thinks it’s hilarious.”

  “Wait until she sees me in it.”

  “Awe, I think you’re beautiful.”

  I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my arms. “And I think you’re pretty awesome.”

  She smiled, and I couldn’t help but wipe that smile away with a very thorough kiss.

  She taught me how to sift flour, how to measure out baking soda, and explained why salt was important even in baking. And I managed to get yellow cake batter all over the front of my apron—breasts splattered in sweetness is wonderful when it’s not plastic replicas—and when she laughed, I managed to smear it over the end of her nose.

  I’d never had quite so much fun in the kitchen.

  Chapter 21

  Joey

  I expected some curiosity when I walked into work on Monday. What I got was gawking.

  I stopped in the break room on my way to my cubicle, filling a coffee cup to the brim with hot coffee. Jason spent the night at my place last night, and we did just about everything but sleep. When he left, somewhat reluctantly, a little before dawn, my bed suddenly felt huge and very empty. Sleep was no longer an option.

  I thought about him as I showered; I thought about the way he touched me, the way he made me laugh when he really didn’t mean to, the way it felt when he held me in his arms, cradling me against him like I was something precious to his life.

  I hadn’t wanted the night to end.

  “I guess I don’t have to ask what you did over the weekend,” Lesley said, as I slid into my chair.

  I smiled. “Did you see the spread in the Times?”

  “You look good in blue.”

  “He bought that for me.”

  Lesley came around the barriers between our two cubicles and leaned against my desk. “How long have you been seeing him?”

  “Since Wednesday.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  Lesley pulled her phone out of her pocket and handed it to me once she’d pulled up what she wanted.

  “I suppose if I’d jumped out of a cake, he might have fallen right into bed with me, too.”

  There was another picture of Jason and me, one of us leaving the party Friday night. I was staring up at him as he was helping me into the limo. I didn’t even realize there was a photographer nearby at that point. I guess I’d just gotten used to the flash of their cameras.

  The headline said:

  Jason Brooks Meets New Lover When She Jumps Out of Cake for Him!

  The article basically stated that I was inside a cake someone had given Jason for his birthday and that we ended up in bed almost the moment I popped out. It implied that I was chosen because I was his type and he’d been too busy lately to find his own women. Like the person who paid for the cake and the birthday telegram was a pimp procuring sex for him.

  I felt like I needed a shower after reading it.

  “Is that really all it took to get him in bed?”

  My face began to burn.

  “It wasn’t like that, Lesley.”

  “Yeah, well, you certainly aren’t the person I always assumed you were.”

  She got up and went back to her own cubicle without saying another word.

  Moments later, Mrs. Constantine did her regular check, making sure we were all at our desks as we were supposed to be. When she came to my cubicle, she paused. “I’d like to see you in my office, Ms. Forman.”

  I immediately stood and followed her back down the hallway. The last time I’d gone to her office like this, I was hauled away by the police to answer questions. I had no idea what would be at the end of this particular walk.

  She pushed open her door and motioned for me to go inside. Then she came around her desk, leaving the door open.

  “I understand that you were helping with the investigation into some missing money?”

  “The police just had a few questions.”

  Mrs. Constantine pressed her fingers together, making a teepee of them, as many men do when they’re concentrating. I tried not to look as nervous as I felt.

  “We’ve had multiple complaints about your behavior recently, Ms. Forman. And I have no idea who might have been involved in this theft and who wasn’t. So, I’m afraid, I must take certain actions to ensure that our department is sound.”

  I inclined my head slightly. “I understand that Mr. Brooks—”

  “Please don’t pretend you know something about the management of this company because you have a personal relationship with the CEO.”

  I felt my face begin to burn. Mrs. Constan
tine seemed to take small consolation from that fact.

  “You’re fired, Ms. Forman. Please collect your things and leave the premises.”

  “You can’t fire me.”

  “I can—and I just did.” She smiled softly. “You’re more than welcome to go upstairs and speak to upper management about this, but I believe Mr. Brooks is in a meeting with the DA at the moment.”

  I just nodded. What more could I do.

  I went back to my desk and grabbed a few personal photos that were sitting on the desk and a hole punch I brought from home. A year and that was pretty much the extent of my “things.”

  I could feel people watching me as I walked toward the elevators. Even Lesley. Even though I knew I would never be able to work here again no matter what happened next—no one would trust me—I was sad. I’d liked working here.

  And I liked the big paychecks.

  Chapter 22

  Jason

  “Both parties have agreed to the plea deal.”

  “Five years’ probation and retribution.”

  The DA, a tall woman with thick, black hair, nodded. “We feel it’s a suitable punishment for the crime. One of the men never even saw any of the money.”

  I nodded. “Works for me.”

  “The only problem we see is that Mr. Thomas claims it will take time for him to be able to cut a check. We’ve given him a month. After that time, we will reevaluate the situation and see where we stand.”

  “If he doesn’t return the money by then?”

  “He will have gone back on the plea deal and we will proceed to court.”

  Shelly and walked out of the office a few minutes later. She was looking at her phone, scrolling through God knew what. It seemed she was always on her phone, even more so than I was. I didn’t think much of it. In fact, I was a little busy thinking about Joanne. So, when she stopped and mumbled something quite unladylike under her voice, I looked sharply at her.

  “You’re not going to like this,” she said.

  “What?”

  She turned her phone around so that I could see the screen. It was another of those blog posts. This one was about Joanne jumping out of a cake for me on my birthday.

  “Shit,” I hissed under my breath.

  I had my own phone out as I walked out of the building, my brother’s number dialed.

  “Have you seen this gossip blog?” he asked me as he answered the phone.

  “Who else knew about the cake besides you and Sara?”

  “The company I hired. The girl and her bodyguard.”

  “Who is talking?”

  “I don’t know, brother,” Justin said. “But, is it really that big of a deal? It’s just a blog, for goodness sakes.”

  “It’s a blog that millions of people read.”

  “Millions of people who unlikely include Mom and Dad’s friends, so who cares?”

  “I care. Joanne cares.”

  “Is that what this is about? That girl? You can’t tell me that this isn’t more than a fling.”

  I hung up rather than risk losing my temper. Then I called my lawyer.

  I’d had enough of this crap.

  We got back to the office, and there were a dozen applicants for the creative supervisor’s job waiting in the lobby. A few of them tried to stop me on the way to the elevator. I made note of those and had Shelly strike them from the list. I didn’t need someone who thought they were above the rest of the applicants.

  Interviews were not my favorite thing. I normally left this sort of thing to the head of human resources. But with everything that had been going on lately, that no longer seemed like a good idea.

  Half dozen interviews later and I was beginning to rethink my choices.

  “This is ridiculous,” I said to Shelly. “None of these people seem to have a single idea what it is I’m trying to do here. And the rest seem to resent my desire to be involved in the changes in the department.”

  “It’s not unusual to have to dig through crap to find a diamond.”

  I just shook my head again, even if the image Shelly had conjured was quite amusing.

  Another couple more interviews and I was ready to concentrate on something else.

  “Why don’t you send up the supervisors from accounting? I should discuss the changes I want to make down there with them as soon as possible.”

  “What about the other applicants?”

  “Tell them to come back after lunch.”

  I settled back behind my desk, wondering if Joanne would mind if I called downstairs and invited her up for lunch. She was worried about how the others would respond to our sort of public coming out on Friday. If I invited her upstairs, it could go two ways. Either people would finally understand and stop whispering about her behind her back, or it would just make the gossip worse. Either way, I didn’t really care. I wanted to see her.

  I picked up the phone, but Shelly was back at my door.

  “One more applicant. She’s insisting that you see her now because she doesn’t have time to come back later.”

  I groaned, but I told her to show the woman in. I guess I’d just have to call Joanne later.

  And I was kind of glad I had decided to go ahead and see her. She was a graduate of Georgetown, and she had an extensive background in management. None of the other applicants knew half of what I was talking about when I asked questions, but this woman did. And some of her ideas were brilliant.

  “The creative teams should have less access to the clients. A supervising team should deal with the clients, leaving the creative people more time to be creative. That’s the way it’s done in larger companies, a division between administrative work and creative work.”

  “And what about the client’s needs. How does the creative team know exactly what the client wants if they don’t meet?”

  “Oh, they’ll meet. But only after most of the administrative stuff is out of the way. It’s like going to the doctor. You deal almost exclusively with the office staff before you even see the doctor. That way all the business stuff is out of the way and the doctor only needs to deal with the health side of things.”

  It wasn’t mind boggling, but it made a hell of a lot of sense.

  We talked for quite a while, forcing the accounting staff to wait much longer than I intended for them to, but it only seemed fair. All this mess had taken me away from my own business for the better part of a week now. Make them wait.

  I finally shook the applicant’s hand and walked her to the door.

  “I will call you as soon as a decision is made, Ms. Walters.”

  She smiled up at me. “You personally? Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

  I smiled, not one to ignore a bit of good flirting. But my mind was already floating back to Joanne as I turned and focused on the three supervisors who were waiting for my attention.

  Lunch. Food. Good company.

  I was looking forward to it.

  “Goodbye, Ms. Walters.”

  Shelly moved up beside me as I turned back into my office.

  “Mrs. Constantine was wondering if she could have a moment of your time before you speak to the others.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t think it’ll make any difference. But show her in.”

  I settled back into my office chair and flipped through the emails on my phone as I waited. There was a text, and I was about to click it when the door opened. A tall, dark woman with a severe expression on her face came into the room.

  “Mr. Brooks,” she said, her tone just as severe as her face.

  “How can I help you?”

  “I wanted to make sure you understand why I took the action I did this morning. There has been a lot going on in our department these last few weeks, and I thought it would be best to get ahead of it now, before things could get any worse.”

  “What things would that be?”

  “I believe there have been thefts from our department using a flaw in the software. And, I believe, that you are aware of this.”


  “I am.” I frowned as I studied her face, interested now in what she had to say. “How long have you been aware?”

  She shook her head. “Just a few days. I spoke with Ms. Forman, and she informed me of what you’d asked her to look at here in your office last week. From that, I put two and two together.”

  I nodded, remembering how easy it had seemed for Joanne, too. She explained it to me as if I should have understood, too, but I didn’t. All I knew was that there was a fault in our accounting software—and that was enough to allow Frank to take advantage of the lack of oversight in that department. That was going to change. That was why I’d asked this woman—what was her name again?—and her fellow supervisors up to my office.

  “This morning’s actions were a proactive response to that information. I thought you’d want to reorganize things, remove potential threats.”

  “Action? What action?”

  “As acting head of accounting, I fired Ms. Forman.”

  I sat back, shock taking the breath out of my lungs for a moment.

  “I realize there is some sort of relationship between you and Ms. Forman,” she continued, as though I’d not reacted at all, “but I felt that the risk to the company was too great. She understood the flaw. She could have done something very similar to what Mr. Thomas had done.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  The woman shrugged. “Of course.”

  “Who made you acting head of accounting?”

  She looked baffled for a moment. “Well, I am the assistant director. So, naturally, I just assumed…”

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you should never assume anything?”

  Before she could respond, I gestured toward the door as if I was chastising a bad pet.

  “Get out.”

  “But, Mr. Brooks, you told me you would—”

  “If you really wanted to head off a theft, you should have stopped Frank Thomas from stealing thousands over the last six months.” I stood, nearly knocking over my chair as I did. “Get the hell out of my office.”

  She was clearly flustered, her face beet red as she stared at me. But she did stand and start for the door.

  “And tell the rest of those idiots out there that you’re all fired. Every damn one of you should have seen what was happening. Every one of you should have done something to stop it. So, you’re gone. I’m done with this incompetent bullshit!”