~Joan~
I clenched my teeth as Denzel’s eyes followed Joan’s swaying hips. She was doing it on purpose, probably to piss me off. Well… she’d pay for it later, but not now. Now, I needed my assistant to stop gawking at her like a lovesick puppy.
I paused. Joan was my girl. Girl? The thought hit me hard. I was being possessive, no doubt about it, but the idea of her cozying up to some other guy whenever our deal was off, sparked something raw in me. Something I wasn’t ready to name.
I didn’t know what to do about it, so I let it slide for now. It’d resolve itself when the time came.
“Oh my God, she’s pretty,” Denzel muttered, his gaze reluctantly shifting back to me. “Really-” He stopped mid-sentence when he caught my expression. Whatever he saw there got the message across loud and clear.
He cleared his throat awkwardly. Good.
“Had no idea she’s yours,” he mumbled before crashing into the chair opposite me. I raised a brow, watching him.
Okay. My relationship with Denzel had shifted. What was once strictly boss-and-employee now blurred into something closer to friendship-but not close enough for him to forget his place.
“Got any news for me yet?” I asked, placing my hands firmly on the desk, a subtle move to remind him of our relationship.
I was his boss and he was my employee. Seems like he got the message as his face instantly turned serious. He tapped the file on the desk before sliding it across to me.
“Tracing the IP address wasn’t easy. Signals kept bouncing back. Whoever sent the message knows what they’re doing and covered their tracks well,” he explained as I flipped through the papers.
“But,” he added, leaning forward slightly, “I managed to dig up something. A name. It’s not much, but it’s a lead. We can start digging into it and see where it takes us.”
I frowned as my eyes landed on the name scrawled across the page.
“Daggerlord?” I asked, glancing up at him.
He nodded. “Yeah. Doesn’t sound like your average hacker, right? More like someone tied to… well, something bigger.”
Something bigger. The name alone felt wrong. It sounded like it belonged to a mafia boss or a shadowy syndicate.
“Yeah,” I muttered, my jaw tightening.
“I got in touch with Adrian,” he said and I nodded.
“He promised to put his team on it?”
Denzel straightened his tie, and I wondered what’s with him and the tie. “Yes. He’s already looping in some guys who might have connections to underground networks.”
My mind churned with possibilities. Whoever had sent that message to Joan knew her well-too well. And if this “Daggerlord” was involved, she could probably be in real danger.
“Okay. We’re going to look into everyone she’s had contact with recently,” I said, locking eyes with Denzel.
“She?” he asked, his curiosity breaking through his professionalism. “This is all for a woman?”
My glare shut him up before he could dig further. Amusement flickered in his expression, but he didn’t push his luck.
“Starting with her workplace. Joan doesn’t need to know we’re doing this,” I added, my tone leaving no room for argument.
Denzel pursed his lips, like he was weighing the weight of whatever he had to say.
It was bad enough as it stands that he knew it was Joan.
Q”I’ll take care of it,” he finally said.
“Good,” I replied, leaning back slightly. “And tell Adrian I want updates as soon as he gets anything.”
Adrian was the COO of the company, managing the branch we had in Seattle
Denzel nodded and stood, adjusting his tie again as he made his way to the door.
“Denzel?” I called after him. He paused, turning with a raised brow.
“Stay away from Joan,” I said flatly.
A slow smirk spread across his face as he gave me a mock salute. “No promises, Mr. Thompson. Have a great day.”
Son of a bitch.
I sank back into my chair, focusing on the file again. I combed through every detail, rereading the same lines over and over, trying to make sense of the mess.
What was the connection of Daggerlord to Joan? What did they know about her parents?
The text mentioned something about her father being a murderer, how true was that?
There was still a lot I have to know.
An hour later, my phone rang. The name on the screen made me sigh. Rhoda.
“Hey, bro,” came her familiar, warm voice. I leaned back, rubbing my chin.
“Rhoda. How are you doing?” I asked, though I already knew she was probably calling for a favor.
“Oh, you know, just thought I’d call since you’ve totally forgotten about me,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
I huffed. “You know that’s not true.”
She paused, her voice softening. “I know.”
Something about her tone set off warning bells in my head.
“Okay, why are you calling?” I asked, cutting to the chase.
She laughed nervously. “Well, I wanted to see if I could use your house for my birthday party next week. And before you say no, remember-you owe me. Big time.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Of course. She wanted to turn my house into ground zero for her chaotic little group of friends.
“No,” I said firmly.
“Aaron, come on!” she groaned. “Just this once! I promise it won’t happen again.”
“Rhoda, this is my house we’re talking about here,” I said, trying to ignore the mental image of glitter and spilled drinks.
And quite a handful of drunk women, naked butts and people making out in my house.
Ew, disgusting.
She pouted. I couldn’t see her, but I could feel it.
“Fine,” I relented, “but on one condition.”
She cheered, cutting me off before I could explain. “I agree to whatever it is!”
I smirked. If only she knew. “Joan isn’t invited.”
Silence. Then, the exaggerated groan of a sibling defeated.