Page 111 of Isabela

Last week, we found an offshore account with enough money in it to pay our employees their back wages, and the board decided to refuse to take a paycheck until we were solvent again. I had to hold back tears of gratitude, because I didn’t think the stodgy old men would agree to this.

Now, we’re busy taking care of new clients, and I’m calling all of my uncle’s past clients to tell them we can no longer take their business. The society dropped both the mayor and my uncle’s bodies off in shady areas of the city after my press conference before calling in anonymous tips to the police.

It’s been an overwhelming experience as I’ve thrown myself into the company’s day to day management.

“Where’s Elijah, little girl?” Mr. Kilar Jones asks. I don’t believe this is his real name, but I’m surprised he hasn’t heard the news about my uncle’s death.

“I’m sorry to inform you that my uncle is dead,” I say professionally. “Now that I have formally taken over along with my guardian, we are going in a different direction with the clients that we are taking on from now on.”

Clients who we aren’t laundering money for while my uncle takes an extra cut of the profits.

“I want proof of his death,” Kilar snarls.

“The police have all the proof you’d need, Mr. Jones. They found his body three weeks ago,” I tell him. “Do you have any other questions or concerns for me?”

I’m two seconds from hanging up on him and moving to the next call I have to make. Uncle Eli had twelve clients he was laundering money for. Fucking disgusting.

“Why won’t you offer the same service I had with Elijah?” he asks.

“We are moving our company back into being fully legitimate,” I say. “I wasn’t aware of the services he was providing until I was told, while he beat me half to death.”

“Shit,” he curses.

“I want to move as far away from anything my uncle has ever done, as quickly as possible. Good day,” I mutter, hanging up.

An hour later, my head is pounding and I need to print out some of the financial statements to show the board for our next meeting tomorrow. Of course, as I hit print, my printer complains that it needs paper, making me sigh heavily. I kind of wish I had an assistant, but won’t be able to hire one until the company is doing better.

Standing, I decide to walk to the stockroom to get printer paper so I can move on with my day. The only reason I’m doing this at all is because I need a break from dangerous, angry mafia types who think threatening me will change my mind. I’m done being pushed around by people.

Picking up my phone, I shoot Gael a message because I haven’t spoken to him all day. My body remembers all the delicious sex we’ve been having, making me shiver. I gave up my apartment, I’m living full time with Gael and Aria, and really loving it.

I’m adulting and firing dangerous clients today. Somehow I didn’t see this as part of the adulting package. Can I get a refund?

Smirking, I watch the bubbles as Gael starts and stops messaging me before he sends it.

Growly Daddy: I didn’t expect ‘badass brat’ making an appearance today, Little One. Give a guy a little warning. Let them down easily, though, I think I’m going to add a guard to your floor. Love you.

Even a few weeks ago, he would have held on too tightly, worried too much about me. He’s learning to let me fly, though an extra guard may not be a bad idea.

Me: I would be happy to accept the guard. Love you, Daddy.

Growly Daddy: I love you more.

Dropping the phone on the desk, I move around it, walking out the door into the hallway. Harrison just moved to Phoenix last week and is working full time out of an office at the company.

He has investments that take care of themselves, and said he was bored, so this is helping him fill his time. I feel a little bad for being responsible for Laurene’s exile, but the girl has no clue when to stop.

Popping my head into his office, I wave when I see him on the phone. He hits the mute button, grinning as he sees me.

“Are you hungry yet?” he asks.

As if to remind me that I haven’t eaten since lunch, my stomach growls. I have been working longer days here, and it’s almost four in the afternoon.

“Starving,” I admit. “I’ve been on the phone all day, and am headed to the stock room to grab more printer paper.”

“We both need body doubles or assistants,” he teases me. “I’ll come find you after I finish this call to go grab a snack and coffee. I want to hear about your calls. Gael texted me to tell me I may want an update.”

He clicks off the mute button before I can respond, beginning to speak as if he had never stepped away. Shaking my head, I nod to show I heard him and step away to find the stockroom.

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