Page 118 of Due Diligence

Finally, I removed myself from his grasp and I sat up so I could stare at him. “Of course I know that—I know all this. Marcus, what the hell happened?”

“This is the only time I’m going to say this to you ever,” he said gravely as he looked up at me. “And I need you to trust me, Cass. I can’t tell you what happened. It’s not because I don’t want to or because you wouldn’t be able to help me. I want to tell you so bad.So bad. But I can’t. So just trust me when I say, I don’t want to talk about it with you.”

Wordlessly, I nodded before I pulled him into my arms, cradling his head against my chest. We stayed in that position for minutes—maybe much longer—until we both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 32: Marcus

It was a lost weekend. I dragged myself home in the early hours on Saturday morning to feed Frank and Sammy and ended up sleeping through most of the weekend. I had countless texts and messages from Alex. I didn’t return a single one.

I called in sick on Monday morning, unable to go back to Libra. I didn’t know what to think—I didn’t know how to face anyone on staff and to let them know it would all soon crumble beneath us, like a precipice crashing into the waves below.

The deal.

The company.

Their goddamnjobs.

I couldn’t believe I let it get that far—that I didn’t realize what was happening until now. The transactions went backyears.

For so long, I had convinced myself I was the reason Libra was the half-billion-dollar engine-that-could. Alex was a visionary, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself, but I was the secret sauce. I was the one person who knew how to navigatehis bravado and volatility. I could take his brilliant mess and package it into something clean, streamlined, and powerful.

I thought it was what I was born to do. A kid born into foster care, shy and sensitive, who overcame bullying and self-doubt. I thought I had weathered enough storms to take on anything. Few people had the experiences I did, coupled with the smarts and the competence, to transform myself from a kid to a business savant in just ten years.

That was naïveté at its finest. I was so, so wrong.

On Tuesday, I returned to the office with a single goal:Don’t let anyone figure it out.The nausea persisted throughout the day, churning in my stomach as I remained in the fishbowl, earbuds in and listening to music while the staff went about their business on the other side of the glass walls.

Cass didn’t press the issue, as I requested, but I could feel her concern mounting. And when the staff went home for the day, I remained at that table and continued to stare at my laptop screen—at the questionable ledger entries, wondering what would happen first. The exposure was inevitable: either one of the auditors would flag the documents, or I would crack under the unfamiliar pressure of keeping a secret.

Cass remained in the office with me, even at the late hour. She never asked why we were still sitting there, hours after the sun had set and the staff were long gone. The janitor came and went. Most of the office was dark. We just stayed there, both of us working in silence.

It must have been around nine when she got up, walked around the table, and took a seat in the chair to my left. She stared at me, her expression rife with concern. I looked back, taking in the familiar brown of her irises. My eyes drifted along her delicate features—that perfect mouth with those plump lips I loved to kiss, that freckle just a centimeter away, her sun kissedskin. She was stunning. She was mine. But somehow I felt like I had betrayed her as well.

Her hand rested on my knee, the first contact between us since Saturday morning when I shamefully dragged myself out of her bed. At once, I felt my chest swell. My heart started to pound and that indescribable prickle began to rise in my arms.

Fuck, I was starting to tear up. I couldn’t let her see that. Immediately, I turned away from her and tried to cover my face with my hand, hoping to keep the tears at bay. It became harder when she rose out of her seat to hug me.

She moved into my lap and put her arms around me, cradling my head as I buried my face against her breasts. I felt a tear move onto my cheek and I let out a sigh that broke into a sob. I hadn’t cried in years—not since thatVanity Fairarticle. I didn’t mind crying. Dr. Jensen encouraged it, actually. But nothing had felt so weighty for so long.

Her lips brushed the top of my head, kissing my hair. She clutched me tighter, rocking against me and whispering soothing words as she let me cry into her chest. Minutes passed. She brought her hands up to my cheeks and encouraged me to look at her. When our eyes met, she used her thumbs to brush away the remnants of tears on my skin.

Cass lowered her mouth to mine and she kissed me, urging me to kiss her back. I did, letting the warmth of her lips set in. My body relaxed and the tension slowly left me. I curled my arms around her and held her close, covering her—letting her know I never wanted her to leave.

We stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped in each other’s arms and kissing softly until the tears had long stopped. I could breathe again, indebted to the comfort of her embrace.

And then I saw it.

There in the back corner, I just barely caught a glimpse of the door to the office’s back-exit closing.

***

I was standing outside of Alex’s front door when he opened it to leave for work. I had been standing there for over an hour, trying to build up the nerve to knock. I never got there.

His eyebrow ticked upwards when he registered I had been waiting. He scanned me up and down once before his gaze settled on my face. After a long pause, he tilted his head to the side and pulled his lips down into a tacit expression of acknowledgment.

“Didn’t think you were the type,” he finally said.

“Sure you did,” I answered. When I spoke, my voice came out labored and crackly. Exhausted.

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