Page 14 of Her Daddy Valentine

“So?” His brow furrows in frustration.

“So, what?” I force my face to remain neutral, doing everything in my power to keep from smiling.

“Get your fucking checkbook out and start writing it up,” Joel hisses.

“Oh. No, I’m not going to do that.”

“What did you just say to me?” He drops the hand and sits forward in his seat, flexing his chest in some failing intimidation tactic.

Mocking a man with violent tendencies isn’t the smartest thing I could do, but damn is it fun.

“See, Joel, it would have been a reasonable assumption and I would have paid it fairly had you not stolen from our company. It’s all in this folder—proof of every transaction you made from our accounts into some offshore bank.” I slide the file over my desk to him, but he doesn’t need to look at it to know I’m right. It isn’t some smoking gun in case he comes running back with his lawyers. Valentine Group was very clear about why he was being dismissed from the start.

“Ninety-seven thousand, three-hundred and forty-two dollars, and twenty-seven cents.” I list the exact amount he stole from us. Joel’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, realizing he set up and walked into his own trap. “You can thank Victor for not wanting the bad press that comes with a trial, but your sticky fingers pocketed your severance from the day you started working here.”

“You can’t … I’ll call my lawyers, and I’ll…” he stammers, searching for a way to fight back.

“You’ll get out of my office, get in your car, and go home. You’ll put your time at Valentine Group behind you and go on doing whatever it is people in your position do. And you’ll be grateful that you were given an opportunity to move on because if you come after us, Joel, we will destroy you.”

“This isn’t the end of this, Vaughn.” Joel stands and makes his way to the door.

“For your sake, Joel, it better be.” I give him a few seconds to walk before launching out of my chair and following.

There’s no way I’m letting this psycho wander through my office unattended, especially not when Claire’s alone in her office.

8

CLAIRE

Is every day going to be this hard working here? The people are great, all kind, and very helpful, but it’s not them making it challenging. It’s my ever-increasing need to fend off excuses to see Vaughn. Walking into his office in a slow, sultry saunter. Circling his desk with the false need to give him something. Dropping what I’m holding or knocking a pen off his desk and bending over with my ass in his face to drive him crazy.

Goosebumps run over my arms at the thought alone. Knowing it will drive him crazy. That he wouldn’t be able to control himself, and his hands would graze against my legs. Travel up my skirt to my soaking core and deliver me unto a whole new world of pleasure.

Okay. It’s my second day. These thoughts will calm down. Right?

The niggling sensation in my tummy answers with a firm no. That the answer is yes, working at Valentine Group is going to be a damn near impossible task.

And yet, I can’t wait to see it through.

Three knocks come at my door, and I hop to my feet. Time to leave already? How delightful.

“Coming,” I say, turning my laptop off and grabbing my handbag. I stayed neat today, so I didn’t have to keep Vaughn waiting when he came to collect me.

My heart starts skipping in my chest as I head for the door. Excitement makes my walk feel closer to a jog. But as I grab the handle and pull it open, I nearly collapse backward at the tall, rake-thin man blocking my path out.

Wait, I recognize him. But from where? Dressed in a suit, he might be someone around the office. It’s one of the many faces I’ve seen but haven’t had the opportunity to meet in person. Another friendly soul coming to greet the new girl. But the sour look on his face dispels the notion that he stopped by to say hello.

And when it contorts into a scowl, I remember where I’ve seen this face before. In my rearview mirror, when my heart felt like imploding from fear in the creepy, empty parking lot.

Oh shit.

“Y’know, this used to be my office.” His eyes turn up to the ceiling, moving from one corner to the other. “And I was rather fond of it.”

I don’t speak. Can’t. Frozen in place like a deer in headlights, watching him slowly walk closer.

“But you had to go and take it all away from me, didn’t you?” A few seconds pass, and with each one, his nostrils flare, and his breathing intensifies. “Answer me.”

His loud voice makes me stumble back in a panic, and I nearly trip over the visitor’s chair in front of my desk. His intense green eyes stare deep into mine as if searching for something—an answer to the delusions running through his head, no doubt.

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