Page 62 of For The Record

“Fine, I just never noticed.” I set down the bag on my desk and open it. “Do you want to share lunch with me?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to ‘compromise the investigation.’”

Her air quotes irritate me, especially after reading Mark’s transcript. “Who said that to you?”

“Nobody.” Her shoulders sag and she tugs on the music note charm, pinching it between her fingers like she wants to pull it off. “The HR guy was just saying it to everybody after you left.”

“Dinner tonight?” I offer her.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know how long we’ll be at the office. As you said, this investigation could take a while.”

I know and understand and even accept all her reasons for refusing me, yet I can’t help but feel like she’s letting me go. Like she’s watching me sink into this downward spiral and doesn’t want any part of my life because of it.

“Alright, then.” I take out a pair of chopsticks from the bag. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“Wait, Leo…” She steps closer, kissing my cheek. The scent of vanilla and orchids tickles my nose. “I’m here for you. You know that?”

“I know.”

“Is that Mark’s transcript?” She nudges at the trash can with the toe of her loafer.

“Yes,” I say slowly, trying to figure out where she’s going with her questioning when she’s just said that she doesn’t want to compromise the investigation. “I would feel bad about firing him… His mom has cancer,” she says.

A sob story.“Hmm.”

“What?” Her head snaps up, eyes meeting mine.

“That’s interesting, is all. Back to work for both of us, then. I’ll see you later.”

#

The investigation takes three days. Three days where everyone is on edge, walking on eggshells around me, waiting for me to lash out or fire them. Finally, Beckett Anderson hands me the final transcript to review. I promise him a bonus for dealing with all of this hassle. He gives me a half-hearted warning about dating subordinates, and we part ways. Someone - God, whoever - must be smiling down on me as I review the interviews. It was Mark Leong.

“Mark Leong here to see you,” Annabelle says through the intercom, bright and early on Thursday morning.

“Send him in, please,” I say. Moments later, the door opens, and I stand. “Please, have a seat.”

“I think I’ll stand,” he says, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. I open a curtain and he winces at the bright light like he’s hungover. “I know why I’m here.”

“Because you deliberately leaked a song to Alina Rostova, allowing her to share it with Naoya Sugawa,” I say. “As well as forging Ryder Black’s signature on a contract that allowed you to sell the song to Naoya and profit off of it. Sabotaging one of the employees at Volume Records and showing blatant disrespect for this company and its artists is not allowed. You’re fired.”

“What?” His mouth hangs open for a moment before he recovers. “And here, I thought you were firing me for insulting your girlfriend.”

“That’s an HR infraction and I don’t make such petty decisions,” I say. “Your comments about Skye Holland didn’t pertain to the case, so I didn’t include them in the termination of your employment here. Would you like me to?”

Mark shakes his head. “All I wanted was a raise.”

“Well, congratulations. You got the opposite. Crime doesn’t pay and all that jazz.”

Throwing back his head, Mark laughs. “You know, Alina was right about you when she made those accusations. You do cultivate a ‘hostile workplace environment.’”

“Better than telling sob stories to your coworkers in order to manipulate them,” I say. “Your mom doesn’t have cancer, does she?”

He blanches. “Skye told you?”

“I have my sources.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Leo. I’m done here.”

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