Page 121 of Exposé

"No need. I don't want to incon—"

"I insist." He reached his hand out and ushered me out of his office, my stomach flipping with nausea—each step beside him was like walking on a razor’s edge.

I clutched the notepad, the corners biting into my palm.

The front desk came into view, and Margaret sat behind it, fiddling with paperwork on the surface.

Where's Nate?

Did he leave me?

Why the hell didn't he tell me the Mayor was coming?

"Margaret, I found Ms. Thatcher in my office... alone. Haven't I explicitly mentioned in the past that no one is allowed to enter without my permission?"

"I'm so sorry." Her gaze darted to mine, my shoulders falling in. "She wasn't in there but for a minute."

"No one..."

I slipped away from his light but controlling hold. "I'm sorry to cause any trouble. I really do need to get my story written."

Speed walking, I hit the office doors.

"We'll discuss this another time, Ms. Thatcher."

The Mayor's booming voice followed me out the door, my heart trying to escape through my throat.

Oh my God.

I did it.

The cool air outside hit my face like a sobering, sharp slap. My pulse pounded in my ears as I hurried to the car, the weight of what I’d done pressing against my chest like a boulder.

I'm going to prison.

Or worse... Hell.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I exhaled a held breath and placed my phone in the console next to Nate, his posture tense. "Oh good, he didn't catch you."

"No thanks to you."

"Sorry, by the time I saw him, it was too late to send a text. I didn't want your phone to ding in his office and draw attention."

I glared and tossed my bag into the back seat, my pounding heart choking out my lungs.

“Did he see you near the safe?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I was under the chair when he came in.”

Nate’s eyes locked onto mine, dark and searching. “Under the chair? Why?”

My eye twitched in time with my bobbing knee, my hand rubbing the residual ache. "I dropped my notebook."

Nate snagged my phone and flipped through the photos. "This doesn't look like much."

"Most of it was routine financial documentation—ledgers, transaction logs, and receipts. At least, that was what I thought at first glance." I pointed to a photo as he scrolled, then tookthe phone from his hand. "I'm going to be going over this information for weeks. Look at this. Senator Blackwell, Mayor Fitz in Tampa, Keith Brent... Hey..." I glared as he pulled the phone away, his eyes widening. "You okay?"

He nodded, the look vanishing without a trace. "Yeah, surprised is all. This is a lot of known people." He handed me back the phone. "But these could be for anything."

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