Page 11 of Sinful Attraction

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that. I just mean try to have a little fun. You’re usually a ray of goddamn sunshine, man. You need to work on getting past this Arya thing.”

“I’ll work on it.” But I can’t. I’ve already figured that part out.

I end up leaving the party early. I don’t want to offend anyone, so I stick around until some of the guests start to leave. Then, I say my goodbyes and head up to my suite.

Holy shit, parties are exhausting when you’re not in a good mood. I suddenly understand why people dealing with depression tend to white-knuckle their way through social events. I’m definitely ready to sleep off some of that wine by the time I get to my room.

I strip down to my shorts and T-shirt and lie down, only to find myself staring at the ceiling again. The guilt’s weighing me down, making my mind race and keeping me from properly resting.

I make the attempt anyway, closing my eyes, breathing deeply, and even managing to meditate a little. Sleep, though, seems to elude me no matter what I do. My thoughts never fully still. The guilt never fully goes away. And neither does my anger at myself, at my father, at his feud with the Castelluccis... at my own bad luck.

Maybe I could have found a way around all of this. Maybe I could have taken the L and just let Arya win this one. Right now, I feel like a dumbass kid who still jumps whenever his father barks an order.

I log on to handle the money transfer before the exhaustion fogs my brain too much. I just want to get it over with and then immerse myself in a book until I can sleep.

The money’s there waiting in the account I had targeted last night. No complications, nothing weird. I make the transfer.I’ll check in ten minutes to make sure it hit the account all right.

I sit back, massaging my temples. I should be proud of my cleverness, but all I can see are the consequences I didn’t want to cause.

I do a little Internet browsing, shop for a few Christmas gifts, and then go back and check the balance on the destination account. The transfer hasn’t hit yet. That’s strange.

I check the source account. The money’s shown as transferred. I check the destination account. Still no money.

Don’t panic. Sometimes, these things take a few minutes.

But my gut is suddenly curdling, like every drop of the wine I had drunk turned into vinegar. My heart is pounding.

I know. I don’t believe it, I can’t believe it, I don’t want to think it’s real—but I know.

Someone has grabbed the cash right out from under me, just the same as I did from Arya.

I stare at my screen and refresh it a few times. My stomach is boiling.

Someone just fucking robbed us!

I quickly text my father, knowing I’m neck deep in shit and have to bring him in on this as fast as possible. Otherwise, it will be his boot up my ass later.

The grandfather clock in my father’s office ticks toward the hour. Is it midnight or one? I can’t see it from this angle, and I don’t want to check my watch. All I want right now is to give my father answers that will satisfy him so I can go to bed and mourn my battered pride.

“So, what you’re saying is that somebody broke into our network, did the exact same thing to you that you did to the Castelluccis, and then made off with our five million. That’s the story you’re sticking to.”

“That is definitely the story that I’m sticking to, at least until I have evidence to the contrary. But all the sleuthing work I havedone so far says that whoever this is stole Arya’s money and her idea right out from under us.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Michael, how could you let this happen?” he snaps.

“I’ll get the money back,” I burst out. “I’ll fix all of this. I just have to find out—”

He slams his fist down on his desk, making his drink jump and the ice cubes in it rattle. “You had fucking well better, Michael. Because if I find out that you willingly screwed this up to cut that Arya woman a break—”

“How does this cut her a break? She doesn’t have the money either!”

That calms him down a little. “So, she didn’t steal it back?”

“I’ll double-check it, but unless she’s got a spy on our staff, there’s no way she would have known when we were making the transfer. Someone must have been monitoring me the same way I was monitoring Arya.”

“How the hell could anyone manage that?” he demands. “I thought you made sure the system was secure!”

“That won’t prevent social engineering. If she put someone on our staff as a spy the same way we did to the Castelluccis, they would have inside access to our network.”

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