Page 4 of Silence and Surrender

“Problems with the paperwork?”

I looked up to find Moreau in my office doorway. His presence was impossible to ignore, as much as I wanted to.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” I closed the manifest files quickly. Something about those discrepancies bothered me, but I wasn’t about to give him more ammunition to use against me.

He moved into my office uninvited, glancing at the stack of papers spread across my desk. “The seller’s documentation?”

“Being finalized.”

“That’s not what I asked.” He picked up a shipping form, and I resisted the urge to snatch it back. “Interesting routing.”

“Standard for pieces of this value.”

“Through Rotterdam?” His eyes met mine. “When Frankfurt would be more direct?”

“The seller’s preference.”

“The seller who won’t provide complete paperwork.”

I stood up from behind my desk, annoyed by how he made me feel small even in my highest heels. “Do you actually need something, Mr. Moreau? Or are you just here to question my judgment again?”

He set the paper down with precise movements. Everything about him was precise, from his haircut, his words and his carefully controlled strength. It was maddening.

“I’m here because the compliance team is asking questions about our recent acquisitions. Questions I can’t answer because the documentation is...creative.”

“Our acquisitions are legitimate.”

“Prove it.” He leaned against my desk, too close. “Explain to me why I shouldn’t recommend terminating your pet project.”

“Pet project?” I stepped out from behind my desk now, my anger making me reckless as I raised my voice. “The acquisitions the board is funding will make the bank millions in the next ten years. But you’d rather follow procedures than seize opportunities.”

“I’d rather not have the regulatory authorities questioning our methods.”

“No, you’d rather question mine.” I snatched the shipping manifest from his hand. “I don’t need you micromanaging my division just because you’ve decided to become some kind of corporate enforcer.”

His eyes narrowed, eyebrows pulling together. “Corporate enforcer?”

“Please.” I gestured at him, nodding to the expensive suit, the harder set of his jaw. “You’re trying so hard to be intimidating, but you’re still just a cowardly lawyer hiding behind paperwork.”

Something volatile flashed in his eyes. He straightened to his full height, using his size in a way the old Colton Moreau never would have.

“End of day,” he reminded me softly. “Perfectly completed paperwork. Or we’ll see who’s hiding behind what.”

He left before I could respond, his presence lingering in my office like his cologne.

I spent the next four hours perfecting the documentation, trying to ignore the nagging questions about those shipping manifests.

At 5:55 p.m., I walked into his office with the finished file. Every form completed, every requirement met, every detail documented.

He didn’t look up from his computer as he spoke. “You cut it close, Miss Delacroix.”

“But not too close.” I dropped the file on his desk. “Everything you asked for. Complete. And totally unnecessary.”

He finally looked up, and something in his expression made me wish I’d just left the file and gone. “We’ll see.”

“Yes,” I said coolly, turning to leave. “We will.”

“Miss Delacroix?”

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