Page 114 of Masks and Mishaps

I’m going to screw him between his afternoon meetings.

Weston saunters over and drops into his chair. He has two cups of coffee this morning, and he places one in front of me. “Hey.”

“Morning.”

“I didn’t see you on Saturday at Cavendish’s mom’s thing. Did you have fun?”

“It was fine.”

“Tough to lose all that inheritance though,” Weston mentions, sighing. “You seem like you need the money, Romero.”

…What?

“Weston—”

He bobs his chin at my monitor. “How’s your magical model going? You’re good at all this tech stuff. I guess that tracks, being a compsci major.”

“I am,” I confirm, not bothering to dilute it, but I feel the acridity in his words. Something is happening here. Weston is…different. His softness and his earnestness are gone, and we’re teetering on a razor’s edge. I know better than to provoke a man when he’s like this.

Weston scoots closer, and the flecks of green in his blue eyes remind me of scatters of algae on a pond. He whispers, “You’re almost as good with computers as you are at taking cocks.”

Immediately, my body illuminates with panic. It flares at the tips of my fingers and forges the steep path up my arms to my shoulders, which I pull tight. The fine hairs on my neck prickle, and when I finally get my bearings, I realize my lips have parted.

“Emerald X,” he goes on, unblinking as a half-smile slowly spreads across his face like crocodile eyes surfacing in a swamp. “Now, get up.”

“What?”

“Get up,” he repeats, “Or I’ll send an all-staff email about how you’re not only a camwhore, but you’re fucking Cavendish too.”

Bile rises in my stomach and laps at my esophagus, making my stomach roil. Slowly, I remove my headset, place it on the hook next to my monitor, and stand.

“Conference Room C,” he instructs.

As we walk, I layer the most neutral expression I can find with a pounding heart. My hand tightens around my phone, and I briefly consider texting Dalton. But when I glance down, Weston clicks his tongue. “Don’t. Remember: I’m your boss, and my recommendation determines if you get an offer.”

He’s right. Jaw clenched, I enter the conference room but immediately slide my back against the wall by the door.

Weston stands in front of me. “This is fun.” He grins. “Now, ask me.”

Fine. “How did you find out about Emerald X?”

“When I onboarded you, you had to submit bank statements and fill out conflict of interest paperwork.”

I did. The practice is customary at banks and firms where the possibility of financial gain could lead to inadvertent white-collar crimes and conflicts of interest. “It was supposed to be confidential.”

He shrugs. “You’re pretty. I wanted to know more about you, and this is my father’s bank. HR sent me your file without a fuss, and you had ashockinglylarge amount of money in your bank account for a girl like you. Most of your transactions were from the same website, so I did some research. I went down a few rabbit holes—pun intended—and can you imagine how surprised I was to see you wearing a mask and rubbing your tits for the camera?” He leans closer. “And you have the prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen.”

“What do you want, Weston?” I ask through clenched teeth, fighting back tears.

“I was disappointed on Halloween when you streamed yourself being defiled by a masked ogre, but I figured he was another porn star. I was trying to overlook it. Would have helped if you had gone to dinner with me. But then on Saturday, Cavendish took off his shirt in front of me like the dickhead he is. I saw his stupid tattoos and put two and two together. I can’t believe you fucked him.”

“I thought you liked Dalton. Everyone—”

“EveryonelovesCavendish. Everyone’s jizzing themselves to hang out with Cavendish.” He rolls his eyes. “You think I like the talentless hack my own father replaced me with?”

“You’re jealous,” I realize aloud. “You want what Dalton has.”

Weston advances on me, and I suck in a breath. “If you’re smart,” he murmurs, “you’llneverinsinuate I’m jealous of Cavendish again.” He straightens his spine. “And if you’re smart, you’ll fuck me. Because if you don’t, I’ll make it my life’s work to blacklist you and Cavendish not just from Hannington-Hale, but every bank in DC, New York, London, and Hong Kong.”

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