Page 71 of Forbidden Fruit

"What is this?" His voice wavers, the smirk faltering.

"This is why you're not getting a dime from me, Jack." I keep my voice level and professional. "Deposits to your personal account that match unauthorized withdrawals from accounts you oversaw. Confidential client information sold to competitors. And my personal favorite—" I tap a printed email exchange "—is your attempt to sabotage the Leland merger because you were angry that someone else closed it."

His face pales. "That's bullshit. You can't prove?—"

"I can prove all of it. I've been watching you for longer than you think." I lean back in my chair, studying him. The boy who grew up in my home, who I tried to mentor despite his resistance. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice half a million dollars missing from the development fund?"

"That was a loan," he sputters. "I was going to pay it back."

"With what? The money you were planning to extort from me today?" I close the folder. "I'm not offering you money, Jack. I'm offering you a choice."

He shifts in his seat, eyes darting around my office like a cornered animal. "What kind of choice?"

"Option one: I press charges. Wire fraud, corporate espionage, embezzlement. You'll do time." I hold up a hand when he tries to interrupt. "Option two: You stay away from Becca. Permanently."

"You can't keep me away from her," he sneers, though there's fear behind his bravado. "She'll see through you eventually. The old man playing sugar daddy."

I feel a flash of anger but suppress it. "Becca knows exactly who I am, Jack. Just as she finally saw who you are. A man who cheated on her, belittled her, and tried to sabotage her career when she wouldn't bend to your will."

His eyes widen. "You told Becaa about?—"

"She knows everything. I don't keep secrets from her." I stand, buttoning my suit jacket. "Your choice, Jack. Prison or a clean break. Either way, you're done here."

He stands, too, knocking the chair backward. “You won’t get away with this.”

"Yes, I will." I walk to the door and open it. "Security will escort you to clean out your desk. The paperwork will be waiting."

After he's gone, I sink back into my chair, tension draining from my shoulders. It went better than expected. I was prepared for violence, for a scene, but in the end, Jack's self-preservation won out. He'll take option two because he always chooses the easy way.

My phone buzzes with a text from Becca:

Everything okay?

I smile, typing back

Yes. He's gone. It's over.

I set the phone down and walk to the window, watching the morning light glint off skyscrapers. Jack will be a problem for a while—wounded pride always is—but he'll eventually move on, probably to some other wealthy patron who'll indulge him until they see through the charm to the emptiness beneath.

My phone rings again. Becca.

"That was fast," I answer, unable to keep the smile from my voice.

"What happened?" she asks, her voice a mix of concern and relief. "Did Jack make a scene?"

"No scene. Jack thought I'd pay him off."

Her soft gasp tells me everything about how little she truly knew him. "He tried to blackmail you?"

"Something like that." I don't tell her about the threats, the crude comments. Some things are better left unsaid. "He's clearing out his desk now."

"Are you okay?" Always thinking of others, my Becca.

"I'm better than okay." I turn from the window and sit on the edge of my desk. "I was thinking we should have dinner tonight. Somewhere nice. Public."

The pause on her end makes my heart skip.

"Are you sure?" she finally asks. "People will talk."

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