Page 65 of Marrying the Billionaire

He compulsively smooths down his tie, staring at the paper. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

“Why does that department have such a big budget? What are they doing? And why is everyone paid higher than comparable companies?”

“You’ll have to ask Greg. He makes the decisions.”

“Can you tell me where Research and Development is located in the building?”

He won’t look up to meet my eye. “I’m not sure,” he says in a small voice.

My lips twist. A few minutes’ worth of looking at his own LinkedIn profile told me this man has been at Montague Media for thirteen years, working his way up to Head of Accounting. I’m fairly sure he knows where everything is.

“I know you’re a smaller company than Bishop Industries. You guys don’t have the ridiculous number of executives we do, but you and I aren’t all that different. Being the most senior accountant, you’re kind of like Montague Media’s CFO. Now, whose signature is at the end of this report?”

He doesn’t bother turning to the last page. “Mine.”

“Right. And I know I wouldn’t put my name on something I couldn’t stand by or at least justify. Whether or not you wrote this, you’re responsible for everything in it. And if it’s not true, that’s fraud. So are you willing to take responsibility for the contents of this?”

I don’t particularly enjoy throwing my weight around, but I warned Serena I wasn’t a saint. In business, you can’t be.

The silence in the room stretches until he finally says, “I’m just doing my job.”

“Under whose orders?”

He stands, handing me back the papers. “I’m sorry, I can’t answer your questions.”

I stand too, grabbing my bag. “So if I went and asked Greg the same things, he’d have some answers?”

He nods soberly. Well, if he’s encouraging me to talk to the CEO, he’s probably not pocketing any money then.

But that just makes the case against Greg even stronger.

“Thanks for your time, Mr. Lassiter.”

He doesn’t respond as I let myself out, but I’m not ready to confront Serena’s father yet. Her and I have recently entered new territory and shitting all over that by accusing her dad of something I don’t have definitive proof of feels wrong. Not that it sounds like she’s close to him after the way she described their relationship at the silent auction, but he’s still her closest relative. Estranged from her mother, no siblings… Who else does she have?

But I also owe it to Bishop Industries to report this if I find out any more.Myjob could be at stake if it turns out my gut feeling is right, Harold Bishop’s son or not. Like I told Christopher, I’m ultimately responsible for anything that happens in any of the financial departments.

I head back to the office and finish up my day, leaving earlier than usual. Well, it’s the time I’m supposed to leave, but I always stay later.

And coming home now was the right decision because as I enter the apartment, a heady aroma greets me from the kitchen. I watch Serena unobserved for a moment as she sautees garlic at the stove, her hair falling in soft waves down her back, nothing particularly immodest about the sundress she’s wearing, but I still appreciate the way it highlights her toned legs, the curve of her ass, her trim waist-

“You’re home early.”

My eyes snap up to meet hers, a smirk playing about her lips. This time, though, it doesn’t seem so wrong for her to catch me looking.

“Yeah, I decided to actually leave on time today.”

“Good. You need more of a balance.” She turns the burner off and comes over to greet me, slipping her arms over my shoulders and tugging my head down for a hot kiss.

A man could get used to a greeting like this.

And besides that, there’s something about it that feels natural. Right. Easy.

The two paths I thought about earlier in my office unfurl themselves before me. Keeping things as they’re meant to be - a business arrangement. Friendly to one another, but platonic in private. It’ll preserve the peace, ensure there are no hard feelings, nothing that leads to the usual kinds of breakups in couples.

But now there’s this new path. The one where we’re attracted to each other, exploring this physical side between us. The path that was never part of the original agreement. Wasn’t supposed to be here at all.

The path that’s becoming more and more enticing.

But Dad’s already on my back, labeling her as a distraction. And knowing him, he’ll probably send me some email tonight just to see if I respond, to make sure I’m on top of my game like always.

I pull away from her kiss, smiling to soften the blow. “What’s for dinner?”

She returns my smile, enthusiasm in her voice as she tells me about the garlic parmesan pasta she’s making for us, and I let her words wash over me, half my mind on the paths, unsure which one to take. To be responsible, the way I’ve been for so long, or to give in to this newfound desire, even knowing it could end badly.

Maybe the right answer will reveal itself to me in time, the decision clear. Or maybe I’ll have to dive in headfirst, unsure what’s on the other side.

And I think that’s the part that worries me the most.

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