Page 1 of Undeniably Corrupt
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“Ah, he’s alive. I was going to send out a search party for you.” My assistant, Champagne, leans her hip against my office desk, her eyes on her long, hot-pink nails, picking at something as I exit what I refer to as the closet. A room only I can enter, attached to my office, and only accessible with my biometrics and a code that changes every thirty seconds.
I rub the top of my blond head as I twist my back to crack out the stiffness. “I know, I know.” I hold up a hand to her and check my watch. Fuck. It’s nearly eight in the morning, and I have a board meeting at ten. I meant to leave earlier than now.
“Is anyone else here yet?”
“Not many, but that’s why I came in here and pushed the button.”
I nod in appreciation even as a wicked yawn hits me so hard I shudder with it. The button she’s referring to is an app that makes a light in my closet flash on and off, alerting me I’m needed. “Thank you.”
“It’s Tuesday,” she states, abandoning her nails to hit me with a stern, perturbed look.
I chuckle. “I’m aware. I’m not that out of it.”
“Maybe not, but you look like hell. I told everyone you were working from home yesterday. How long were you in there this time?”
“Just since Saturday. I’m working on a couple of things.”
“You’re always working on a couple of things.” She rounds my desk and follows me out into the empty hall to stand before me, concern all over her face. “When was the last time you had anything real to eat? I know the last time you showered.”
She scrunches her nose while giving me a big once-over with her large, disapproving brown eyes and a motherly look only she can get away with.
“I’m not answering that. And some of this might be from my midnight drumming session.” I shrug unrepentantly. It gave me the endorphin and adrenaline burst I needed to keep going. It also made me a sweaty fucking mess, and the bathroom I have in my closet has no shower.
“Go shower and please shave. You’ve got suits hanging in your real closet. I’ll run down to the café on the corner to get you something that doesn’t come from the vending machine.”
“Nah, I’ll do that. Thank you, though. I need to get out and stretch my legs for a bit. Don’t worry. I’ll be back, showered, and ready well before the meeting.”
Her lips purse as she eyes me. It’s not the first time I’ve made that promise and not kept it. “You better be,” she warns. “Now get moving before people see you.”
I throw a hand up and head for the elevator.
“Remember, you have assistant interviews starting tomorrow. My retirement date is in eight weeks.”
I stumble over my feet as I step onto the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. Shit. How did that come on so fast, and how on earth will I ever find an assistant like Champagne? It’s impossible. I trust no one but her because she’s worked for me for eight years since I took over as the CEO of Monroe Securities,and my mother, who was the CEO for two decades before that.
Champagne knows me. She knows who I am and what I do, and that’s not something I share with hardly anyone.
Blinding sunlight singes my eyeballs when I step out of my building, the heavy glass door swooshing behind me as a guy in a suit hustling past me nearly body slams me.
“Watch it, dick,” he barks, only to catch a second glimpse of me and immediately grimace, regretting his harsh words. “Never mind. Sorry, man.” Before I can reply, he scurries away, and I snicker.
I must really look like shit.
I glance down at myself. Black slacks that… yeah, those are food and coffee stains. Black button-down shirt that’s again covered in shit I dare not name. No coat despite the frigid temperatures. I scratch my jaw and won’t even consider how grizzly my beard is, and I’m wearing my glasses because my eyes were hurting.
I suppose that’s what happens when I haven’t slept much for the better part of three days. I drag my hands back through my greasy hair to try to tame the too-long locks into some semblance of not fucked, only to realize it’s hopeless and yank an old Boston Rebels hat from my messenger bag and shove it on my head.
Whatever. Since when do I give a shit about how I look? I almost laugh at how ridiculous I’m being as I head toward the coffee shop on the corner. I’m stiff and tired and can’t wait to go home and sleep, but that’ll have to wait. Today is not my sleeping day.
First the board this morning, then I have to get the person. Well, two people in this case.
There’s the black hat hacker attacking one of our companies, and then there’s the asshole who’s trying to mess with my friends Loomis and Keegan. Neither hero nor villain, I exist asthe CEO of a cybersecurity company by day and a hacker by night.
Which means I need some coffee and food not from the vending machines in my building. I head up the block, tucking into myself as I fight the wind, wishing I had remembered my damn coat. My phone rings in my pocket, and I slip it out only to smile.
I swipe my finger across the screen and drop an AirPod into my right ear.
