Page 11 of Stitched Up in You
If circumstances were different, I would be looking into some cleats to wear while I tackle him, but I very seriously doubt I’m on his good side at the moment.
We step off the elevator onto a new floor and I suck in a hard breath. My nose crinkles at the soft floral scent in the air.Cologne in the air vents? Boujee.
Flanked by the twins, we make our way to a set of big double-doors, and Nero reaches out to knock.
“Enter.” Comes softly from the room, and into the belly of the beast we go.
I catch a glimpse of towering buildings in a backdrop of clear sky before the electronic whir of the shades being drawn echoesthroughout the spacious room, shielding us from the sharp rays of the sun.
“Come and have a seat,” Frank says, his voice conversational. His slight lilt of a British accent sends a shiver up my spine.
My gaze widens at the sight of him, standing next to a large table with two chairs, one on each end and covered in a white tablecloth and food stuff, a bottle of wine resting on ice with glasses waiting. I’ve heard Talbot Global has the best restaurants in the city, and people are on months-long waiting lists to eat from the chefs here, but my tongue is like sawdust in my mouth.
I glance around, not liking the lack of people.
“Umm, okay,” I say uneasily, and turn to see Bruno and Nero stationed at the door, looking ahead like bodyguards born to the role.
I toy with the end of my sweater, tugging it into my palm nervously as I make my way over, jumping out of my skin when a fireplace comes to light, causing a startled noise to gurgle from my lips.
My face heats with embarrassment when the billionaire oligarch only moves to pull out my chair like a gentleman. I wish it gave me the warm and fuzzies but the empty, emotionless expression on his face sets me on edge even more somehow.
“Twelve point two million,” he says, as his big body moves to settle into the seat across from me.
“What?” I find myself asking dumbly, knocking into my cutlery and feeling like a newborn calf, floundering. I move my hands to my lap and clench them into fists to keep them from doing something stupid like grabbing for the steak knife and force myself to face the giant.
He glares, and the heat on my face increases.
“What you have cost me these last two months in time and resources, Miss Crenshaw. I had my accountant run thenumbers,” Frank states, flicking his napkin open with flare and spreading it across his expansive suit-clad lap.
My mind races with what to say or how to even respond to that. “That’s impossible. I didn’t do anything.”
He moves to pour the wine into two glasses, setting one in front of me before settling back into his chair. “So, you keep saying.”
A frown pulls across my forehead as my palms turn sweaty. Theres no way that I cost him that much money. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hedge, knowing I didn’t take anything. I glanced over the shareholder list and found it odd that the guy Aubrey was vacationing with was on the list, that’s it.
“Two months ago, my security team noticed a breach, a breach you caused. Because of what you did, a set of my competitors took the opportunity to use the hole you made to gain access to my company files,” Frank calmly states, sweeping his napkin across his big lap.
The air crackles with tension as he glares at me, and a sinking sensation enters my gut like I’ve been punched. “I didn’t mean?—”
“I do not care,” he bites out.
I duck my head and stare into my lap, my mind going over what I saw that day. If someone did piggy-back off of me, I would have noticed. “Wait, that’s impossible.”
“Apparently you don’t understand the meaning of the word impossible,” the giant man says as he snaps his fingers.
My head darts to the door that opened the second his fingers touched, and men begin to file into the room. A dark-haired man leads the party and brings a large blue envelope over to the table before handing it to Frank, looking at me curiously.
My gaze passes over the other men, and I notice none of the rest attempt to look in my direction. Is this guy their boss?
“Did you get what I asked for?” Frank asks, shuffling through the file in his hand, his gaze reading over the pages before snapping it close and once again meeting my stare.
“We can have them brought here within the hour,” the dark-haired man replies.
My gaze darts between them and the determined look on Frank’s expression gives me pause.
“What’s going on?” I ask, the sleeve of my sweater a mangled mess in my hands as I continue to twist it worriedly.
“You’re going to assist my team,” Frank says, waving his hand at the guys who walked into the room a moment ago. “You’re going to do everything they ask while Mikael monitors and reports back to me.”
