Page 5 of Billionaire in Disguise

Yeah, he was so fired.

To call it a break room was as much a stretch as calling the rolling Frisbee a chair. It was the size of his college dorm room, or perhaps its attached closet, or perhaps the shoebox in the closet. It contained a half-size refrigerator, miniature microwave and several stools along a narrow counter. Oh, yes, and a plate of lasagna smeared across the floor.

It didn’t make sense. Each Knight Technology office planned for a generous lounge with more than enough refrigeration, appliances and seating for all. Yet fresh drywall cut the room to a sliver, no doubt to the benefit of Dobbs’ already large office on the other side. There was no need to guess where the complimentary assortment of snacks, coffees and pastries was located.

Was there a way to fire someone twice?

Dominick breathed deeply, choking as the overpowering odor of tomatoes and oregano coated his throat. He reached for the rag, stopped just before he touched the blackened scrap of filth. He grabbed the thin roll of paper towels instead, doubled them, and used the first to deposit the rag into the overfilling garbage. Then he used a dozen more to start cleaning the floor.

How many good employees had they lost because of Dobbs? How many more would they lose? Yet the rumored problems weren’t limited to this office, with numerous Knight Technology locations reporting issues. Despite few official complaints, the rumors had gotten louder, amidst higher than expected turnover, especially considering the generous pay. Something was very, very wrong.

He tossed the red-soaked paper into the garbage, just as his telephone buzzed. He’d asked Carlyle not to call during work hours unless there was an emergency.

“Is everything all right?” Keeping his voice low, Dominick edged to the back of the room. Hopefully the lasagna explosion would keep others away.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but our newest software is showing some glitches. I have the CIO on the line.”

“Of course.” Dominick stayed silent as the executive outlined the problem. They traded various ideas, and, in a flurry of technical jargon, the problem was quickly resolved. “If you have any problems, let me know.”

Carlyle returned to the phone. “There’s one last thing. I want to confirm your satisfaction with the new cyber-security program. The final cost is nine point eight million.”

“Under ten million dollars?” Dominick smiled. “That’s a bargain. Go for it.”

“Perfect. How are matters progressing there?”

Dominick took a step and almost slipped on a lasagna noodle. He grasped the counter to keep from falling. “It could be better.”

For a moment, there was silence. “You found something?”

“Something disgusting.” He threw the slimy remnants of a tomato into the garbage. “Literally. I will be making significant changes when I return. At least, the disguise worked perfectly. No one suspects who I really am.”

A gasp sounded.

He froze. Swallowed. “I have to go.”

Slowly, he pivoted. A woman stood watching him, as still and serious as midnight in the arctic winter. She was one of the mid-level software solutions technicians, a common position in the company, and yet she was anything but typical. He’d looked at her once when he arrived, then twice and three times. With a petite frame, generous curves and alluring features, she was lovely, and he’d had to stop himself from approaching her.

Now she stared at him, her deep black hair gleaming in the stark florescent lighting, her cat green eyes burning with intelligence and suspicion.

What had she heard? What had she realized? Most of all…

Did she know who he was?

Chapter 2

Who was he?

The question burned as stark as the spilled lasagna painting the counters, the floors and even the walls. Adrianna stepped into the tangy space, the sound of her no-nonsense pumps echoing on the dull grey tile, as she watched the man watching her.

For a moment, unease lit his eyes. It vanished an instant later, replaced by calm, cool control. This was a man who understood power.

He strode towards her, and she fought the urge to retreat. Perhaps she should leave now, make an excuse that the spilled food spoiled her appetite. Her stomach was unsettled, yet more from the man’s stoic regard than any mess. On the phone, he’d admitted he was not as he seemed.

Who was he?

She should find someone else for her impossible plan. Only something compelled her to stay, even as the silence stretched. Perhaps he had a reasonable explanation for the cryptic words. “Are you a spy?”

She was only half-joking, yet his eyes widened. “Pardon me?”

---