“Dear old Beverly Higgins. How is she?”
“Mean as hell.”
Will laughed. “ Some things never change. How is the spy accessing the accounts?”
“I have no idea, but they’re all recent deals coming in with established clients. Nothing intercepted has been under contract, so no laws have been broken. She’s very smart.”
“Are you logging the client information or the object descriptions online somewhere?”
“The only people other than me with access to the items considered for auction are Chance, editorial, and Mildred, of course. None of the financial data or private client information is accessible to anyone but Chance and me.”
Will returned to his chair and tapped his fingers on the desk. There was no way Mildred was tipping anyone off. She’d been with the company from the time their dad began it and was completely loyal. Michael and Chance were the only ones with access to client info, which meant it had to be the material distributed to editorial regarding the auction items themselves.
Will slid off his tie and shoved it in his front pocket. “I need access to your office while you’re gone. I also need the files on all deals that have been intercepted by the anonymous dealer and a full description given by the clients of the woman.” He ignored Michael’s scowl as he unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Formal had never been his thing. “Oh, and I want access to all personnel files.”
Michael smiled. “Yeah, well, you’ll have to fist-fight Mrs. Higgins for those.”
He was glad to see his brother’s mood lift. “Good thing I’m trained in hand-to-hand combat. Besides, Beverly could never say no to me. Just let her know I need them so she can’t say the top boss man didn’t authorize it.”
“I’ll shoot an email to her. You want to crash at my apartment since it’s closer than your house?”
He unbuttoned the next two buttons of his shirt. “No. I’m sleeping right here.”
“That’s not necessary. You’ll be more comfortable at my place.”
Comfortable. Will almost laughed. He had slept in bombed-out buildings, all-terrain vehicles, and the middle of the desert for years. A sofa was like a resort. “You go to Greece and make a deal. I’ll stay here and catch a spy.”
…
Claire heaved a relieved sigh as she settled into her desk chair. When Beverly the Beast had seen her come in late, she was sure she’d be fired but only got chewed out for irresponsible behavior. Maybe the old bat was chill because she knew Claire was only a temporary employee.
Beverly seemed much more disturbed by an email she received during their brief meeting that resulted in her shouting at her secretary to pull all personnel files. So disturbed, in fact, she simply sent Claire off with a stack of printed pages and the brusque command, “Fix this.” She knew her friend Heather was on friendly terms with Higgins the Hag and dealt with her a lot through the placement agency, but she just didn’t understand the appeal.
Through her open office door, Claire had a view of the lobby. It was a huge open space where the company sometimes held parties and even a smaller auction now and then. This morning, it held only a couple of antique settees and a table with a floral arrangement the size of a small car. Beyond that was a set of mahogany double doors. It was the office of Michael Anderson. Everyone seemed intimidated by him, but she’d never spoken to the man herself. His younger brother, Chance, was the company lawyer and worked on the floor below. He seemed nice enough the couple of times she’d run into him in the lobby or elevator. She had known there was a third brother who had returned from fighting overseas recently, but she’d never seen him until today, and holy crap what an eyeful he was. Her face grew warm when she pictured him in the elevator. Big and hot and… God, what a fiasco. Happy Monday.
Her own office was sparse, but everything in it was high-quality and efficient. She hadn’t bothered to give it a personal touch because, really, why bother? She’d be leaving for Egypt in a couple of weeks.
She thumbed through the documents on her desk and flicked the mouse to wake the computer up for her mindless chore. She’d been tasked with proofing and editing copy for sales brochures—a no-brainer task that would keep her distracted from the miserable events at the hospice last month.