“Miss Young, are you available to take meeting minutes right now?” His brows lift incrementally, his expression unchanging. But I can see the glint in his eyes, and I wonder what he’s up to.

  Is this some new roleplaying thing we’re doing? If so, I can play along.

  “Of course, Mr. Stryker,” I reply, equally professional. “I’ll grab my laptop.”

  Daniel nods once, chill like the back corner of the fridge. “Thank you. Conference room one, please.”

  Without another word he, Ricky, and Billy continue on their strut through the lobby without a look back. I watch them go until I feel a smack and see that Stephanie’s just backhanded my thigh for attention.

  “What the hell was that?” she asks warily. “What’s going on?”

  “I have no damn idea,” I admit honestly while not revealing my suspicions. “I guess I’ll find out.”

  “Yeah, well, you’d better tell us,” Stephanie orders. “Especially if it concerns the front desk. But even if it doesn’t.”

  Megan rolls her eyes at Stephanie’s bossy tone. “If you can, she means. Don’t you think if it really concerned us, Mr. Stryker wouldn’t bother dealing with us himself? He’d probably have someone send Tiff an email.”

  Stephanie pins me with a glare. “Have you checked your email?”

  “I’ve been sitting right here next to you. What do you think?” I ask her, fighting to not hip-check her and remind her who’s the boss here. But it’s all in good fun, mostly. We’re just nosy because it typically serves us well to know what’s happening around here.

  Megan whispers, “You think it’s about . . . ahem . . .” She looks around, making her concerns about being overheard all the more obvious, “Mark and Brandon and Layla?”

  “Ooh! Yes!” Stephanie whisper-shouts. She mouths at me, “All of it,” before miming drinking tea from a cup with her pinky out, communicating that she’ll be expecting me to spill all the tea as soon as possible.

  I pick up my laptop from my desk, eyeing Stephanie and Megan in warning because I wouldn’t put it past them to listen at the door. Stephanie, especially, and she’d likely get Megan to act as lookout. I head into the conference room, where Daniel is telling Ricky and Billy the plan. Seeing me, he waves me in, and I close the door behind me.

  “Okay, so I’ll sit here, at the head of the table by the door. Ricky and Billy, you’re in chairs to the corners behind right there,” he says, pointing where he wants them to perch. “I don’t expect these guys to do anything stupid, but you never know. Tiffany, you can sit on the other side of the room. For the love of God, I need you to be totally silent, nearly invisible for this to go off well. Do you understand?”

  I raise a brow sharply, and Ricky whistles. “Oh, Uncle Daniel, I would’ve thought you’d know better than to tell a woman something like that. Am I gonna have to give you lessons in relationships? I’m basically a pro with Miranda now . . .”

  Daniel inhales deeply, cutting off Ricky’s not-so-humble brag. Daniel looks from Ricky to me. “You’re right, Ricky. Tiffany, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like it sounded.”

  “Whoa . . . mark this on the calendar,” Billy whispers. “He apologized. That must be some penis flytrap magic working there.”

  Daniel glances at Billy, who shuts up.

  Billy’s vulgar joke doesn’t set me off like Paul’s did last night. Their intentions are completely different, and Daniel and I are in a different place now. So instead of ripping Billy a new one, I open and close my jaw, clacking my teeth together like a carnivorous plant might. He flinches and I grin.

  “Guys,” Daniel says, rubbing at his temple. “This meeting is going to be difficult. We’re basically juggling dynamite here, taking away not only a payday they’re expecting but calling them on conspiracy when I don’t know if they even know they’re part of one. This is serious. I don’t expect it to be dangerous, but I don’t like even the chance of putting you at risk, Tiffany.”

  “Then why’d you invite me in?

  “You deserve it,” Daniel says simply. “And because I knew you’d want to see this thing through firsthand.”

  His logic and decision-making process become totally clear, and I smile. He’s respecting me by inviting me in for this while still keeping to the corporate structure where I shouldn’t be within ten steps of this room right now.

  “I’ll be a mime,” I promise him, zipping my lips and tucking the invisible key in my cleavage before settling into a chair at the far end of the room, setting my laptop up on a small table in the corner. In seconds, I look the very model of a modern executive assistant, right down to my hair pulled back in a bun and my chest pushed forward, but not too forward.

  That last part’s just for me.

  “What about us, Uncle Daniel? Aren’t you worried about us getting hurt with all the formidable danger these two assholes are strutting in with?” Billy teases, flexing his biceps.

  Ricky grins, making his pecs pop and dance.

  Daniel’s brow lifts sharply, a cold-eyed glare coming from his baby blues and directed at Ricky and Billy, who’ve at least managed to take their assigned seats. “That’s right, Boss. Use that,” Ricky tells Daniel, and I realize what they’re doing.

  It’s not childish annoyance in the face of something serious, it’s love by aggravation. They know Daniel needs to feel something other than worry about me. He needs anger, annoyance, and even a bit of fury swirled in to be hard-assed for the next few minutes of this meeting. I think they’ve used this tactic on him before.

  Daniel nods his appreciation, and I watch as the mantle of responsibility settles onto his shoulders. His chest squares up, his shoulders strong and ready to accept the weight of the world. His face goes granite-like, and he sits in the head chair. Reaching over, he pushes a button on the big speakerphone setup that’s in the middle.

  “Mark, I’ve got a few questions about the TRE contract. Can you bring the team to conference room one now?” Before Mark can reply, Daniel hangs up, telling Ricky and Billy, “Legal and HR will be here any second.”

  As if he conjured them or just has the Force, there’s a sharp knock on the door. Ricky gets up to open it, and Mr. Yuri, a representative from HR, and Ms. Maloney from Legal file in and take seats at the end of the table closer to me, greeting Daniel as they do so.

  “Thank you for joining us,” Daniel says, his voice all business. “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

  “Of course, Mr. Stryker. I already confirmed with Ms. Maloney that everything is in order in terms of the violation of the employment contract, and Fox is totally in the clear.”

  Ms. Maloney simply nods, which I guess is all she needs to do. Meanwhile, I type quickly at my laptop, taking notes on the attendees, and prepare to begin as soon as Daniel gets started.

  I don’t take meeting notes often, but I’m not out of practice, and I know that the room will be recorded as well. Daniel doesn’t mess around with that sort of stuff.

  Another knock sounds on the door, and Daniel calls out, “Come in.”

  The door opens, and Mark, Brandon, and Shaun enter. Mark and Brandon look quietly confident, almost cocky, while Shaun looks like he’s about to shit bricks. No wonder Daniel kept having strange feelings as he was evaluating the now nonexistent TRE deal.

  But based on the looks on Mark and Brandon’s faces, they don’t know the deal’s off yet.

  “Thank you for coming down, gentlemen. Please, sit down,” Daniel says. The three men move to sit, and Daniel waits until the last moment before saying, “Shaun, you may be excused. This is not a meeting you want to be a part of.”

  Shaun looks confused and stands slowly, moving toward the door as his eyes bounce around the room. When they land on Mr. Yuri and Ms. Maloney, he seems to finally realize that something serious is happening, and his pace quickens. He virtually runs out at that point.

  Mark and Brandon’s confidence wavers, and they look at each other with furrowed brows. I notice Brandon lifting a shoulder in answer to Mark’s unasked question. But fear is lurking in their eyes as they turn back to Daniel.

  Brandon finds his balls first. “Daniel, what’s going on here?”

  Daniel steeples his fingers, leaning back in his chair and surveying Brandon thoroughly. He must have so many thoughts rushing through his mind, but you can’t tell it by his blank expression. If I remember right, Brandon worked on Daniel’s team for his internship years ago, and I’m sure that Daniel’s good word is what got Brandon his job.

  And now . . . he’s betrayed that good word. No wonder Daniel had and still has so much armor up around his emotions.

  Daniel takes his time before answering, and I wait with my fingers at the ready to type his response. “You already know what this is about. You both do.”

  That does get their attention, and Mark sits up straighter.

  “I presume you’ve got some new questions about the TRE contract?” His voice is tight and a bit high-pitched. “What is it?”

  “There are a few clauses that were in the boilerplate that caught my attention,” Daniel says. “For example, clause twenty-three A. Mark, explain that one for me?”

  “Ah, well . . . it’s one of the patent retention clauses,” Mark says, stumbling a little. “I believe it says that—”

  “In a very roundabout way that is not part of our standard contract, it says that if sales numbers stay above a certain figure, the rights to the patent revert to the original patent holders,” Daniel says. “A clause which, to the best of my knowledge, literally means that we’d be giving the patent rights back to the original holders if the product is successful instead of keeping the patents and the royalties on them. First, I know that the Fox legal team wouldn’t write anything that moronic. And secondly, it’s some of the most convoluted phrasing I’ve ever seen in any contract. I don’t think that was unintentional.”

  The accusation that perhaps Mark added the phrase himself is bold, and he stammers, not sure what to say to that. Daniel turns to Brandon.

  “Brandon, explain to me as well why in the hell I would invest millions, pull the TRE tech out of the dark ages of accessibility, give the patents back, and then receive a payout of only a portion of the stock shares? Is that something you’ve seen in any acquisition you’ve been a part of?”

  “Ah. Well, sir, we—”

  “We can pull up those contracts if you need something to help you remember,” Daniel offers coldly.

  “Uhm, no. That’s not needed,” Brandon snaps, his cockiness getting the better of him.

  “Can it,” Daniel says. His voice his iron hard, cold as ice, and both men shut up immediately. In the corner of my eye, I see Billy cover his mouth, and I suspect he’s grinning behind that paw of his.

  “Mark, Brandon, I’ve been around a long time,” Daniel says evenly. “I’ve worked my way up, learning every step of the way, and fighting for every deal I’ve made. It’s a cutthroat world with tempting shortcuts along the way. But do you know what happens if you take a shortcut?”

  Both men shake their heads.

  “You lose. Maybe not the first time, though sometimes it truly is that quick.” Daniel’s smile hints at an impending evil punishment for the two men. “But not carefully following every step and rushing to the finish line does not get you where you want to be. You’ll step on a landmine along the way. You always do.”

  “Mr. Stryker, we—” Brandon is trying to take back control, but he’s a kitten in a room with a tiger. One who’s had his Fox family threatened and will not put up with that.

  “You thought you could play a shell game and hide it behind a bunch of legalese. You thought you could get one over on Fox. Or am I wrong?”

  Both men look guilty because they clearly are. But neither of them seems to realize that Daniel is talking to them both, trying to tease out every morsel of intel from the two men, setting them up for the big bomb he’s keeping in his back pocket.

  Mark shifts in his seat and then glances at Brandon. “Well, you know, sir, Shaun—”

  “Don’t even try it,” Daniel snaps. “This sort of scheme would be hard to pull off yourselves. You needed help. But Shaun isn’t that help. That’s what took me a moment longer to figure out. That legalese mumbo-jumbo mess, who wrote it? You, Mark? Or you, Brandon?”

  They look at each other, confusion building in their eyes.

  “That’s what I thought. Neither of you did. Layla Franklin did. Now tell me, were you both using Layla, or was she playing you two instead?”

  It’s like Daniel just slapped both men in the face with a wet washcloth. Mark goes pale while Brandon turns an angry red, but neither breathes as their mental wheels turn and they whisper almost in synch, “playing . . . us?”

  That’s when the shit really hits the fan.

  Mark and Brandon turn on each other, angry and hurt. Not at being discovered scheming but because they didn’t know.

  They both figured they were the only one dating Layla Franklin. I guess the plot got a little thicker than either of them intended with her. Seems like she’s the true genius behind the scheme. Or well, it might’ve been genius if they hadn’t gotten caught.

  “You . . . mother . . . fucker!” Mark rasps. “You told me you weren’t seeing anyone!”

  “You told me you were fucking that Hooters chick!”

  They suddenly lunge at each other, grabbing each other and bouncing off the table several times before falling to the ground. It’s MMA in the boardroom . . . or it would be if either of these guys knew what they were doing. Instead, it’s mostly slapping and shoving while calling each other names.

  “She loves me, dickweed!”

  “Well, I love her, you ugly ass goblin!”

  “Bullshit! You don’t even know her. We’re retiring to the Bahamas with the money!”

  “That’s our money!”

  I think their words are doing more damage than their fists, especially as they reveal more and more of their plan. Daniel is definitely taking note of every word.

  Even so, after a moment, Daniel gestures with his right hand. Billy and Ricky get up from their chairs, physically pulling the two men apart and holding them away from each other with one hand.

  “Ow!” Mark whines when he tries to yank his arm free and Billy squeezes harder.

  “Relax,” Billy says coldly. “Settle down. Fun’s over.”

  Brandon, the cockiest asshole in acquisitions, crumbles like a sugar cube in hot coffee and sags, giving Ricky no problems. I’m surprised. I would’ve guessed it’d be the other way around.

  “Sit down,” Daniel barks. Ricky and Billy assist the two men into the chairs, placing a heavy hand on their shoulder to keep them seated. “Tell me everything.”

  Brandon scoffs, “I’m not telling you shit.” Seems like he’s finding his balls again.

  “I will,” Mark says, glaring at Brandon. I think he’s telling all just to be ornery. “I met Layla a few months ago at a bar. We enjoyed each other’s company. When we talked about work, she told me about TRE and their tech, said they needed funding, so I told her Fox might be interested. It was . . . fine at first. But the closer to signing the contract, the more worried she got. She kept talking about our share and how we deserved it after working so hard. She wrote the clause and helped me buy stock in TRE so we could . . .”

  “Sell it high and move to the Bahamas with the proceeds,” Brandon finishes. He looks pale, and I wonder if Mark’s story is pretty close to his too. It sounds like Layla is an opportunistic bitch who made use of two suckers at Fox for her own gain.

  Not that they’re innocent in all this.

  “What do you want us to do with them, Uncle Daniel?”

  “Show them to the door,” Daniel says. “We have more than enough at this point. Gentlemen, you are both terminated, effective immediately. Your things will be packed for you, and a courier will deliver them to your home addresses with your last paycheck within twenty-four hours.”

  Mr. Yuri nods his understanding of the assignment while I note that I’m going to be expecting a courier at some point, probably today.

  Ricky and Billy march Mark and Brandon out into the lobby. They’re out of my sight for only a moment when I hear a loud scuffle of feet on the marble floor and loud voices echoing.

  “You son of a bitch!” Mark yells. “You wrecked it!”

  “Me?” Brandon shouts back. “What about you!

  I know I promised to be invisible, but I have staff out there who might be in danger, so I get up, giving Daniel a look that dares him to try and stop me. He’s already out of his seat himself, and I hurry to the doorway, wanting to get out there before Megan or Stephanie can be pulled into things. Actually, all of us are moving, and while I beat Mr. Yuri and Ms. Maloney there, Daniel is already standing between Ricky and Billy.

  Mark and Brandon are scuffling again, rolling back and forth on the tile in what appears to be round two of The Ultimate Fail Championships. Thankfully, Megan and Stephanie know to stay behind the desk, looking more amused than anything else.

  “Did you let them go, or did they get away from you?” Daniel asks in exasperation. “Seriously, boys.”

  Ricky and Billy lean back to look at each other behind Daniel’s back.

  “They got away,” Billy says.

  “We let them go,” Ricky admits, and Billy gives him a sharp glare.

  “Dude, I thought we were covering?”

  “Dude, I thought we were telling the truth?”

  Daniel sighs, shaking his head like a disappointed father of a pair of five-year-old twins who just strapped bedsheets to their backs and jumped from the roof under the misguided belief that they could fly, only to land on the trampoline. “Gentlemen, we’ll discuss this later. For now, could you handle this, please?”