Page 81 of Beguiled

Although I simply wanted to take a cursory look at the second set of books. Nothing more. That was all I needed to push my way into an executive position.

What I knew for certain was that they needed to hire additional people, including in the upper-level managerial positions. That was easy to tell.

Exhaling, I rubbed my sweaty hands on my skirt and proceeded to walk very casually toward his office. While he rarely locked it,luck wasn’t going my way. This time he had. Think. What could I use to get inside?

Ah, yes. The good old-fashioned nail file, the metal kind. I rummaged through my purse, constantly staring at the main corridor, listening for any sounds. The janitors wouldn’t come through until much later. As long as I didn’t stay more than an hour, my nefarious actions would remain a tawdry secret.

With the sharp implement in my hand, I returned to his door, thrilled when the tip went inside the slit of the lock.

It took me a little longer than I’d expected, but thanks to Steven’s tutelage about how to break into a locked door, I was inside in under five minutes. Wouldn’t my brother be proud of me?

Stash’s office was organized as usual. Not a thing out of place. Given my powerful observation skills, I’d learned he was a creature of habit, including where he was silly enough to keep his passcode.

He hadn’t thought anyone would dare shadow someone like him or risk worse than being fired by breaking into his computer.

I moved behind his desk, taking a few seconds before sitting down in his ergonomically perfect leather chair, the material soft as butter. I sat back, enjoying the moment while pretending that one day I could be in a corner office.

Or on the unemployment line.

Swiveling in the chair, I even dared close my eyes, but the instant visions of his naked body popped into my mind, I jerked up. “Shit.” This wasn’t like me. At all. But here I was. I’d come this far.

His computer was still on, humming. The screen saver was nothing special, no indication of his true personality. Which was much more passionate than I’d initially thought. A deep pulse in my pussy took my breath away.

“Stop,” I hissed under my breath and opened his drawer, finding the notepad I was looking for. There scratched on the last page was his passcode. Or so I hoped.

After controlling my nerves, I typed it in, cringing with every keystroke. It was entirely possible he’d changed it, which I would tell him to do at least once a month.

But he hadn’t. The main screen popped up. I was in. A tiny feeling of giddiness washed over me, but it was short lived as the reality of what I was doing captured my full attention.

From here, I had to get busy or risk facing getting caught.

A fate worse than death.

I powered through the screens and files, realizing he was a master of layering them. But I knew what to look for and in no time, I found a file that gripped my curiosity.

A little black book, or in this case, a file labeled blacklist.

Wow. This was more than I’d expected. As soon as I pulled up the contents, I was floored. He had a full list of transactions by various world leaders and politicians the Chertov family had done business with.

“Holy shit.”

My nerves were on edge, but the report was quite provocative. I threw a look at the door before hitting print, relieved when his private printer began churning out the pages. I’d makean electronic copy except I was worried his security was such he’d be warned someone was doing so. Printed pages would be perfect. I snapped them up, shifting from one page to another while being a little giddy at what I’d found.

Before I sat back down at the computer, I folded the sheets, sliding them into a pocket in my skirt. I moved to another file, just about ready to open it when my skin began to prickle.

Another file caught my attention. Not one with a name. One that offered a clear indication of why it was being kept.

Chertov Revenge.

With another quick glance toward the closed door, I opened the file. Upon first glance, I couldn’t make out what I was seeing. There was a spreadsheet that had dates, times, locations, and a very brief summary of activities both in Moscow and New York. Until I flicked open the accompanying photographs, I didn’t realize what I was looking at.

The file was on a single person. Whoever it was, his actions had been stalked and recorded. Included was a photograph of a horrific fire, a building almost burned to the ground. I flipped back to the Excel spreadsheet. The notations had stopped months before, picked up again just… a day before. No picture. Just a date indicating the man had been seen in New York. Interesting. There were no names attached, but I gathered whoever he was, my boss wanted him dead.

A cold chill drifted through me and I exited the file. The information felt far too personal. When I sat back, I closed my eyes, a trickle of uncertainty lingering.

There was no noise. No forewarning. Just my blood that should be turning to ice revolting in a firestorm of sensations pricklingevery inch of my skin. My gaze remained locked on the screen, my fingers on the keyboard and there was no way of pretending I was doing anything but what I was.

The silence was horrific, creating a fear catapulting my stomach into evil flipflops.