Gone with the Wolf - By Kristin Miller Page 0,7
the deposit slips at the bank.” She tapped her nails on the desk. Then eyed Emelia curiously. “I need you to hold down the fort for thirty minutes or so. Can you do that?”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I mean, I’ve been here a whopping two seconds.” An idea struck, as sharp and true as a lightning bolt. She could use the time alone to dig around through some of Mr. Wilder’s paperwork. “You know what, on second thought, I’ll be fine. What do you need?”
Trixie stood, snatched a few manila folders off her desk along with an overflowing desk basket, and plopped them in front of Emelia. “The documents in the tan folders need to be filed. The cabinet is over there.” She pointed to a tall filing monstrosity behind her desk. “The papers in the basket need to be shredded.” She slid over a waste bin with a shredder anchored over the top. “Pretty simple. Answer the phone, file, shred, got it?”
Nodding, Emelia got to work, opening all the cabinet drawers behind Trixie’s desk to orient herself with where things needed to be. Trixie left quietly, gathering her phone, purse, water, and bank deposit bag before heading to the elevators.
Once Emelia was alone, she grinned slyly and scanned the long, taupe hall that stretched to the opposite end of the building. While the lower floors were whitewashed and sterile, looking more like a doctor’s office than a financial building, the upper floor was warm and cozy, reminding Emelia of the insides of a posh cabin…if cabin decorators had elegant taste and more money than Oprah. The halls were empty except for a few small trees that looked like mini-pines and pictures of mountain landscapes.
It was quiet and probably wouldn’t stay that way. There was no time to lose.
Emelia sauntered back to her desk, determined not to look like she was in too much of a hurry, and flipped through papers in the shred basket. Nothing but duplicates of receipts, board minutes, and miscellaneous memos. She took out a handful, tapped them into a neat pile, then fed them into the shredder. Low, droning noises escaped down the hall as the papers disappeared into the waste bin. Emelia leaned forward, checking near the elevators for any sign of a party crasher. Coast clear. She fingered through the manila “to file” folder and removed a random piece of paper.
It looked like loan-approval paperwork for a newly acquired building south of Capitol Hill.
“Hmm,” Emelia scanned the document quickly. “Looks really important. Bet he’d be pissed if someone messed with his business stuff.”
She knew too well what happened when people screwed with other people’s livelihoods, then acted like they didn’t give a damn.
Maybe she could give Mr. Wilder a taste of his own medicine…
She guided the document into the shredder, relishing the mechanical murmur that followed. The crunch-munch-buzz whispered “Mr. Wilder’s downfall” into Emelia’s ears.
With a pang of guilt that she shrugged off, Emelia ripped another document from its manila bed—“Wilder Financial Acquisitions Report for May 2012.” As the machine minced the report, Emelia plucked another “important” document from the folder. And then another. She dove headfirst into shredder heaven.
Within minutes, the folders were thinner than before, and Emelia’s shoulders significantly lighter. She’d shredded enough documents to drive someone crazy looking for them when they came up missing. She only hoped that someone was Mr. Wilder.
“At least there’ll be more room in the file drawers.” Smiling ear to ear, Emelia rolled back from the desk and slid the waste bin farther beneath it. She checked the time on her iPhone. “Trixie didn’t mention when we break for lunch. I think it’s about time.”
“I don’t think so,” a gravelly voice said from behind her. “Not yet.”
Mr. Wilder’s office consumed the entire upper floor. There was only one person who could be standing behind her.
Shitdamnshit.
She’d moved too fast, had gotten too close to the fire and had been burned. How much had he seen? Wincing, Emelia spun around.
“Drake?” She blanched.
“Good afternoon, Emelia.”
He was just as she remembered through her drunken fog. His shoulders were impossibly broad, his lips curving seductively into a smile. The width of his stance was commanding and stern, matching the hard clench of his jaw. His eyes were dark and brooding, hiding delicious secrets. Her body’s reaction to Drake hadn’t changed much in twelve hours. Her core heated and shook, quivering with anticipation.
How fast could they get to the nearest closet?
“Wha—what are you doing here?” She searched