A Moment Like You (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers #2) - Claudia Burgoa Page 0,87
now before it becomes a real problem.
Five hours.
It takes me five hours to go through every document, spreadsheet, and bank statement before I understand why Santiago called me saying, it’s weird, not illegal, but if you have questions, call your boss.
Honestly, at this point, I’m not sure what to feel, but I’m upset enough to fire up the engine on one of Henry’s babies and head to the mansion. When I arrive, I park the car right by the entry but don’t bother to turn it off because maybe I can convince Vance to tie him up and put him right in front so I can accidentally run over him.
“Where is he?” I ask swinging the door open and carrying the binders I prepared while going through the bullshit he’s done for the past three years.
“Uh-oh,” Beacon mumbles, looking at me and the papers and then grinning. He throws a fist bump up in the air. “One month without chores.”
“Where is he?” I ask him again, instead of analyzing his nonsense.
“The gym,” he responds. “Helping Hayes with Mills’ exercises.”
Since running over Henry is out of the question, I throw him the car keys and say, “Have fun with it. If you scratch it, I’ll pay you.”
I make my way to the gym. Mills is on top of one of the orthopedic tables. His leg is covered with a tinfoil lookalike wrap and Henry is on the floor operating what looks like a keyboard without a screen.
“Soph,” he says, smiling at me when he sees me. “Everything okay?”
“Human resources is auditing everyone’s salaries and benefits,” I tell him. “Everyone’s!”
“It’s been a couple of weeks since you decided to stop working for the company,” he remarks.
“A heads up would’ve been nice. But surely, you’re aware that I run the place, so of course, I’m aware of the fact,” he responds with an attitude.
“Well, it’s obvious that I’m part of the company or human resources wouldn’t have gone through my file, would they?”
“They shouldn’t have,” he says, with a neutral tone. “Why would they when you’re already relocated. Everyone in HR knows that only I handle your file.”
“Everyone, but my brother,” I remind him, and he mouths, fuck!
I drop the binders next to him. “Those are copies of my salary history, my benefits, and of course, what HR doesn’t know.”
He grabs one of the thick binders and opens it.
“Funny, accounting doesn’t have any trace of my spending account, credit cards, or other expenses that you assured were included within the assistant’s benefits,” I start.
Then, I realize that Mills is sitting down watching next to Hayes. On the other side of the room, his other brothers stand with almost the same attention, as if this is a discussion they’ve been expecting.
“Did you forget to list my apartment as part of my benefits?” I continue ignoring the spectators. “You know where I found my spending account registered?”
He runs a hand through his hair, those green eyes looking at me. He’s partly annoyed and partly terrified. Good, I’m just getting started. “It’s one of your checking accounts, which is funny, because it happens to be our joint checking account. I have a joint checking account with you.”
I pull out the latest credit card he gave me before I moved to Oregon and drop it next to him. “Unlimited credit? Who gives his assistant unlimited credit?”
“What is the problem again?”
“You’ve been paying me from your personal accounts all this time,” I repeat.
“Just because you have access to my accounts, that doesn’t mean you can go through them,” he protests appalled.
“Really, you’re playing the victim now. Why did you do that?”
He sighs and looks around me, “Can someone take over this? I need to talk to her.”
“You can talk to her. We’re listening,” Beacon states.
Pierce rolls his eyes and walks toward us, but he stops in front of me and says, “I wish I had been there to see you pull up all this shit.”
“Did you know about it?” I question, wondering why they are here waiting for a show.
He gives me that Aldridge smirk that says, of course, I know everything. That’s when it hits me. These men know what I’m talking about. When did they become…brothers? I liked them more when they were at each other’s throats all the time.
“Fucking Aldridges,” I mumble as Henry and I march outside the gym and toward the main house, but instead of entering he opens the door of his car and drives us to my house.