up with a smile, dropping my phone over the side of the tub before glancing back at Henry.
I lean over and high-five his plastic hand. “Crushed it.”
23
I've always been an “in your face” guy. No subtlety required. But the image on my phone as I wait for the coffee maker between meetings is subtle and arresting.
Piles of bubbles, two tantalizing rises of flesh above them.
My lucky Jet in between.
Since Daisy sent it to me yesterday, it's been all I can do not to head straight for her place. But tonight is game night, so I decided I could be patient.
Still, I'd be lying if I said I hadn't checked out this picture at least once an hour.
I'd like to make it my screensaver if other people wouldn't see it too.
Hell, I'll make it wallpaper. Not on my computer, in my condo.
I'm laughing and turned on at once. I didn't know that was possible.
“One more week.”
I click off my phone and jerk my head up to see Xavier in the doorway of the breakroom. “Until?"
"The gala."
He heads for the hallway, and I fall into step with him. Xavier continues to his office and shuts the door behind me.
Perhaps he wants to tell me I’ve won.
“There was an oversight in your latest recommendation, with the code they’re claiming is proprietary,” he says instead. “The founder might have borrowed from work he did before leaving a previous employer.”
The hairs on my neck stand up. “He wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to steal from one of those companies.”
“According to you or a judge?” His jaw tics. “Weren’t you on an investor conference call with the founder?”
The one I got off early because I was… getting off. “Yes.”
“Listen, Ben, I know you have someone in your life, and I’m very glad to see that because it will make you a better person. But it doesn’t take the place of due diligence in the office.”
My gut tightens. “I understand. It won’t be an issue.”
Sure, I’ve canceled a few after-hours meetings. And taken my mom out of rehab and gotten her settled in her place, an idea I got after going to see her with Daisy earlier in the week. Still, I bet Holt would have a field day if he saw my personal credit card yesterday for the flowers, spa, and tequila.
I stalk down the hall to my brother’s office. “How am I just hearing about a possible lawsuit against this company?”
He glowers. “I got word thirty minutes ago. I told you there were issues.”
“Their asset valuations,” I clarify. “Not with whether they have the rights to the tech. Dammit, Tris. If I lose this deal—” which almost certainly would mean losing the award, “—it’ll be because of my own brother.”
I head out and he follows me. I mentally run through the things I should’ve done or could’ve done to prevent this. The paperwork my associates did on the front end.
Despite what I said, it’s not Tris’s fault. At the end of the day, the responsibility is mine.
"Where are you going?” He follows me into the stairwell, calling after me.
“Out.”
I take the stairs down, stalking out to the street, unsure of where I’m going.
I call the founder of my potential investment directly and demand an explanation.
“It’s baseless,” he assures me. “I wrote the code after I left.”
“There’s nothing you took from a server when you left. A database. Anything.”
He hesitates, and that beat of silence has my gut twisting.
“Of course not. But you know it’s hard to completely distinguish the ideas I had independently from projects I was working on at the time.”
His words don’t reassure me.
“I get that. But if there’s even a hint of an issue—if one of those companies files and you can’t get a judge to throw it out on day one—you can’t afford to pay the legal fees for a multi-year court battle.”
I hang up, realizing I’m halfway to Daisy’s office.
On impulse, I hail a cab to take me the rest of the way.
I need to see her, if only for five minutes. She’ll listen, and calm me down.
I used to get through work problems on my own, but this time is different. With Xavier getting ready to announce his successor and the awards gala next week, the stakes are higher.
When I get to Daisy’s office and head up to the second floor, I catch sight of something through the windowed panel that makes the floor under me shift.
She’s standing in the foyer, looking gorgeous and talking to another guy.
He