When Morning Comes. Harmony Evans

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СКАЧАТЬ will not tolerate anyone destroying what I’ve worked so hard to build. Paxton Investment Securities must prevail unscathed. Is that clear, Ms. Hilliard?”

      Sterling Paxton, the firm’s owner and CEO, stood at the boardroom window with his back to Autumn, his pale white hands clasped loosely behind him. His stance was relaxed, yet every terse word sounded as if it were uttered through gritted teeth.

      A chill threaded through Autumn’s spine, warning her to keep her guard up even as she sat frozen in place.

      So this was what a bug must feel like, she thought, right before it’s about to get squashed.

      Sterling turned abruptly on his heel and smacked his hands together.

      “I said, is that clear, Ms. Hilliard?”

      Autumn winced and drew in a sharp breath before smiling sweetly. “Of course, Mr. Paxton. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. If Isaac Mason is committing securities fraud, rest assured, I will find out.”

      Sterling’s lips thinned. “How long do you think that will take?”

      Autumn resisted the urge to shrug, knowing he would be offended. Every client expected immediate results and it was her job to manage expectations. She was a damn good investigator, but she wasn’t a miracle worker.

      “A few weeks. Maybe a month. Undercover work is never an exact science,” she cautioned.

      Sterling slid his hands into his pockets, and she heard the tinny jingle of coins.

      “Isaac must never know he’s under surveillance.”

      “And he won’t,” Autumn affirmed with a nod. “Having Isaac mentor me as a new employee will enable me to build trust without arising suspicion.”

      Sterling’s gaze narrowed. “For your sake, he better not.”

      Autumn bristled at his veiled threat, but she said nothing. It was obvious Sterling didn’t trust Isaac. What she didn’t know was why, but she’d surely find out, on her own terms and in her own way.

      “You have full access to all his files, reports and records,” Sterling continued. “I sent you the log-in information to our internal file system via email last night.”

      He crossed the room and sat at the head of the table. The leather chair squeaked under the weight of his large frame.

      “You and I are the only ones with knowledge of why I hired you,” he said, folding his hands slowly. “Not even my daughter, whom you’ll be meeting shortly, knows about this.”

      Autumn sensed extreme urgency in his tone. “I understand the need for confidentiality,” she reassured him. “As soon as I have something of interest, I’ll report back.”

      The conference room door opened and a tall, slender blonde entered into the room with a thick sheaf of papers in her hand. She closed the door behind her and glared at Sterling. But when she saw he wasn’t alone, she took a step back and Autumn watched as her face quickly morphed into a smile that was as fake as the handbags sold on a New York City street corner.

      The woman moved toward her and extended her hand. “I’m Felicia Paxton, director of human resources. You must be Autumn Hilliard.”

      Autumn stood. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

      She shook Felicia’s clammy hand and silently wished for a tissue. She was five feet eight, and Felicia towered over her in an oppressive way that was probably intimidating to a lot of people. But not to Autumn. She wasn’t afraid of anything, except failing to solve a case.

      “Please have a seat,” Felicia instructed. She turned to Sterling and glanced at her watch. “It’s 8:55 a.m. now. The meeting was supposed to start at 9:00 a.m., correct?”

      “Yes,” Sterling answered in a bored tone, not bothering to look up. He seemed engrossed in scrolling through his smartphone. “We were just chatting while we were waiting for you.”

      A blush washed over Felicia’s taut cheekbones. She walked around the table, pulled out a chair and settled down directly across from Autumn.

      “In addition to being CEO, my father seems to love to do my job.”

      Autumn took Felicia’s contentious tone as a subtle warning that anyone who dared trifle with her had just better think twice.

      Sterling eyed the stack of papers Felicia had on the table. “Not that part,” he barked. “With the level of technology that’s available today, why is it that our employees still have to fill out all these forms?”

      Felicia uncapped a pen and held it out to Autumn. “Two words, Father. Paper trail.”

      Autumn produced one from her notepad, not from her ear, where it normally hid in a mass of natural curls.

      She held it up. “I have one, thanks.”

      Felicia frowned, as if she took it personally that Autumn had her own ink. “The government still loves killing trees,” she continued. “And I for one have to agree with them. Paper is more permanent. Electronic records can be hacked or deleted.”

      Sterling’s eyes narrowed and caught Autumn’s. “My daughter seems to have forgotten that paper can be shredded,” he said dryly.

      Felicia ignored him, but Autumn could almost feel how much she wanted to roll her baby blues at her father.

      With one finger, she pushed the stack of papers toward Autumn. “I prefer you complete these now, but if you must, you can bring them back tomorrow. I’m here by 7:00 a.m. sharp every day.”

      Autumn nodded and dutifully began to fill out the ream of paperwork, starting with her social security number. It was as fake as the new identity the government had bestowed upon her a few years ago. Just one of the so-called perks of settling out of court in one of the most high profile cases of corporate fraud in the United States.

      She was just starting to fill out her name when the door suddenly opened. Her head snapped up, curls brushing against the side of her jaw, as Isaac Mason walked into the room, his stride purposeful.

      It only took one look and Autumn knew this was one man she wouldn’t mind sticking close to all night long.

      Isaac wore a tailored gray suit cut to perfection, a crisp white shirt, maroon silk tie and black leather shoes shined to a gloss. It was standard corporate attire and likely designer, based upon his wealth and prominent position in the company, but she couldn’t tell and didn’t care. It wasn’t his clothes that attracted her.

      It was his face. Isaac was boyishly handsome with clean-shaven, mocha skin, a long straight nose that flared out just enough to be interesting, and full lips that invited lust.

      Autumn found it especially difficult not to openly stare at his lean, muscular body. There was something irreverent about the way it seemed almost caged beneath the fabric of his suit.

      So as discreetly as possible, she sized him up. From the top of his close-cropped black hair to the tips of his Brooks Brothers shoes. Because that’s what private investigators were supposed to do. No СКАЧАТЬ