CHAPTER 8
Elena
“If we were doing roadwork on both jobs, why two codes? What’s the difference between them?” he asks, leaning on his elbow to look at my screen.
“When a project is starting, it falls under one division, and once the well is under production, it goes to another division. I think there’s at least one more division in there.” I glance over at the notes I’ve scrawled on my spiral to make sure I’ve got it right.
“Start-up cost versus maintenance cost?” he suggests.
“At a high level, yes. That’s how Bill explained it to me.” Addler’s been a quick study, which makes it even more urgent I fix the mess I inherited before he comes across it. “Though corporate has to let us know when it switches from one to another. Sometimes the time frame changes.”
I thought yesterday was bad, but this setup is infinitely worse. At least when we were at the office, we were on opposite sides of a wide conference table. Now we’re sitting at one corner of a kitchen table, shoulder to shoulder, sharing my computer screen despite him being able to open the invoice on his computer also. Most of the time, the only thing between us is the subtle scent of his aftershave.
Addler straightens, his attention going to the notes he’s typing into the laptop. The few times I’ve been able to steal a glance haven’t gotten me anything. If the background on the screen is the image of the prize buck Bill got a couple of years ago, I’m fairly certain it’ll be his profile. A new user would have set up his own background, wouldn’t he? Did Addler even have time to set something up for himself?
I glance at the lower corner of my screen to check the time. It’s almost the end of the day, and I have come no closer to getting my hands on that list. If Addler would just walk away for a couple of minutes, I could look through File Explorer for anything that might help track down who I need to contact.
“Do you need a break?” Addler’s voice interrupts my thoughts. He looks genuinely concerned.
“Yes, that’d be great.” I cross my fingers, hoping he’ll walk away.
He leans against the back of the chair, stretching his arms. Once again, I’m struck by the sheer size of the man. At six foot six, with his solid build, he’s a sight. Add to that his style, and you have a fully rounded distraction I don’t need right now.
He made the same impact when he first showed up on campus. Our high school football coach was pissed about missing the opportunity to have him on the team. He witnessed Addler going after one of the football players who’d beaten up on another student. While Coach put a stop to the fight, he was impressed Addler could match speed and have reserve of power to knock the guy out. With a player like that, the team could have made it to state.
Unfortunately, Tony Mendoza had taken it as an affront on his position as the team captain. After that, he’d gone out of his way to bait Addler at every opportunity. I’m sure it didn’t make things any easier to have Tony living right next door. Though with a ranch the size of La Escuadra, next door is measured in miles.
“Let’s take a quick break,” he says, snapping me back to reality. “Then we’ll see where we stand.” He sets the laptop to his left and pushes back his chair to get up.
This is exactly what I’ve been afraid of. He’s ready to call it for today. This is going to be my only chance to get into that computer and see what I can find. “Okay.” I give him a big smile. “Let me set a report to run while we’re gone so I make the most of our time.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be right back.” Addler turns and walks through the kitchen. My heart starts beating faster with every step he takes. Once he disappears through the doorway, I put my hands under my seat and step back. It seems silly to try and be quiet when he knows we’re taking a break, but I do it anyway.
Moving quietly, I go around to stand behind his chair, careful not to disturb anything in case he notices. I glance in the direction he disappeared, to make sure I’m still alone, then I focus on the screen. Something’s wrong. “What the…” The entire screen is upside down. Is this a glitch?
I hesitate, taking a deep breath as I study the icons along the toolbar. Bill doesn’t have a single shortcut along the bottom—er, top. That would’ve made things so much simpler. Is this how he’s always had it set up?
I slide my finger over the mouse pad, but although I’m aiming toward the toolbar, the mouse is going in a different direction.
Seriously. My anxiety shoots through the roof. “Dammit,” I mumble, more to myself than not. I pull back and release a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Now what? I’m not even sure where the mouse was sitting when he left. Would he even notice? What am I thinking—this is Addler de Marco. Of course he’s going to notice. Those eyes of his—
“Fun trick.” Addler’s voice comes from right behind me.
I spin around, pulling my hand back, as if it’s been burned. I curl my fingers into my palm and bring it to my shoulder. “Addler.” It’s the only word I can get out. My throat’s constricting at his sudden appearance, and I’m pretty sure my brain’s about to short circuit.
He grasps my wrist, stepping closer. The air of indifference that always surrounds him is gone and so is the teasing grin. His expression is hard, and I can suddenly see the dangerous edge about him, something I’d only heard about in the past.
The de Marco name has been whispered about for several generations. Anything from their good looks to dark deals and illegal transactions. But I’d never actually seen anything that would give me cause for concern from Addler himself—until now. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I…” My brain goes blank because I hadn’t planned on what to do if I got caught. My primary concern was Bill, not me, and not what would happen if Addler figured out what I was doing. “Nothing.” I wet my lips. “I was walking away when I saw the screen.” That sounds weak even to my own ears.
“You’ve always been a little santita, Elena.” His grip tightens around my wrist. “Good girls don’t know how to lie.”
He’s not wrong. He has me in a panic, and I can’t even think fast enough to come up with something. I twist my wrist, trying to break loose, but it’s no use. I’m like an animal with its arm caught in a steel trap. What’s he going to do? “You’re hurting me.” Fear taints every word.
“Answer me,” he demands.
The sharp tone jolts through me. I swallow hard, struggling to put a thought together. He’s pointed out I can’t lie worth beans. What can I possibly do other than throw myself on his mercy… if he has any. I just can’t let this affect Bill. Not when it’s my fault.