His cool gaze traveled from her empty desk around the room to find her. “Security is ready to close the building for the night.”
“I just need another thirty—”
“You have five.”
She had worked for Mr. Beck for three years, so she knew that, when he used that clipped tone of voice, there would be no arguing with him.
Going to her desk, she saved her work then exited out of the file.
“How much longer before you’ll be able to give me an answer on Torpedo?”
Placing her nearly empty coffee cup in the trash can, Haley grabbed her purse from the desk drawer. “Friday.”
Seeing she was gathering her personal items, Beck paused before walking through the door of his private office. “That’s three days away,” he remarked. “Usually, it only takes you a couple of days.”
Walking to the doorway, which was in front of her desk that led into Lucas’s office, Haley curiously halted. Mr. Beck had never made any attempt to engage her in conversation on any of the previous assignments. She had been treated as if she were just another worker bee, intent on bringing Desmond Beck’s philanthropic endeavors to fruition. Having the benefit of being one of the charities he had aided, Haley often marveled at the large scope of businesses and organizations Mr. Beck worked with.
Haley could now understand his wish to keep a hands-off approach with Moonbeam. Many of the charities that were asking for aid were scams that would benefit the organizers more than those they were supposed to fund. Using her to weed out those scammers left him more time to focus on those who were truly needful.
“I had to ask Mr. Owens to send over a couple of forms verifying employee statuses for five workers and a business ID number for the business he purchased the air conditioners from that go to his apartment buildings,” Haley explained. “I asked for the information yesterday afternoon, and he hasn’t responded. I was going to call him again before I left when you came in to tell me security’s waiting for me to leave.”
Mr. Beck looked irritated. “You could have told me you needed to make an important call.”
Haley shrugged. “I’m just being overly cautious. Mr. Owens’ figures all seem to be factual, yet I want to double-check with the amount of money he is asking for you to buy into Torpedo. It makes me wary of giving you the go-ahead.”
Mr. Beck casually slid his hand into the suit of his pants. “For the amount of money Owens is asking from me, I won’t only take your opinion. Not only am I having his financials checked out, but I’m having him personally investigated. I don’t want any surprises coming to bite me on the ass if he isn’t as legit as the social image he loves to parade around to get donations for Torpedo.”
“Then we’re in accord.” Haley gave him a nod as she reached for the doorknob. “Good evening, Mr. Beck.”
“Good evening, Haley.”
Her eyes flickered toward his direction, at the way he had said her name. Had she heard a seductive edge to his voice, or was she imagining it?
Rolling her eyes inwardly at herself, she was sure she had. Mr. Beck, in the three years she had been employed by him, had never given her the slightest hint that he saw her as anything but the human calculator she was paid to be. The professional aura he exhibited when she worked with him provided a comfortable safety zone. So much so that she couldn’t remember when the last time was she had used her inhaler.
Leaving Mr. Beck in her office, Haley saw Lucas behind his desk, talking to someone on the phone. With a slight wave of his hand, he acknowledged that she was leaving, pressing a button beside the phone to release the glass door leading to the lobby of Mr. Beck’s suite of offices.
Taking out her cell phone, she sent a text to Nadia. Anytime she was out of town, Nadia and she would regularly maintain contact out of the safety for the other. It was a leftover remnant of when Nadia had disappeared with Dante three years ago, when she had gone to meet him for the first time. While Nadia now had a whole platoon of people concerned about her, Nadia was her sole friend. Other than her, she could disappear from the face of the earth, and no one would notice.
Pocketing her cell phone back in her suit jacket, she pressed the button for the elevator, hearing footsteps coming up behind her.
“Working late tonight?”
“I lost track of time,” she admitted, her shoulders stiffening.
Zach Fulton was her least favorite coworker whom she came into contact with. Thankfully, the extent of their contact was simply briefly passing each other in the hallways or in the breakroom that was beside the employee restrooms. Haley made it a point on her transient stay in Queens City to limit the time she spent in the breakroom, finding them more of a breeding ground for gossip than the respite from work for which it was intended.