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“She isn’t. I… I still haven’t been able to find her.”

“That’s okay.” He gestures for me to leave the desk, to go to him. “Come with me, Loni. I’ll help you search.”

Oh. It hits me suddenly.Oh. He’s not mad at me for coming in here. I read that way wrong. Adrian… he’s shitting bricks that I might’ve seen something I wasn’t supposed to.

And I did, didn’t I?

“It can wait,” I tell him. “I want to ask you about this first.”

“About what?”

I hold up the pair of folders. The one with my name on it is understandable. With his legacy and his wealth, I’d think him an idiot if he didn’t run a background check on me. But the sheaf of papers in the other one? It doesn’t make sense.

“I saw these on your desk. You want to explain them?”

A muscle tics in his jaw. “Not particularly.”

I figured as much.

“Okay.” I tuck the folders under my arm. Adrian’s fingers flex, eager to snatch them from me… which is all the morereason why I keep them close. “How about this black book, huh?” I turn to the page marked with the ribbon. “Maxwell and Dimmity’s. Why is information on my firm in your book?”

Names. I recognize all of these names. My bosses. Some of my co-workers; recent ones, and those who have moved on. There’s Bradley Figueroa, a sweet guy I dated for six months under my supervisor’s nose before some puritanical ‘co-workers can’t date’ clause ended with Bradley in the UK, and our relationship over.

His name is crossed out so fiercely, the page is ripped.

What the hell is that about?

I show Adrian what I’m looking at, waiting for an answer.

He purses his lips. His fingers tap against his upper thigh, and I’d bet all the money in his account that, if I plucked the unlit cigarette from behind his ear and offered to light it, he’d agree.

I wait.

He sighs, resigned. “I have stake in that firm.”

“Monetary?”

“A little. But more like I have a vested interest in their staff.”

Hewhat? “What do you mean by that?”

I thought one thing already based on the files I was looking at before he walked into the study. But this… I don’t understand it.

Or maybe I didn’t want to.

“Do you really want to know?”

No. “Yes.”

“Then it’s pretty simple. My mentor insisted that they hire you.” He pauses a moment. “It was a favor to me.”

I blink, unable to say anything in response to that bombshell.

And then, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he tells me: “If I knew where you were, I could keep tabs on you without ever having to leave Harmony Heights. Your promotions, your moves… I had a hand in all of it.”

There it is. Confirmation I never knew I needed.

“You…” My mouth works, but nothing comes out. I give my head a clearing shake. “All this time, I thought I got my promotions through my hard work.” A scoff as my heart fuckingshatters. “Figures. I haven’t earned anything my entire life.”