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“Come to my office,” he says, and I follow behind him as he rushes.
He sits behind his desk and pulls up the site.
I see a skull and crossbones with the wordsGAME OVER, along with a countdown.
A chill runs up my spine because I’m not responsible for this. It’s next level.
“Who did you piss off?”
He rubs his hands over his face. “I don’t know. I don’t fucking know!”
I breathe in. “This is a PR nightmare.”
“What do I do?”
“We need to release a statement, so employees know what’s going on. You need to make the public aware as well. Announce that you are committed to transparency and accountability.”
“Yes, that’s really good,” he says. “And then what?”
“You’ll need media training, coaching on how to answer questions that you will inevitably be asked.”
He slams his hand on his desk. “I just realized what the timer is counting down to.”
I meet his eyes. “What?”
“My runway show at London Fashion Week.”
I somehow escapeLustre as he has a meltdown. I wondered how long it would take his cybersecurity team to notice there had been a major breach in their database. They should’ve realized it weeks ago. However, I’m not sure my breach and this one are related. I tend to fly under the radar. Whoever did this wanted him to know they were destroying him. But who?
I told him to make sure he always had security on him and towatch his back, and then I left him shaking like a leaf. If he wasn’t such a horrible person and didn’t treat people so terribly, I might feel bad. Unfortunately, these are the consequences of his actions. He’s finally reaping what he’s sown, but it’s obvious that I’m not the only person onto Josh. Someone else is too.
My car slows at Park Towers, and when I get out, I’m surprised cameras aren’t waiting to take photographs. It’s a weeknight though, when things are much slower. The weekends are different.
As soon as I walk into the foyer, I pass Harper, dressed in evening wear. “Hey, Harp.”
She smiles wide and greets me, “Asher. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Having dinner with Weston and Carlee,” I tell her.
“Tell them I said hello. I’m meeting Micah for dinner and drinks.”
“Have fun,” I say, and we go our separate ways.
There is something about Micah Rhodes that has always made my alarm bells go off. I make a mental note to do more digging on him as I take the elevator to Weston’s.
I knock, and the door swings open.
Billie stands there with a grin. “Hi.”
My eyes slide up and down her body. “Hi.”
She grabs my hand and pulls me in. We move to the table, where a set of dice and a notepad are sitting.
“Gambling?” I ask.
“I’m teaching them how to play a game we love playing back in Texas. It’s called Farkle,” Carlee tells me.
“It’s actually really fun,” Billie says, moving closer to me, but I keep my hands to myself to respect Weston.