Page 55 of Claimed By the Boss

“I would love to, but this is a special project I’ve been assigned,” I tell her, keeping it vague on purpose. “It’s got a very tight deadline, so I can’t really stop.”

Kara raises a brow at this. Maybe I’ve said too much without meaning to. We don’t usually get special projects.

“What is it?”

“Oh, just some custom software for a high-level client,” I say, keeping my tone casual.

Her mouth presses into a thin line, and I catch the moment her expression changes. It looks like jealousy. If nothing else, she’s read between the lines that this task came directly from the top. And considering I’m still the new girl here, I imagine that doesn’t sit right with her.

If I weren’t so stressed about everything else, I’d probably worry about this, but I don’t have the bandwidth for it.

She nods once. “Right,” she says, a slight edge in her voice. “Well, if you want to grab a coffee any time, just let me know.”

Her words sound kind, but her tone is cold. I’ve gone from potential friend to direct competitor. Then again, she may be acting weird because she knows the truth about who Damien is.

I’ve started to wonder lately if everyone knows and the joke has always been on me. Once I learned the truth, it became obvious. I noticed the extra cameras in the hallways. I paid more attention to the high level of encryption on all our email. And it struck me as odd how much security we have for a tech firm.

I lean back in my chair and press a hand to my stomach. I’m not showing yet, but there’s a tightness in my pants that wasn’t there before. Soon it will be something I won’t be able to hide. Not from my coworkers, and definitely not from Damien.

That means I have two choices. I can either tell him, or I can start the process of finding a new job.

Neither feels like a particularly good option.

I pull up the code again, trying to distract myself, but my fingers don’t move. I sit there, staring at the screen, feeling a wave of anxiety. If I tell him, will he want the baby? Will he be angry I didn’t say something sooner?

Do I even want him to know? Do I want to be with a man who is potentially dangerous? A man who asks me to create listening software that the NSA would be afraid of?

Plus, if anyone were to find out about this little program I’m working on, Damien would probably be arrested. I don’t want that. If nothing else, I don’t want the father of my child to go to jail.

I do care about him. Even after everything I know, he’s rooted his way so deeply into my heart that I don’t think I could stop caring about him if I tried. But I also don’t want to become someone I don’t recognize, and that’s exactly what’s happening to me.

I rub my temples and close my eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

The cursor on the screen blinks like it’s waiting for me to make a decision. Write the next line. Complete the next block. Finish the system that will help him listen in on someone. Or I can walk away from this. I can put an end to this right now, tell him I can’t complete the code, and leave this job forever.

I don’t want to be responsible for what happens with this software. I don’t know what damage this program might inflict. Then again, if I don’t do it, someone else might come along and build something even worse.

I start typing again, forcing myself to focus. I already crossed the line by saying yes. I’ve already committed to this. Finishing it is the least I can do.

Hours pass without me noticing. The office gets quieter, the soft hum of machines fading into the background. Most of the staff has gone home by now, and the overhead lights have dimmed automatically. I don’t realize how late it is until my phone buzzes with a low-battery warning. I glance at the clock and see it’s almost nine. I’ve completely lost track of time.

I sit back, rub my eyes, then save my progress and lock the files behind biometric encryption. Only Damien and I have access. No one else can open them.

I gather my things and step into the hallway. It’s dark and still, making my footsteps echo louder than they should. I pass the break room, the main conference space, and the wall of glass that overlooks the city. The lights from the skyline glitter like a sea of eyes. Watching. Waiting.

When I get to the elevator, I pause. My reflection in the metal doors looks different somehow. A little more tired. A little more uncertain. I touch my stomach again, barely breathing. One way or another, this secret won’t stay hidden for long. I just hope I can figure out what to do before everything changes.

I toss and turn that night, arguing with myself about what I should do. Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep, and when I wake up, the answer has come to me so clearly I almost laugh.

I get to the office before the sun rises and sit at my desk. I have a steaming cup of tea next to me, but I already know that by the time I drink it, it’ll be lukewarm. I’m too lost in this project to pay much attention to anything else. I hardly look up as peoplestart to trickle in, and I ignore all my emails. All I can focus on is the code.

Because I’m not just building what Damien asked for anymore. I’m building something else, too.

A way in. A door only I can see.

I want to know what he’s doing. I want to hear the things he doesn’t tell me, see the choices he makes when no one’s watching. I want to know the kind of man my child’s father will be, so I can decide whether he even knows this child exists.

The back door is subtle and elegant, so well-hidden that only the most adept coder would even realize it’s there. It’ll ping a secure relay server I’ve designed off-grid, one that only I can access. From there, I can tap into the audio feed once the system goes live. Whatever Damien hears, I’ll hear too. And then I can have a better idea of what I’m getting myself into.