Page 18 of Royal Deception (Royals of the Underworld #2)

CLARY

O ne of my many strengths, honed from years of working for Rory Brannagan, is my ability to find out anything I need. It’s part instinct, part survival skill. Working for a man like him has sharpened my instincts to a razor’s edge.

In our world, information is power, and I’ve learned that sometimes, the best way to get answers is to be whoever people need me to be.

I sit outside Veridex Headquarters, the company car idling as I run through my options. Bribery? Too risky. Hacking? Not my skillset. Threats? No, that’s more Rory’s style. I need something subtle. Something that gets me in without raising alarms.

Then it clicks.

No one trusts reporters—but they sure as hell fear them. A well-placed question, a suggestion that the wrong kind of press might be coming their way, and suddenly, people start talking.

I adjust my blouse, reaching into the glove compartment for a tin of fake IDs we keep for moments like this.

Clipping a press badge to my lapel, I step out of the car and stride into Veridex’s sleek, glass-walled lobby, moving like I belong here.

The receptionist barely looks up, and I don’t give her a chance to stop me.

My target is already locked in.

Miles Donovan. Vice President of Operations. Mark’s right-hand man. If there’s a leak in this company, he’ll know where it’s coming from.

I find his office just as he’s stepping out. He’s younger than I expected, mid-to-late thirties, sharp suit, expensive watch, the kind of guy who thinks he’s too important for small talk.

Good. I can work with that.

I step directly into his path, thrusting out a small lapel microphone. “Mr. Donovan, Amanda Beaumont, Sterling Business Weekly .” The fake name rolls off my tongue effortlessly. “I just need a quick statement on the recent Veridex security breach?—”

“No comment.” His tone is clipped, and he barely slows down.

I match his pace. “I’m writing a feature on corporate data security, and Veridex is at the center of?—”

“I don’t do interviews,” he cuts in, still walking.

“Not even when the public is questioning Veridex’s ability to protect its clients?” I press.

That gets him. A flicker of irritation. A slight hitch in his step.

But just as quickly, he recovers. “We’re handling the situation internally,” he says, his voice rising slightly as he approaches the elevator. He jabs the button repeatedly.

“If I could just get a quote?—”

He turns sharply, facing me head-on. “Look, Sterling Business Weekly —or whatever publication you claim to be from—I don’t have time for this. You want a quote? How about this—get the hell out of my face. Veridex is secure. No further comments.”

The elevator doors slide open, and before I can get another word in, he steps inside. The doors shut in my face.

I exhale slowly, pursing my lips.

Alright. If that’s how he wants to play it, fine.

Turning on my heel, I sink into one of the lobby’s armchairs, crossing my legs as I pull out my phone.

He’ll have to come back eventually. It’s still the middle of the day. And when he does, I’ll be waiting.

As I sit there, scrolling through my phone, I contemplate my next move. I can’t wait forever for Miles to return, so I need a new strategy.

The tap of high heels against the tiled floor catches my attention, and I glance up, hoping to see one of the other executives walking down the hall, but instead, I find myself locking eyes with a woman roughly my age with sleek, dark hair and a no-nonsense expression.

Then I glance down and see her shoes.

High-heeled. Black patent leather with the unmistakable red soles. Louboutins.

Expensive. Professional, but still a flex.

Bingo. I have my in.

“Those shoes are amazing,” I say as she passes. She slows down, a sudden change in her demeanor. “So Kate?” I ask.

That earns me a more genuine smile. “Good eye.”

I giggle. “Oh, my God. I’d sell my kidney for a pair of those beauties.”

She grins. “And I found them…” She drops her voice conspiratorially. “On Poshmark !”

I glance at the nameplate pinned to her blazer. Lena Calloway, Executive Assistant.

The name rings a bell, and I recall the dossier I gathered on Veridex. Lena is Miles’s assistant. This just keeps getting better.

“Lena, my boss must have forgotten to email you to let you know I was coming,” I say, standing up and holding out my hand.

With a careful flick of the wrist to brush off imaginary lint, I pull the fake name badge from my lapel and deposit it into my purse.

“Clary Woodcrest, Rory Brannagan’s PA. I’m here on some business with Mr. Donovan.

” I watch her reaction carefully, and she frowns.

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Donovan is on a business lunch right now.” She shakes her head. “I could rearrange a meeting, if you’d like?”

I pause, pretending to consider it. But I don’t need Miles anymore. I can work with Lena now that I’m here.

“Sorry about this,” she says, tone apologetic. “I would have been more prepared if I knew.”

“That’s fine. Our bosses can be so absent-minded sometimes, can’t they?”

Her lips quirk up. “Tell me about it. What would they do without us?”

“Is Miles hard to work for?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

“Miles doesn’t like people who waste his time. He’s… particular.”

“I get that. What about Mr. Veridan?”

“Mark?” she asks, her expression shifting for a moment. “He’s different. Likes to be more hands-on.”

An opening. I seize it. “His assistant must have their hands full, then.”

Lena hesitates, then sighs, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee. “You have no idea.”

I lean in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel like a shared secret. “What about this whole data breach thing? It’s crazy, right? That’s what Mr. Brannagan sent me over for.”

A half-truth is much easier to swallow than an outright lie, and Lena falls for it hook, line, and sinker. “I don’t know much, but I’ll tell you this. Jordan—that’s Mr. Veridan’s assistant—was in an absolute tizzy this morning. He was completely freaking out.”

I keep my expression neutral, but inside, I’m dancing for joy. It sounds like I’ve got a lead. I’ll bet Jordan knows more than he’s letting on if he’s freaking out like this.

“Mr. Brannagan was pretty angry too. I think he worries Brannagan Enterprises might be facing backlash for this just as much as Veridex.”

Lena nods. “It’s a mess. Maybe we can arrange for Mr. Brannagan and Mr. Donovan to have a meeting this afternoon to discuss things.”

I smile. “That would be great, but Mr. Brannagan is busy with another client all afternoon. I’ll have Mr. Brannagan email your boss and we can reschedule later,” I offer.

Lena frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ve got to get back to the office,” I lie, grabbing my purse. Just then, the elevator dings and I see Miles Donovan getting off.

“I’d better be going,” I say, taking off around another corner. I wait until Miles and Lena head into his office together before taking off down the hall. Now I know I’m looking for Mark’s assistant, someone named Jordan.

I scan the office nameplates and see Jordan Powell outside a door. It’s just one office down from Mark’s so I know I’m at the right place.

I hesitate only for a second before knocking on the door and stepping inside. Jordan glances up from his screen, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are bloodshot, hair a frazzled mess.

“May I help you?” he asks, tone sharp.

I shut the door behind me, keeping my movements calm and deliberate.

“I’m here on behalf of Rory Brannagan,” I say, voice even.

“He sent me to check on the data breach. It’s a major security concern, and we’re worried Mr. Veridan has his hands full after the…

” I lower my voice. “The incident a few weeks back.”

Jordan’s eyes narrow slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I give him a knowing look. “Come on, Jordan. You’re Mark Veridan’s assistant. If anyone in this building knows what’s really going on, it’s you.”

He exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair. “Even if I did know anything, I shouldn’t be talking to you about it.”

I tilt my head slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel like we’re on the same side.

“Off the record, then. I get it—no one wants to be caught in the middle of something like this. But from what I hear, this whole situation has you on edge. And I’m guessing that’s not just because of work stress. ”

His jaw tightens. He taps his fingers against the desk, debating something internally before finally shaking his head. “I don’t want to get him in trouble,” he mutters.

“Him?” I ask, pressing lightly.

He exhales heavily. “My ex, Darren Webb.”

I lift an eyebrow. “Your ex?”

Jordan lets out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. He’s in the IT department here. And the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat’ should be posted in every office breakroom. He was crazy. Hated all the time I spent with Mark. He was convinced I was screwing him.”

I tilt my head, letting Jordan talk. “And were you?”

Jordan rolls his eyes. “Not a chance. Mark is as straight as the day is long and my boss to boot. But Darren never believed that. He thought I was making the job more important than him.”

My instincts are on high alert now. “What happened when you broke up?”

“He lost it,” Jordan says, frowning. “Told me I’d regret it. That he’d make sure Mr. Veridan knew I wasn’t as loyal as he thought.”

My gut tightens. “And now there’s a data breach.”

Jordan nods grimly.

“Do you have anything more on him? Anything concrete that could point us in his direction?”

Jordan hesitates, then grabs his mouse. “I don’t have solid proof, but I was just scrolling through his socials. Figured I might find something.”

I lean over him and scan the page. Darren’s Facebook profile is pulled up. It’s filled with photos of nights out with friends, a few political rants, the usual. But then, something catches my eye in his friends list.

A familiar name.

Aleksey Mikhailov.

It’s like a switch flips in my brain, my pulse kicking up a notch. I know that name. One of Volkov’s most trusted men. One of the bastards responsible for Rose Brannagan’s kidnapping last year.

I keep my expression neutral, swallowing down my reaction as I casually point at the screen. “Who’s that?”

Jordan barely glances at the name. “Oh, uh, I don’t know. Some friend of Darren’s, I guess. Why?”

I force a small shrug. “Just curious.”

Inside, my mind is already working a mile a minute. If Darren is really friends with Aleksey, this is the connection we’ve been looking for.

Making my excuses, I leave, knowing I have the information I need now. I don’t even bother to hide my smug grin as I step into Rory’s office. He’s at his desk, sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning something on his laptop, but he looks up the second I walk in.

“I take it you found something,” he says, arching a brow.

I sit on the corner of his desk, crossing my legs.

“Oh, you could say that.” I lean forward, enjoying the way his eyes travel to my legs.

“I talked to the assistants. Mark’s assistant Jordan has an ex-boyfriend, Darren Webb, who works in Veridex’s IT department.

According to Jordan, Darren was jealous, bitter, and hell-bent on revenge after their breakup. ”

Rory’s expression turns thoughtful. “And you think Darren leaked the data?”

I nod. “I think he leaked it to someone who’d pay well for it.” I hold his gaze. “Someone like Aleksey Mikhailov.”

That gets his full attention. Rory leans forward, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Aleksey?”

I nod. “Darren’s Facebook friends list. He’s connected to Aleksey.”

Rory mutters a curse under his breath. He pushes back from his desk, standing as he rubs a hand along his jaw. “That makes a hell of a lot of sense. Aleksey owns The Gilded Cage .”

“The nightclub?”

“Not just any nightclub. An LGBT+ club near Veridex’s headquarters,” Rory confirms. “If they met there, Darren might have drunkenly ranted to Aleksey about his ex and Aleksey could have offered to help him get revenge.”

My stomach does a little flip at the thrill of putting the pieces together.

“So Darren gets dumped, gets pissed, and decides to make Mark Veridan’s company pay for it.

He reaches out to Aleksey, who’s more than happy to take whatever information he can get.

” I exhale, shaking my head. “Damn, I’m good. ”

Rory chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re very good, Clary.”

I flash him a mischievous grin. “Good enough to make you forget about my punishment for disobeying your orders last night?”

His blue eyes darken, his hand coming out to rest lightly on my thigh. I swallow, wondering what he’s about to do to me.