Page 12 of The Orc of Wall Street

But this table was clean when I left it, and I don’t drink soda.

She shrugs, sitting down at the table and kicking her legs up on its varnished surface.

“Mystery of life, I suppose,” she says.

“Right.”

I sit down across from her, not dignifying the home invasion with a remark, before sliding one of the soda cans she placed here across the table. It slips off the table onto the hardwood floor, fizzing carbonated poison.

Sloane doesn’t even bother to catch it.

“Oh, I don’t drink soda,” she says. “But I can clean that up.”

I put my palm to my temple and cringe.

“Then why on earth did you set these here?”

She sits up straight, as though surprised by new information. “I didn’t.”

I stare back at her in confusion, trying to read her face for any signs of dishonesty. I can read nothing in her features.

“Okay. If you didn’t really set these here, you need to tell me now. Because otherwise, we have a problem.”

She laughs. She might not admit to it, but I know it was her. While Sloane cleans up the mess she was entirely responsible for, I pull out my files and my laptop, staring angrily at the can of soda still sitting there.

Doesn’t drink soda, and doesn’t know if I drink soda, but still snuck in two cans. I suddenly wonder if the soda is code for something. I have so many questions about carbonated beverages now.

She pushes the chair toward me, the back of the chair facing me with her legs dangling over both sides.

As I begin typing on my laptop, preparing the presentation, Sloane suddenly addresses me, her hand pressed down on her chin. “Fix those encryption problems yet?”

I look up at her apparent disinterest, and it irks me. The veneer she wears at work has faded, and I’m left with a woman who clearly doesn’t want to be here but struggles to keep up pretenses anyway.

“That all depends. What encryption problems are you talking about?”

“The weak encryption system that I could get through in my sleep,” she replies. I can feel my pulse quickening, my blood boiling in response. “You know, if I can bypass your security so easily, your rivals probably can, too.”

I imagine the smug smile on Fuck Face Craig as he and his spy tear apart my defenses.

“Well, can you fix it?” I ask.

She laughs.

“Sure, I can fix it. As soon as I stop being your assistant and reveal my identity to the entire world.”

“Okay, good point.”

She stares at me as my fingers hover over the keyboard. I’m now suddenly uncertain whether my presentation means anything.

“So what’s the plan then?” I demand irritably.

She takes the still-full soda can and fidgets with it, scraping it against the hardwood dining table. I tune it out as best I can, refusing to give her any power over me.

“Well, assuming whoever’s working for your rival is even remotely competent –”

“Which they certainly are.”

She nods, more offended by my interruption than anything.

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