Page 31 of The Orc of Wall Street

“These are special occasion meals for me,” Lewis explains, walking to the door and without the list of phony supplies. “So you’re making my week right now.”

I keep the grin on my face as he struggles with the heavy door, finally getting it closed after a few false starts.

Every other accountant in his department has a list of supplies, though the items aren’t the same as the vampire before me. In a few days time, we’ll see which list gets leaked to Fuck Face. The one the majority of my staff have, or the new hire’s.

* * *

“So I assume you're thrilled, hence the reason for the getup?” Sloane asks from the passenger seat of my jaguar.

I don’t know if she means my Armani suit or the car, but I love the clinking sound the bangles on her wrist make as she gestures broadly with a hand, starting from the dashboard to the backseat.

“Define thrilled,” I reply as we make our way to a much-deserved celebration dinner.

“Thrilled as in, you won, we won,” she corrects. “Are winning.”

She’s not wrong, since my hunch was right. It only took three nights for Craig and his fuck face to make a move for my inventory. My factory wasn’t swept through as much as it was ransacked. Needless to say, it’s a loss with a silver lining.

Nothing on Lewis’ list was leaked or swiped. From where I’m sitting, I’d say that means the pale and thirsty new hire isn’t the leak. Onto the next suspect. But first, dinner.

“Define winning,” I try, just to be difficult.

She’s going to love the steakhouse I’m taking her to, but that doesn’t mean I’m just about pleasing her. Teasing her is just as fun.

She scoffs and stares out the window. “Define redundant.”

I take the opportunity to sneak a peek at her knee-length getup, a violet and gray cocktail dress with an open back and sheer, cuffed sleeves that cling to her dainty wrists. Sure, maybe taking her out to celebrate is the opposite of keeping things professional, but the only one I can celebrate this win with is her. And since an orc has to eat, I might as well do so in good company.

“Actually, don’t. Let’s just enjoy the silence, since the conversation seems to be on repeat.”

“Save it for the enemy.” I pretend to wince as we pull up to the front entrance of Olivier’s Steakhouse, a decadent and swanky restaurant famous for its exclusive liquor and a menu to die for.

“Define enemy,” she quips, shooting me a coquettish look as her door sweeps open.

“Define talking,” I reply, taking the moment to enjoy the view of her ample caboose as she climbs out.

Talk about silver linings. I may not have the informant’s throat in my grip this red hot minute, but at least I have Sloane to look at. Sloane, talk about red hot. She’s a thief, sure, but one who’s on my side. It’s only a matter of time before she serves Craig’s mystery rat up to me. Until then, I can stay focused on tonight, hopefully thick with silver linings.

CHAPTER 16

Sloane

“Need some more coffee?”

I’m so focused on my computer work for once that I almost don’t notice Angel standing nearby. She has a pot of coffee in her hands and an expectant look on her face.

“So, do I look as sluggish as I feel?” I joke.

A smile spreads across Angel’s bright purple lips. But it’s still early in the morning, and I could really use some caffeine. I reach for my mug, panda-shaped and a gift from Lewis, and hold it out to Angel. She fills the cup and tosses me a few packets of hazelnut creamer, all of which tumble onto my lap.

Despite my blunder, Angel doesn’t remark on it, simply continuing on her way through the office. Well, that’s new. For once, Angel has nothing critical to say to me. And she remembered how much I love the hazelnut creamer, too.

I guess that shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, though. While she’s still a bit too high-strung for my tastes, she’s mellowed out quite a bit over the past few weeks.

With a happy sigh, I stir the creamer into my coffee and take a sip. What was once a stuffy, tense environment has started to feel like home to me. Working alone has always been my style, and in a way, I think I’ll always prefer that. But to say I don’t like working as part of this team would be a lie.

“How are things going with that intern?” Tarek asks. He strolls up to my workspace and grips the back of my desk chair.

It doesn’t hurt that I get to work with Tarek, either. I’m still not sure how to describe what’s going on between us, but whenever he’s around, my heart races faster than a greyhound on the track.

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