Page 44 of Kisses and Paperclips

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand down my jaw. Serena didn’t strike me as the type to hand over money without receipts. But that ledger told a different story—clean monthly payments, neat round numbers, and no paper trail to back them up.

A quarter million dollars in consultant fees? With no deliverables, no contracts?

Nah. Something wasn’t adding up.

I opened a spreadsheet and started piecing together what I remembered. Just a glance—but the numbers stuck. Not because they were loud, but because they were too quiet. Too perfect. Like someone expected them to disappear into the background.

And I couldn’t let that slide.

I reached for my phone, scrolling past a dozen names before landing on the one that mattered.

Kam Barkley.

He answered on the second ring. “Julien. Thought you forgot about me.”

“I need eyes on something,” I said. “Discreetly.”

“Damn. You called me for work? Must be serious.”

I didn’t laughed. “It is.”

Kam wasn’t just a forensic accountant. He was the kind of man who knew how to make paper talk. We’d worked together back when I was still wearing the Brooks name with pride, before my father handed everything I built to someone else. Kam was the guy I called when I needed answers no one wanted to give.

“Echelon Ventures, LLC,” I said. “Find out who owns it, who they’re moving money for, and what they’re covering up.”

There was a pause. Then a low whistle. “You already suspect something?”

I stared out the window, the skyline glowing like nothing could touch it. Atlanta always looked clean from this high up. But I knew better. “Yeah. I suspect everything.”

“Text me what you got,” he said. “I’ll dig.”

I ended the call and sat there in the silence, elbows on my knees, letting the weight of it settle.

I wanted to trust her.

Hell, part of me already did—more than I should.

But the other part? The part that had been burned before? It couldn’t ignore what I saw.

And if Serena’s mixed up in something, whether she knows it or not, I need to find out.

Because if this trail leads where I think it does, and one kiss won’t be enough to fix it.

There was a soft knock on the door.

“Julien, you got a minute?”

My mother stood in the doorway, her usual poised exterior slightly off-kilter. The subtle tension in her shoulders wasn’t something most people would catch, but I’d been reading her since I was old enough to understand that love in our house was doled out in expectations, not affection.

I sat up straighter, closing my laptop with deliberate calm. “For you? Always.”

She stepped in, her smiled warm but not quite reaching her eyes. Her gaze lingered on the closed laptop like she wanted to ask what I was doing, but decided against it.

“How do you like your new office?” she asked, glancing around like she hadn’t hand-picked every inch of this place herself.

“It’s nice,” I said. “Big desk. Comfortable chair. Window view.”

“It could use a little personality.”

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