Page 6 of The Mogul: Leonard

His grin widens even more as he stands up and puts his hands in his pockets. “If you insist, who am I to deny you a meal?”

I shake my head as I follow him through the stands and return to the Mexican one, this time to buy a meal.

When we finally get home again, I dread the moment we will open the door. I can hear from the landing of our apartment the shooting sounds from the video games on TV and the loud voices of the guys in front of it. A lot of them, if the noise is any indication.

Spike grins. I clench my jaw in frustration.

Every day is the same. A bunch of people I don’t know invade our living room, play games, eat food, and drink beer. Four years ago, when I was twenty-one, it was fun, at least initially. Then it became old fast, and the fact that I can’t kick them out drives me nuts.

I open the door and am greeted by at least ten guys I don’t know. The stench of weed is overwhelming, and I make an effort not to yell at them.

Spike runs to the couch and slips between the two who are playing. They curse at him for distracting them and punch him in the shoulder. He grabs the joint they are passing around and takes a drag. In the corner of the room, I spot Candy’s hurt face. Her smile dropped as soon as she saw Spike coming in with me. He has a crush on me and she has a crush on him, basically the triangle of unrequited love. Everyone is unhappy, and living together amplifies the feeling.

“You could at least bring some food since you’re always here,” I point out to no one in particular, but the disappointment dripping from each word is obvious to anyone listening.

One of the new guys grabs a bag of chips and waves it in my direction without even looking at me.

“Thanks,” I murmur while I walk toward my bedroom.

I debate whether to stop by Candy and cheer her up. She is a sweet, shy girl in love with a jerk. I know it’s not my fault that Spike likes me, but sometimes I feel guilty about the situation. She is staring at him with love-sick eyes, and I decide to leave her to it. I don’t have the patience right now to deal with those two.

I close the door behind my back and lean on it. Shouts and laughs come from the other side, and I can feel the annoyance gripping my stomach.

Going back to my parents is not such a bad idea, after all.

3

Leonard

“You have got to be kidding me,” I whisper as I check the numbers for the billionth time.

Since Trish gave me the news about the missing money last week, I’ve spent every single free minute I’ve had digging into it. It vanished. Just like that, this random sum slipped out of our bank account and went nowhere.

I rerun the code I wrote to recheck our systems, but the results are always the same—no trace of the money.

I’m beyond pissed.

The problem is not the amount of money, which is ridiculously minor for a billion-dollar company, but the fact that we can’t trace where it went is troublesome.

The fact that I can’t find it is even more concerning. I created an empire in cybersecurity, for Pete’s sake! There is no way someone stole from me, and I didn’t notice.

I stand up from my desk and walk to the floor-to-ceiling window facing downtown. There is something relaxing about watching the cars slowly moving around in the traffic without hearing the noise. I love this city, but the chaos is sometimes too overwhelming, even for someone like me who grew up in the chaos.

I turn back toward the desk and stare at the computer. Maybe it’s time to admit defeat and ask for help from one of my employees. The idea of being unable to crack this problem is enough to lose sleep over. I’m the best in this field, and I have shown it time and time again. This is just bullshit.

“You look like you ate a sour lemon,” the booming voice from the door diverts my attention from my computer.

Jack’s imposing figure takes up the entire doorframe. He’s the security guard I hired a lifetime ago.

“A lemon would probably be better than this headache.” I smile at him.

He chuckles and I gesture for him to sit on the chair across from me. He hesitates for a second, then takes three long strides and sits down. We’ve had this conversation a million times before. He always points out that he shouldn’t sit down and chit-chat during his shift, and I counter that I’m his boss and asked him to do it.

It took a long time to make him understand that it’s fine for him to sit here with me for ten minutes.

“How’s it going?” I ask, and watch his face light up with a smile that takes up his whole face.

“My little one is going to college this year.” He beams like the proud father he is.

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