Page 9 of Money Reigns
I just tell myself to keep walking. If he knew, I’d see it—the flicker, the question. But there’s only professional ease in his voice.
Wesley stops just in front of a sleek, minimal desk nestled near a frosted glass office door.
“This is where you’ll be,” he says, gesturing to the workspace. “You’ve already been set up with a company email and calendar access. Leslie will walk you through the rest.”
“Wait, I-I have the job?” I ask confused as I follow him.
Wesley smiles, “You have an excellent resume and glowing references, yes Ms. Baker you have the job.”
For the first time since stepping inside, I relax. Maybe he really doesn’t remember.
He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes flick, quickly, to the glass wall behind me. A barely perceptible shift in his expression. Like he’s trying not to look at something.
Orsomeone.
Before I can follow his gaze, he clears his throat and pulls out his phone.
“I need to step into something,” he adds smoothly, already tapping at the screen. “But I have Leslie coming, she’s one of our lead systems engineers. She’ll help you get settled.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. Just disappears, casual but brisk.
A woman approaches a beat later, slim build, a clean ponytail, and an expression that reads efficient but kind.
“Hi,” she says, offering a hand. “I’m Leslie Rankin. Ready to get set up?”
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, sliding into the desk chair.
Leslie grabs a another chair from an empty cubicle and sits beside me, unlocking the computer and pulling up a series of onboarding systems.
“I’ll walk you through the basics; email, calendar, project dashboards, security protocols. Nothing too painful.”
I nod. I already know all of the basics.
Things I could handle without Leslie.
Her tone is gentle, her pace slow.
But my focus is elsewhere and the longer I sit there, the harder it becomes to concentrate.
Because I feel it again.
That gaze.
I don’t need to turn around to know where it’s coming from.
It’s not casual or fleeting.
It’s deliberate.
Like a spotlight pressed between my shoulder blades.
I click into a training tab Leslie just opened, pretending I’m absorbed in the text. But my breath catches slightly when I hear the low murmur of voices behind the glass.
Wesley and his brother.
They aren’t loud, but the cadence is tight. Clipped. Tense.
I feel like a cracked window between two storm systems, exposed and rattling without fully understanding why.
