Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Chapter 3

Nicole

Derrick’s command to “go” is barely out of his mouth before I’m moving. There’s no mistaking the fact it wasn’t a request. I didn’t have to see his face to confirm he’s mad again, though I don’t know why. At this point, I’m just glad his anger isn’t directed at me.

With my task essentially done, I rush back to the elevators, eager to get clear of whatever’s going on there. The echo of my heels reverberates with each click against the polished floor as I try to outrun the wave of tension chasing after me.

I reach for the call button, a knot of anxiety tightening in my stomach. I bite down on my lip for all I’m worth. Thankfully, the doors to the third elevator slide open immediately. I practically dive in, thrilled to escape the turmoil happening just past the glass doors.

I press the button to get to my floor. This time, the familiar hum doesn’t send that shot of unease through me the way it did earlier. Then again, I’m not riding with Derrick. All six-foot-something man, with a carefully controlled restlessness that always seems to hover beneath the surface, hinting at so much more.

I’ll be waiting.

His voice echoes in my head as I exit the elevator. It’s that voice of his, some kind of deep, sexy, gravelly tone, that sends a wave of awareness through me. Maybe it’s just me, but the words seemed to hold a hint of promise just now. Argh, stop it. I’m being ridiculous. It’s the unknown that has Derrick Stockton taking over my thoughts. It has to be.

I scan the card reader at the entrance of the accounting department, letting myself in. A couple of people glance my way from their cubicles to see who’s coming through before going back to whatever they were doing.

Over the last few months, the dirty looks have become less and less. While the senior Mr. Kelly thought he’d reward me for my work by assigning me to an office, he probably didn’t think about how it would affect the people who have been with the company longer.

“Young lady, with the hours you keep, you’ve earned an office. And nobody here can tell me otherwise,” he’d insisted.

He’s a nice man. That’s the reason I’m trying so hard to find out what’s happening in his business, even when nobody will listen. I know he ended up in the hospital, but he’s recovering well. From what I hear, he’ll be back soon. By then, I should have found out something, Hopefully I can put together a file on everything that looks suspicious. He can look it over and have a professional look into the matter. It’s the least I can do for him.

That reminder fuels a sense of urgency, quickening my pace across the floor. I reach my office, letting myself in then closing the door behind me. Should I lock it? I need privacy for a few minutes while I contact Derrick.

How long can I keep the door locked without someone coming by? They’ll immediately wonder why, and it’ll likely come back to haunt me. I blow out a breath and rush to my desk as if it’s the big X on a treasure map.

Today’s streak of luck is almost unbelievable. I’ll have hours to myself to dig until my heart’s content.

I take a seat and pull my cell from my bag before dropping it in the drawer. My hand has a slight quiver as I grasp the mouse. The movement makes my screen light up as the computer comes out of sleep mode. I type in my password, my fingers trembling with every keystroke.

I’m doing this.

The messenger app is still open from when I was logged on earlier. Navigating to the search field, I drop my cursor and type in Derrick’s name. His picture, him in a dark suit against a green background, appears at the top.

I click on his profile information and get his title, email, office location, and cell number. Plugging it into my phone, I create a contact for him then compose a message, typing in my personal email address, as instructed. Not willing to take the chance he’d forget who I am, I add my name at the bottom for good measure.

Hesitating, I reread my message, making sure each letter in the address is entered correctly, then blow out a breath. All I need is to end up misspelling something and losing hours of data mining and investigation. With a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty, I hit send and watch the message pop up in a green bubble.

A minute goes by as I wait for some sort of response. Maybe I read too much into it when he said he’d be waiting. I tap my finger on my desk as time crawls to a stop.

I can’t make too much of it. The worst part about working downtown is having such bad cell reception in the area. Even the map messes up, like what happened to me on the first day I was sent here. It was sheer luck the person at the elevator bank was coming to the office. It wasn’t until later that I learned the gentleman I asked for help was Mr. Keith Kelly himself.

Voices filter in from the hallway. My gaze goes to my door. Keep walking … I bite my lip, hoping they’re not on their way to see me. No matter what, I don’t want to keep Derrick waiting.

Moments later, the confirmation comes back as read. Three dots bounce in a line then his reply pops in.

Got it. I’ll send you a link once I’m done. Should be around 6:00.

I close the messenger, hiding the communication, in case I get an unexpected visitor in the middle of getting set up.

A weight seems to lift from my shoulders, leaving me sagging back against my chair. I’m practically boneless after passing that hurdle. Now all I have to do is get to my laptop.

For the first time in weeks, I’m actually anxious for the day to end. Maybe I’ll leave a little earlier than usual so I can avoid rush hour traffic on the drive home.

My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten. I decide to grab the sandwich I packed for lunch before diving into my afternoon tasks.

Leaving my desk, I head to the small kitchenette area to retrieve my meal from the fridge. As I’m grabbing a napkin, I sense someone approaching behind me. I turn to find Simon Kelly strolling up, that slick smile on his face.

My stomach drops.

“Settling into the new office alright?” he asks, reaching for a disposable cup. He reaches for a carafe then pours himself a heafty serving.

I nod, clutching my lunch bag tightly. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kelly.” Technically it’s the senior Mr. Kelly who assigned me an office, but I’m not splitting hairs right now.

He glances around the break room area before focusing his sharp gaze on me again. “Call me Simon.” Something about his tone makes me uneasy.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble, distracted. Why would he be getting coffee here? The fact he hates what we have available in the break room is the entire reason he sends me across town for his coffee every day. Did they mess up his order? Is that why he came to find me?

“Quite curious my father granted you an office.” He’s not the first to bring that up. “Temps don’t usually warrant that luxury. They’re normally assigned to those employees who are far more…tenured.”

I shift from one foot to another, wishing I could just bolt from the room. “I’m grateful for his generosity,” I reply, grasping at straws.

Simon steps closer. “And how exactly do you know my father?”

My mind races. What does he want from me? “I don’t really know him personally.”

He nods slowly. “I see,” he says, peeling back the cover on the individually packaged flavored creamer then emptying it into his coffee. “Because my father has shown poor judgement where certain employees are concerned.” He pauses meaningfully, selecting a stirrer and dropping it into the cup. “Especially young, impressionable female employees.”

My eyes widen. He can’t possibly think...

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mr. Kelly,” I say quietly, slightly uncomfortable with the insinuation.

Simon tilts his head. “Of course, I wouldn’t suggest anything inappropriate between you two…or anyone else in the company.”

The image of Derrick’s face fills my mind.

I’ll be waiting.

I shake my head, pushing his voice out of my head. “Not at all. I hardly know anyone outside of the billing department. I just come and do my work.”

“Of course.” He takes a drink from the cup then makes a face. “I know you’re busy.” He steps over to the sink and empties the contents. “That’s why I want you to stay on task.”

Exactly what he said to me when I told him I found an error that was concerning. Stay on task. Only he was significantly colder while giving me instructions to get back to work. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll let you get back to it, then.” He tosses the empty container into the trash, having wasted every single thing he used.

“Thank you.” Some of the tension leaves my shoulders.

“And, Nicole.” His gaze roots me in place. “ Next time , you deliver my coffee to me personally.” With that, he walks away.

What the heck did I miss?

* * *

Derrick

The first thing I do after I step into my office is toss the coffee into the wastebasket. The nearly full disposable cup lands in the plastic liner, making it crinkle before hitting the bottom with the muted thud. How anyone can stomach that overly sweet crap is beyond me.

My phone buzzes as a message pops up on the screen. Nicole. I scoff as I settle into my leather chair. She even adds her name at the bottom. I’ll be sure to add her to my address book.

My thumb hovers over the message. No. I can’t appear to be too eager. I drum my fingers on the desk, counting out the seconds so she doesn’t think I’m sitting in my office, waiting for her text to come in.

My mind wanders to Nicole and Jenae. What’s going on there? They seem chummy, at least as much as anyone can be with Simon’s assistant. Not that it would be impossible, especially if she’s in the habit of helping my stepbrother.

Still, it’s an odd situation. He’s having someone from the accounting department pulled away from their duties to fetch coffee when he has an assistant. What could be the motive behind it? I make a mental note to dig deeper into their relationship to see if there’s a stronger connection between them.

When enough time has gone by, I click on her message then type up a reply.

Got it. I’ll send you a link once I’m done. Should be around 6:00.

I’ve set a trap, which requires the right timing and some luck. I hit send and prepare to access Nicole’s computer while she’s distracted with my message. My pulse quickens in anticipation. Hopefully she’s still as eager to get to work as she was earlier, otherwise she might notice that slight twitch in the screen that indicates a connection.

One, two, three, four...I’m in. Her background springs to life before me. The first thing I do is turn on her camera. I take a moment to watch her intently, observing the flicker of delight that dances across her face. It’s suspicious how genuinely happy she seems to have the opportunity to work after hours. Oh hell. Did I set myself up to watch her for longer than I initially anticipated?

She gets out of her chair, disappearing from sight, granting me a few seconds to check her computer screen. So far, it’s just her messenger, open to my profile. Everything else is shut down, likely because she stepped away. She’s following the rules regarding data security. Is that because she’s a good employee or because she doesn’t want to come under scrutiny?

My phone rings, interrupting my thoughts. As I half expected, Mom’s image fills the screen. While I’d love to ignore it, she’s probably going to keep trying until she gets ahold of me. Worse yet, she might come up to find me. Fuck.

I press the button to answer. “Yes.”

She sighs. “There’s nothing tangible to share right now,” she says, as if she’s being careful with her words. Likely someone is near by.

“So what can you tell me?” I ask, undeterred.

“I suspect this is happening in South Texas,” she confirms.

“What makes you think so?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “First, Keith was distressed to know the sale concluded. I’m not sure if that’s because of your involvement, but he was very upset.”

Of course she would take the opportunity to fit that in. “And?”

“That’s where the bulk of expense is taking place right now. They had several drilling rigs in the area for new wells and there’s workover rigs on the other lease they took over. Keith was determined to ramp up production on the new acquisition.”

That’s probably what gave him the heart attack. All the effort he put into building up the area only to find out someone was stealing it out from under him. “Okay, thanks.” I end the call, not waiting for more.

Meanwhile, Nicole’s gotten back to her duties. I move both windows, with the desktop and camera to one of my screens, tiling them next to each other. She pushes invoice after invoice through the approval process. I try to follow along, but I can’t make heads or tails of the code she’s reviewing.

I log into the system, taking note of how she’s going from screen to screen. I’ll be damned if I can figure out what she’s doing. Even when I look up two invoices with the same code, the work has nothing to do with the description for the code. After three failed attempts, I give up.

Throughout the day, I continue to watch Nicole, her gaze moving back and forth across the screen. Her brow is furrowed in concentration as she’s working through a particularly long invoice.

Every now and then, her gaze darts to the lower right. It took me a few times to figure out she’s checking the time. It’s during one of those time checks, her eyes come back to the camera.

My fingers hover over the keyboard, as if she caught me watching her. Logically, I know she can’t see me; she doesn’t even know I’m here. Yet, I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from her delicate features. She has beautiful skin, a light blush running across her cheeks.

Sometimes she has an innocent, inquisitive look in her eyes. For a moment, I let myself imagine those pretty brown eyes directed at me. Her teeth digging into that full bottom lip. The thought sends an unexpected wave of desire crashing through me.

Oh hell, she’s too sweet and innocent for her own good. I need to get this…her, out of my mind. This is not the time for those kinds of distractions.

Nicole closes out the window where she’s working. She pushes her chair back and retrieves her purse from the drawer. Finally, she hits the button to shut down the system, effectively ending my entertainment for the day.

I check the lower corner of my screen. To my surprise, it’s four o’clock. For those people who come in to work at seven, it’s the end of the day.

If it was anyone else, it wouldn’t be a big deal, but Nicole isn’t a typical eight-hour-a-day employee. This is nowhere near the time she usually leaves. In fact, I don’t think she’s ever left this early. Is she that eager to get home? Why is she so intent on getting to her computer? What the hell am I going to find once I dig into her life? And what else can I do to track what she’s doing?