Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Chapter 5

Nicole

Leaning into the office chair I got at the secondhand store, I stretch my arms above my head then lean forward to work my back. I need to undo some of the knots I’ve created while hunched over my makeshift desk for so long.

I’ve been going through invoices for hours, scrutinizing every line item, from the moment I got access. Sadly, all I’ve got to show for it is a cramp in my neck and a growing sense of frustration.

Some of these larger costs, for pipe, casing, and delivery, are a ridiculous amount. I’ve checked them against costs from previous years, but from what I’ve found, they’re not out of the ordinary. I don’t see how it’s cheaper to have all this material come in from another state. The mileage itself is astonishing, let alone wait time for unloading.

Then there’s the personnel salaries, which are staggering on their own. With a lot of them, living expenses are thrown in to boot. I can’t imagine making that kind of money and not having to pay for an apartment, or for their meals. Then again, they’re out in the middle of nowhere, risking their lives every minute they’re on site.

What’s worse is that even after all that work, they’ve had to shut in some wells. That’s got to be heartbreaking, after such a huge investment in time and money.

Numbers and details are blurring together after staring at the screen for so long. I rub my tired eyes, stifling a yawn, hoping to eke out another couple of hours. My stomach rumbles and I reach for the bag of chips sitting next to my ancient laptop. It’s empty. I blow out a breath and check the time on the corner of the task bar. That sandwich and chips I had was six hours ago.

Leaning forward, I adjust in my chair. I’m not going to get food. If I have a full stomach, I’ll likely end up wanting to go to bed. Instead, I click the mouse, getting back to reviewing the seemingly endless stream of invoices. I jot down the vendor name and cost according to what’s on the header of the next invoice.

These guys have made some questionable choices on some coding, and the admin hasn’t corrected them. The frustrating part is that the breakdown contains code numbers from the old list and the new list, with a consolidated structure. It was bound to happen since the company pulled people from all over the country to get South Texas staffed and running.

If the engineers have approved the expenses, maybe I’m way off base. Either way, I’m no closer to discovering any significant information. It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack, except this haystack is an endless stream of codes and costs.

Another yawn creeps up on me. Why did I stay up so late last night? I shake my head, glancing at the icon for the reading app on my laptop. Story of my life. I got caught up in a new romance novel I picked up and lost track of time. If I’d known I’d have the opportunity to pull an all-nighter doing research, I wouldn’t have even started reading.

I scoff. Of course I would have started; I wouldn’t have missed out on a new release from my favorite romance author. As it is, it took me two nights to devour the novel. Now I have over a month to wait for the next one.

The only personal life I enjoy is through the characters in those novels. Otherwise, I’d be all alone. My mind wanders back to the story where the powerful hero rescued his lover, breaking her out of the miserable situation in which she was caught. I give a deep sigh. Dreams, at least they can come true in books.

My lids are heavy, and it feels so comfortable every time I close my eyes. A cat nap is sounding better and better. Enough to let me clear my head so I can think straight and keep going instead of feeling like I’m stumbling around in the dark.

With a determined exhale, I reach for my phone. Holding it with both hands, I navigate to the timer function and scroll through to stop at ten minutes. An insidious thought creeps in, reminding me I’ve been going since five o’clock this morning.

The fifteen-minute mark is just a few ticks down. I eye the distance with longing. What difference would five minutes make? No. I shake my head, reiterating my decision. Ten minutes. That’s all I’ll allow myself.

I press the start button, watching the digital countdown begin. What if I give in and take a longer nap, or worse, I turn off the alarm. I set the phone down on the desk, so I’m forced to get up.

Pushing back my chair, I get up, stretch, and walk toward the bed as the seconds tick away. Ten minutes will go by like the blink of the eye. I chew on my bottom lip. I won’t have a second chance at alone time like this to do research.

The sensation of blood rushing down my legs reminds me how long I’ve been sitting without a break. It’s enough to stop me in my tracks. I turn, stepping back to where I set down my phone, leaning over to fumble with the keypad. When the screen opens, the timer taunts me every time the number changes.

Shoving aside the sliver of guilt, I give myself the extra five minutes I desperately need. The numbers reset as I adjust the timer to the fifteen-minute mark, not a second more, then press the start button again.

I set the phone beside the keyboard then pivot, facing the bed. It looks so inviting, but I’m not going to get under the covers. I can’t. I’d risk staying there longer than I should, or God forbid, falling asleep for the night. I can’t do that. I can’t miss out on this opportunity.

Decision made, I step toward the foot of the bed. Climbing on, I stretch out my arms to crawl forward, then lower myself onto the bedspread. The nice, comfortable bedspread.

Don’t fall asleep.

The day’s tasks pull at my conscious. With the mattress cradling me, I naturally shift to my normal sleeping position, knee bent, one arm under my cheek. Finally, I close my eyes, letting the darkness surround me for a few minutes of peaceful rest.

It’ll be enough. It has to be.

* * *

Derrick

“What the hell are you up to, Nicole?” I set aside the controller for my gaming console to figure out what she’s doing. She has her phone in hand. A mixture of feelings curl in my stomach. Who is she texting? It’s fucking midnight. I switch to the computer, checking the clone app.

Her screen shows a list of alarms. She sets a ten-minute timer for herself. I glance back at the camera feed, catching her just before she gets up from her desk. With her eyes looking so tired, she’s got to be needing a break. All things considered, she deserves one after putting in a full day. After her eight hours at the office, she went home and kept going.

That reminds me of my comment from earlier. I asked if she didn’t have anything outside of work. Turns out, I wasn’t too far off. The only thing I found while going through her computer is a slew of dirty books. That and the username of Little Nikki , which she uses for sites she has saved on her favorites bar. Both seem at odds with the side of her I’m familiar with, her business persona.

I should shut her down. There’s nothing in the computer that’s going to give me answers. I’m not up to spending the rest of the night watching her. I reach for the mouse.

She turns back, leaning over the armrest on her chair to check her phone, stopping me in my tracks. While she’s one to dress modestly for the office, in the privacy of her home, she’s more uninhibited. The shirt she’s wearing has a deep V, giving me a nice view of her impressive cleavage from this angle.

She’s back to the alarm, resetting it for fifteen minutes instead of ten. With the time reset, she gives a sharp nod, then turns away. You’d think it was some decisive move, those extra five minutes. Strange.

The bedroom at her place is small so it only takes a few steps to reach the bed. She’s far enough away that I can see the bottom of the black sleep shorts she’s wearing. They’re loose, draping to the edge of her ass and leaving her legs bare.

I can’t remember ever seeing her in something other than a dress. But at this moment, there’s a hell of a lot to appreciate. Even wearing thin, loose, pajama bottoms, she offers an enticing view. Then she sets a knee on the mattress and climbs onto the bed, bending at the waist.

“Oh hell.” My hand is frozen on the mouse as I was about to cut her link into the system.

The shorts ride up past the curve of her ass, drawing my attention there. Her knee moves forward, shifting her hips. Then the other knee moves, and her perfectly shaped ass swings in the opposite direction. I suck in a breath as my cock stirs. She’s such a perfect sight that I want to reach out and run my thumb along the curve just to see if it’s as firm as it looks.

Nicole lowers herself to the bed, like a graceful kitten, even though she’s exhausted. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Now I get the fascination with cam girls, how something like Only Fans can rake in as much money as it does.

I force myself to exhale slowly, hands clenching with the effort to remain impassive. I hadn’t anticipated this development. And yet I should know by now, Little Nikki has a few surprises.

On the heels of that thought, she shifts, bringing a knee up. The new position offers a view of elastic along the edge of her pussy. My cock responds in an instant.

“Holy fuck.” Little Miss Innocent is wearing tiny white panties that barely cover the important bits. Seeing how she dresses for work every day, I never would have imagined this.

Hell, at this point, I’m sorry I didn’t record the whole damn thing. Not about to miss out on the opportunity, I grab a screen print and save it on my laptop. Then I grab a second one, in case something goes wrong, and it doesn’t save properly.

Picking up the glass of scotch, I tip it in appreciation. If she ever decides to weaponize that body, some poor, unsuspecting asshole’s going to be in for it. My stomach clenches at the thought. I put the glass down. “That’s the last fucking thing I need.”

Still, I wait out the timer, committing the view to memory. It takes ironclad restraint to keep from heading across town to get more of a hands-on experience. Instead, I sit in my dimly lit apartment, dragging my thoughts away from running my fingers along the curve under her ass, to consider next steps.

Obviously, she lied about needing to work on invoices for some deadline. She’s been in the app, and, while I don’t know the entire process, I know she hasn’t processed payments like she said she would. This isn’t what she was doing during the day.

I’m curious, but after burning hours watching Nicole, her focus unwavering as she stares at one invoice after another, I’ve had enough. This just left me with more questions.

Why is she reviewing invoices?

Why is she taking such meticulous notes?

And how has she been able to keep that body hidden for so long?

Should I cancel the alarm and let her sleep? No. I discard the idea almost immediately. That would definitely tip my hand. If she’d put the phone next to her, I’d have a better chance of going undetected. She might think she turned off the alarm and fell back to sleep. It’s not like she’d be the first one to do that. I sink back into the couch, waiting out the timer.

The alarm goes off at the end of her fifteen minutes. She jolts awake. I sit forward, pick up my glass, and throw back the last of my drink. Nicole pushes herself off the bed. The angle pulls the tiny shorts against her pussy in a narrow line. Each crease where her leg meets her hips is clearly outlined for a fraction of a second.

It’s risky hacking into her laptop’s camera and invading her privacy, but I don’t hesitate in hitting the key to record. Even with the alarm blaring in the background, this will be a perfect way to remember this moment.

As she returns to her desk, a light frown on her face, I can’t shake the feeling there may be more I’m missing. What I got to see about Nicole Fuentes is nothing near what I was looking for. So I already figured out there’s more to her than what meets the eye. I just can’t help but wonder if there are more layers.

With that in mind, I prepare to engage.

* * *

Nicole

A few seconds have ticked away, letting me drift to the edge of consciousness. Then the alarm blares, jolting me back to awareness. I push myself up from the bed, stifling a yawn. I’m mostly on autopilot after such a short break.

The alarm’s persistent trill grates on my nerves. I rush back to my desk, pressing the stop button before I wake the neighbor’s baby. The walls are paper thin. At this hour, any noise would sound like it’s inside their own apartment. The sounds are clear enough that I likely got to hear when they made that child.

I turn to my laptop and squint at the message in the middle of the screen.

System reset starting in 2 minutes. Save your work and log out.

Now I’m fully awake. “Damn it!” My heart sinks. That’s the last thing I wanted to happen. I glance to the lower right-hand corner. It’s past midnight. I click on the menu then click on the link to export the data, so I know what I covered the last few hours.

Seconds later, the spreadsheet comes up, but it’s only the outline. The sheet flickers.

“No, no, no!” Then the message every analyst dreads appears beside the title: Not Responding. My temper flares. “Derrick, you…” I can’t even think of a properly vile word for the IT Director. “Argh! Screw you and the megabyte you rode in on.” I just lost everything I managed to review on that AFE—the biggest one they have in South Texas so far. Couldn’t he have given me more notice before shutting me down?

The messenger app pops up with a message from Derrick.

I was hoping to catch you before the system kicked you out.

So he wasn’t the one who caused the screen to freeze. Too late, I type, letting him know that at this point I’m screwed.

Trouble on the West Coast. The system locked up on them so I’m going to have to reset the server and do some troubleshooting on the back end.

Oh. Now I feel guilty for cursing at him, even if he’ll never know.

Did you get to clear out the invoices you needed?

I set my teeth at the corner of my bottom lip. I got a lot done. I type out the half-truth and hit enter. Wait, can he see what I had open? Panic kicks in. I was in the middle of reviewing overall cost on an AFE, I add quickly, just in case, but the download got stuck.

You may end up losing that.

The realization sinks in, making my shoulders slump in defeat.

That’s the issue they’re dealing with.

It’s kind of sad to think that there’s someone else up and working at this hour. Though on the West Coast, they’re two hours behind and they probably didn’t start their shift at 7:00 am. Well, at least it was one AFE I lost and not everything.

It’s fate, Nicole. You’re supposed to go to bed.

His words strike a chord, making me chuckle to myself. Who would have thought I’d be talking to Derrick Stockton about going to bed? The unexpected image of bringing him down on the bed with me fills my mind. Yeah, like that would happen. I sigh, shaking off the absurd thought.

I suppose you’re right, I reply, with a mixture of resignation and amusement. What about you? How long are you going to be stuck fixing this? If I’m lucky, just a quick reset. I might still be able to put in some time and make the most of the unexpected opportunity. It’s not often I can work without having anybody question the hours I’m keeping.

It’ll be at least a few hours.

Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. So, I won’t be able to log on? I ask, hoping against hope, because another opportunity like this one isn’t going to come around any time soon, if ever.

You’ll have to make do with the extra hours you already got.

I give a heavy sigh and reluctantly start typing out my reply. Okay. I’ll go ahead and call it a night. Thanks!

He closes the chat window right away. The spreadsheet with all the information I need is still on the screen, mocking me with a gray frame. I can’t bring myself to hit the X on the upper corner. It would mean I’ve given up on the possibility of salvaging the progress I’ve made on this review. It’s the best base model of the expenses they have. The example I can use to run against the rest of the AFEs for the area.

I’ll leave the window open in case the software comes back online and lets me save. If there’s a chance I won’t lose everything, I’m willing to wait it out. I’ve had some fitful sleep the last couple of weeks. I’ll just check when I wake up again.

With the decision made, I stand up and stretch, listening for the creaks and groans my tired body makes. I need to be more cognizant of the time. I’ve needed to get up for the past hour, but I kept putting it off.

With a determined breath, I make my way to the bed, pulling back the covers, then I pick up the laptop and carry it over to set it in the middle of the bedspread. I chuckle softly to myself again as a fleeting moment of my daydreams sneak into real life.

This is as close as I’ll get to climbing in bed with Derrick Stockton.