Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Chapter 8

Nicole

“Is it true?”

I look up from my computer to find Wanda, my gossip-loving coworker from accounts payable, leaning against the doorway of my office. She has an oddly knowing grin on her face that spells nothing but trouble.

I’ve always found her knack for office gossip somewhere between impressive and annoying. Right now, it’s tilting decidedly toward annoying.

I blink, momentarily confused. “Is what true?” A prickle of unease slides down my back. Somehow I know she’s about to drop a bombshell, and I have a target painted squarely on my butt.

She crosses her arms, one eyebrow raised. “You and the office hottie are a thing now?”

I balk, my brain stuttering to a halt. “Excuse me?”

Oh god. How far has this nonsense gone? Wanda’s the biggest busybody in the building. It’s possible someone came to her fishing for gossip, since she’s shameless about point-blank interrogating people for juicy details. Just like she’s doing to me now.

She narrows her eyes. “Word is, you and...” She leans back, glancing left and right down the hallway to make sure nobody’s in the area before continuing in a conspiratorial whisper. “Derrick are pret-ty tight these days.” She punctuates this with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “You’ve got it completely wrong,” I insist, even as my pulse kicks up a notch.

Wanda saunters in and plants herself in the chair across from my desk, as if she owns the place. She drops her huge purse in her lap with a thump. “Oh, come on, you can tell me! I can keep a secret.”

Yeah right, this woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut with industrial-grade adhesive.

I shake my head adamantly. “No, really. I don’t know what crazy stuff you heard, but—”

She steamrolls over me. “That you and Mr. Hottie McHotcakes were looking preeeetty cozy in the elevator yesterday.” Her eyes twinkle with relish over this juicy tidbit.

I have to resist the urge to bang my head on my desk. “It wasn’t like that at all,” I say through gritted teeth. Honestly, this office is like a bunch of teenagers sometimes. “Derrick was just trying to help with a computer issue I was having. That’s literally it.”

Wanda cocks her head dubiously. “So the Director of IT himself is troubleshooting your computer issues.” She purses her lips. “Mhm. Suuuuure.”

I’m this close to snapping at her to mind her own damn business. But that would only fan the flames. “Yes, the Director happened to step into the elevator when I was riding up,” I explain, gathering every bit of patience. “Nothing more than that occurred, I assure you.”

“Shame, if that’s all you were riding—” she says with a grimace.

“Wanda!” I gasp, mortified at the innuendo.

She holds up both hands in mock surrender, though her eyes twinkle with mirth. “Okay, okay! But you can’t blame me for being curious. I’ve got a sixth sense about these things. And trust me, I’ve seen the way Derrick looks at you. Plus, I heard he came to your rescue when Jenae was giving you a hard time yesterday.”

I swallow with difficulty, my blush worsening. Come to think of it, how exactly has Derrick been looking at me?

“You’re imagining things,” I say briskly. “He was just being polite because Jenae was…well, being Jenae. I don’t know what was going on there, but I took the opportunity to cut and run.” Which is precisely what happened.

Wanda heaves a theatrical sigh. “Ugh, I was hoping for some juicy details! Even a little office flirtation would’ve satisfied me. But no, you have to be Little Miss Boring over here, leaving me with nothing.”

She pushes herself out of the chair, clearly miffed at not getting the dirt she was fishing for.

I bite back a smile, perversely pleased to put a kink in her scheming. “Sorry to disappoint you, but there’s truly nothing going on that would interest you. It seems someone misunderstood and got the story all wrong. You know how people here love to take gossip and build it up,” I remind her, without listing her as one of the main people I’m referring to.

“If you say so.” She swings around, her eyes narrowed, searching my face for any hint of deception. Finding none, she huffs in annoyance. “Fine, be that way. I’m leaving to start my long weekend.”

“You do that,” I reply pleasantly. With any luck, she’ll come up with some other outrageous theory to occupy her over the break.

“Don’t stay too late,” she says over her shoulder as she leaves. “It’s really coming down out there.”

I frown. “So much for scattered showers.” The forecast had predicted only light rainfall today on the east side of the city, thanks to a storm system aimed at the Louisiana coast.

“That was yesterday’s forecast, honey,” Wanda says as she rummages through her bag. “Last night they said the winds picked up and pushed the storm more toward us. It’s supposed to hit later tonight.” She pulls out her car keys triumphantly. “At least that’s what the 10 o’clock news claimed.”

I was too preoccupied with the review last night to think about checking the weather. “Thanks for the heads up,” I tell her sincerely. This puts a wrench in my plans for the evening.

“Mm-hmm. You just let me know if Mr. Hottie ends up wanting to check out your software.” She waggles her fingers in farewell. “Or if you end up assessing his hardware.”

With a cheeky wink, she sashays out the door, leaving me biting my tongue.

As soon as the echo of her steps wanes, I collapse into my chair. That woman! She’s freaking impossible. I shake my head, amused despite myself. At least the office will be blissfully empty for the next few days. I’ll have to wait and see what Monday brings. Ugh, I don’t have time to worry about that now.

I sit up and turn my attention back to my computer screen, chewing my lip thoughtfully. I’ve been looking forward to staying late tonight while the office is deserted. With the three -day weekend coming up, it’s the perfect time to continue my review. I won’t get another opening like this anytime soon.

Decision made, I push back my chair and hurry to my door. I pause just outside, taking a deep breath, then peek over to the cubicles where everyone sits. As expected, the area is empty. I slip back into my office and gently pull the door almost closed, the latch catching but not clicking shut.

Safely cocooned in my office again, I settle at my desk and wake my snoozing computer. With determined clicks, I open the database and right click the mouse button over the Export All command.

My finger hovers over the mouse button. If I click this, I’ll be stuck here, likely for at least an hour while the data transfers. No big deal if the rain just started. But if the storm is imminent as Wanda claimed...

I hesitate, chewing my lip. Maybe I should get going. But the temptation to move forward is so strong. And I can always call a rideshare if it gets too dangerous. It’ll be worth the cost in the long run.

With my heart in my throat, I click the export button and sit back to wait, committed to riding this out. Adrenaline and nerves churn in my tummy as the sound of thunder filters into my office with an ominous boom.

* * *

Derrick

Thunder rumbles in the distance, echoing the tension that fills the air. I stare at the computer screen in front of me, frustration mounting with every message coming through. System issues have consumed my day, and now, as if to add insult to injury, the storm that was supposed to go around us is rolling into town.

It’s not the extra work or the follow-up; it’s the fact I haven’t been able to check on Nicole. Twenty-four hours and I’m fucking obsessed.

Ever since I was deprived of my entertainment, I’ve had restlessness surging inside me. Hell, it started last night, when the screen went dark. The battery on her laptop going dead.

The image of her turning back to the computer, my name on her lips, has been echoing in my mind.

A knock at my door calls my attention. I glance over to find Mike standing there. His eyes dart from his phone to me, a worried expression etched on his face.

My hostility level goes up even more. Why the fuck was he so quick on calling Nicole this morning?

“You think we should shut everything down?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. “The news is saying it’s looking like this may turn into the worst storm of the year.”

I head to the window and check outside. I’ve been so caught up in the weather hitting our Louisiana office that I wasn’t paying attention here. I turn the wand, opening the blinds. The sun was out when I went to grab lunch. Now the weather’s turned the sky dark, mocking my attempts to keep everything running smoothly.

I blow out a breath, considering his question. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” I finally reply, defeated. “If you’re planning to leave, now’s the time. I don’t want anyone stuck here when the storm hits.”

Mike nods, relief taking over his expression. “Thanks, Derrick. I’ll pack up and head out. Stay safe, man.”

“You, too, Mike,” I say, watching him gather his things. I don’t have to worry much about it since my drive is just a few blocks across the highway.

I focus my attention back to the task at hand. My mind races with the potential consequences of keeping the systems running. I can’t afford to lose everything in a power surge or worse. It’s a risk I can’t take.

I turn back to my desk. Luckily, I’d already started the backup process due to the issue in Louisiana. Now I just need to do the shutdown, and the Oklahoma office can take over as primary.

“Oh,” Mike says from the door. “Do I talk to Nicole?”

I give him a hard stare, wondering what the hell he’s playing at. “I got it.”

“Okay.” He nods, pulling back from the doorway. “Thanks.”

I check the monitor to see who’s still logged on. Mostly, it’s people working at remote sites since most offices shut down early. But, of course, Nicole is still diligently carrying out her daily tasks. Which means, we have only one person on-site besides me.

“Working late again, Miss Fuentes?” With my pulse speeding up, I open up my phone and click the link to Nicole’s camera feed.

Nicole is sitting at her desk, her attention on the screen in front of her. She’s biting the full, bottom lip. Damn, that woman is a thorn in my side. Why can’t she be at home, fully dressed, doing something other than distracting me or giving me grief.

I send a quick message out to all users, notifying them of the impending shutdown. As the notifications ping back, I can almost hear the collective groans from the field. Hey, a whole minute to wrap up what they’re typing and save their files is more than what they’d get if the power went out. They’ll thank me later, even if they don’t realize it now.

I pick up my desk phone, dialing Nicole’s office number only to have the line cut out before I can finish.