Crude Heir (Billionaire Heirs #3)

Chapter 9

Nicole

Warning: Emergency Shut Down. The system will shut down in one minute. Save your work and log out to avoid data loss.

“Ugh, come on!” I groan in frustration, raking my hands through my hair. “I can’t catch a break.” Of course, this would happen now, just when I need a few more minutes to finish.

Granted, it’s well after normal business hours. If nobody was working late, it would be the perfect time for the IT department to do maintenance—but I’m here. And as far as they’re concerned, I’m on a deadline. And I was actually processing invoices up until half an hour ago.

Directly behind the ominous warning message, in an unobtrusive little box, is the progress bar, taking its sweet time to crawl forward.

I quietly curse the ancient system that’s dragging this out. I had to wait until everyone else left for the night to avoid questions about what I’m doing. The fewer possible witnesses, the better.

Saving document to Firefly. 97% complete.

Thunder rumbles outside, rattling my frayed nerves.

If I don’t get out of here soon, I might end up trapped here overnight by the storm. I’ve heard stories about people being stranded at the office by bad weather before. The thought makes my stomach knot with anxiety.

98% complete.

I managed to stop biting my fingernails ages ago. But if anything could drive me back to the habit, this agonizing wait would be the trigger. I settle for drumming my fingers on the mouse pad instead, the pace ramping up to match my heart rate.

98% complete.

It would stand to reason that a huge Excel file with over a million rows of raw data wouldn’t happen in an instant. But with freedom so close, these final minutes feel like a fiery eternity. After losing my research last night, I’m determined to keep a list I can check off instead of writing everything down. I need to do a deep dive, per line item, to see if I can find any irregularities. Come on, come on, come on. I start bouncing my leg, letting the sturdy heel tap against the floor, willing the machine to go faster, but the number hasn’t moved.

98% complete.

Before his heart attack, Keith Kelly, the CEO of Kelly Oil & Gas, had been spending way too much time in the office. He’d noticed me then began to swing by and check on me during the business day. He went so far as to get me an office, which hasn’t been well received by some of my co-workers. But, in his words, hardworking employees deserve recognition.

Right now, I don’t need recognition. Tonight, I need privacy. I glance at the door again. I need to take the report home with me. Somewhere I can arrange the data and dissect the secrets it contains before anyone else does.

99% complete.

Anticipation nearly pulls me from my seat. One percent to go, yet it drags on endlessly. How long can a single percentage point take? Seconds? It feels like I’ve been stuck in some sort of time loop since I made the decision to start copying over the files. It’s as if fate, or something like it, is working against me. Honestly, the software they’ve been using is practically a dinosaur. It’s the main reason the download is taking forever.

Come on, come on! I’m on the edge of my seat, ready to bolt as soon as it finishes. Just a little more...

Thunder rumbles in the background. Immediately after, lightning cracks so hard it sounds like it split the building in half. Either my imagination is running away with me or the floor shook.

This was a mistake. I never should have stayed so late alone. What was I thinking?

The lights overhead flicker, short rapid blinks that make the fluorescent lights sputter, then cut out completely. My office is plunged into darkness. The monitor winks out, the low hum of the tower below the desk goes silent, just as the air coming through the vents stops.

“Nooooo!” I slam my palms against the desk as the computer switches off at the worst possible moment. It takes all of two seconds for my subconscious to register I’m sitting in silence, surrounded in complete and utter darkness. The only light spot is the rectangular image left burned into my mind’s eye from staring at the monitor so hard.

My breath rasps in my throat as anxiety constricts my chest. I’ve had a deep-seated fear of the dark since childhood, a terror of being closed in and confined. My office sits in the middle of the building, so there’s no windows. I had the door shut for privacy, so the room didn’t just go dark, it went pitch-black.

I freeze, my pulse hammering as panic grips me. I can barely breathe. Memories from a long-remembered nightmare surge to the forefront of my mind. I’m that little girl again, back in that narrow room, sitting in the darkness, aware that someone or something is moving restlessly behind me. There’s thunder all around me, people yelling as I press my hands to my ears.

The walls feel like they’re closing in on me. Any second now, they’ll slam into each other, crushing the desk like it’s sitting in the middle of a trash compactor.

“Nicole?” A man’s voice reaches me from somewhere beyond my office.

“Uh…huh.” My own voice is high and tight, but it’s all I can muster. I drag in a breath, struggling to get the cool air past the band constricting my throat.

I glance at the far wall. The door to my office is open. A shadow stands outlined in a lesser black than the entrance. Derrick. It has to be him. I force my mind to cling to that reasoning, seeking solace in his presence.

The large shadow moves away from the door, coming toward me. “We’re okay.” Derrick’s voice, calm and sure, cuts through the darkness. “The power went out with the storm.” Thunder rumbles again to emphasize his words. Another brutal crack of lightning shakes the high-rise.

“Ahhh!”

“Shh, easy now. Everything is fine,” he reassures me, his voice steady and calming. “The emergency lights should kick in soon.”

Did I make a noise? I’m not even sure now, or what it was.

Gentle fingertips clasp my forearm then follow the length to wrap around my stiff fingers. He turns my hand over and pulls at my fingers, making me release my death grip on the mouse. Something I hadn’t been aware of.

I’m moving. Is it the building? The chair? Pain explodes in my head as my knee smacks into the corner of my desk. It’s enough to break the hold of incapacitating fear.

I push my chair back, but it won’t budge. “What’s happening,” I exclaim, my voice quivering. “I can’t move.”

“Let’s see what I can do.” He tugs on my chair, but it doesn’t move. “Here.” He leans down. His arm brushes against my breast in the dark. There’s a loud crack as he wrenches the two sections of the desk apart, then the scrape of wood on carpet signals I’m free. I lurch upright on unsteady legs, swaying into him for support I don’t want to need but desperately do.

“I-I’m fine, really.” I slide my hand around and he tightens his grasp. “I just have to…I-I…”

“Come on. We’ll get you out to the hallway.” Derrick pulls me closer, his warmth seeping through me as he leads me around the corner of the desk. Even though I know I only have to walk a few paces forward, in a straight line, to get to the door, I need his guidance.

I nearly stumble over my own feet. Derrick’s solid grip keeps me upright. “Careful now, we’re almost there. Small steps.”

My heart slams against my chest as I take one heavy step after another. My conscience weighs on me, an anchor I’m dragging along. My Firefly flash drive is plugged into my computer tower. If the lights turn on, he’ll see it.

What I’m doing is strictly prohibited. All company information should stay on-site unless you’re one of the field leads, a company employee, and that’s only because they’re not working from the Houston office. If I get caught, I’ll be fired on the spot. It won’t matter that I’m doing this for Mr. Kelly.