Due Diligence

Chapter 24 Marcus

I started working early on Tuesday, around six. I pretended I did it to get a head start on some HR documents for the data room, but really I showed up early because it had been forty-eight hours since the last time I saw Cass.

When Cass arrived at eight, she walked into the fishbowl with a coffee in each hand. Without a word, she placed one at her usual seat. Next, she came over to my side of the table and put the other in front of me.

“This is for me?”

“It’s in front of you, isn’t it?”

I was too grateful to make a snide remark in response. I pulled the plastic lid off the cup and the rich smell of coffee hit my nose, casting me with sweet relief. “You’re a lifesaver. How did you know I needed this?”

“I saw you moving files around at six in the morning,” she answered simply. Then she picked up my phone and said, “Unlock this.”

“My phone?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

So sharp .

Yep. I was going to do unimaginable things to that smart mouth the next time we were alone—that was for sure.

But naturally, I just couldn’t say no to her. I unlocked the phone and handed it back to Cass. She spent a few seconds on it before she passed it back to me and said, “Now you have my number.”

“You don’t like my emails?”

Cass took a seat in her chair. “We have to be professional on our work emails, which means we’re not quite saying what we want to say. And you know me; I’m not coy.”

I sent a text to her number. “There. Now you have mine too.”

Gingerly, Cass picked up her phone and swiped on the screen. After a moment, my phone lit up with a text from her.

I unlocked it to look at the message and I nearly spit out a mouthful of coffee. Cass had sent me a picture of herself in her underwear—and not just any underwear, but a see-through, basically non-functioning lingerie set that put her entire body on display. It was so transparent I could see the bars in her nipples in full outline through the cream-colored lace.

Fuck, this woman was going to wreck me.

I was too shellshocked to say anything, so I ended up just gaping at the photo while Cass watched me with a smile on her face.

“Goddamn,” I murmured. “Well, I would send you one back, but I don’t have any pictures of myself. It’s in my contract.”

“A likely story.”

“I mean that,” I confirmed before I looked back down at my phone and wondered what generous deeds I did in a past life to deserve this. “And to be honest, even if it weren’t in the contract…”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have an amazing body,” she cut in. “I could look at you all day.”

“Okay.”

“No, don’t do that ‘okay’ bullshit,” she countered, shaking her head at me. “I wouldn’t flatter you. You look incredible.”

Deep down, I knew I looked good, but that hadn’t always been the case. Even though I was tall, I was always one of the skinniest kids in the foster homes where I lived. I had been an easy target for a few of my foster brothers and sisters, and probably spent more days with bruises on my body than without them. I carried those insecurities with me for years, even to college when I met Cass. To hear her compliment my body…that held weight that she probably didn’t even realize.

I allowed myself to smile. “Thanks, Cass. I just…”

“What?”

That would be a story for another time, maybe after I played out the conversation with Dr. Jensen first. “Nothing.”

Cass didn’t press the issue, which I appreciated for once. One day, maybe when we were more than just two friends who fucked each other exceptionally well, I would tell her all about my childhood—or lack thereof.

The rest of the morning was mostly uneventful, but I didn’t notice. I was content to just be around her, basking in her presence. It wasn’t until midday that I realized she was typing on her phone…a lot.

That wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but I also noticed she was smiling as she typed—and there was something about her mannerisms that made me suspect she was sending messages. And those messages clearly weren’t going to me because my phone stayed dark the entire time.

“Who are you texting?” I asked when the curiosity (and anxiety) finally consumed me.

To my surprise, Cass didn’t hesitate to say, “My ex.”

Immediately, I stopped typing on my laptop. My hands just froze in place, right in the middle of an email I was sending to one of our board members.

“Who’s your ex?” I asked. “As in the ex? Was this the boyfriend during law school?”

She tried to wave off my question (or questions , rather), and I probably should have let her. But because I was a masochist, I needed to hear her say it. I kept staring at her, waiting for a response.

“He’s just this guy.”

Except he wasn’t just a guy. This was a guy who Cass let upend her life. She wasn’t willing to do that for me, but apparently he had been worth it. “Sounds like a really interesting person.”

“Marcus, I don’t think this is a route we should go down together,” she warned as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t think I should be talking about the guy I used to screw with the guy I’m currently screwing.”

I clicked my tongue. “I’m a details guy, so knowing there’s a story here without getting the full picture is going to eat away at me.”

“Are you jealous?” She canted her head to the side, just as the light from the window caught her hair. It pained me she had to be so gorgeous yet just out of reach.

Quickly, I caught my bearings and said, “Depends. Does he fuck better than I do?”

“No.” Cass’s response was quick—quick enough that I could potentially believe her.

“Oh,” I commented, raising both eyebrows. I sat on this revelation before I said, “Yeah…I thought that reassurance would be enough for me to just let this go, but it’s not. What’s his name?”

“Trevor.”

“And he’s the one?”

“The one?”

“The one that you dropped out of law school to be with. I didn’t realize he was still around.”

“Well, he usually isn’t,” she explained. “I guess he’s just in town and he asked to see me. I haven’t seen him in three years.”

Of course. Of course this fucker would show up, just when Cass and I had a good thing going. I changed my mind—my karma was shit. I wasn’t blessed for good deeds in a past life—I was being punished for some capital malfeasance. Clearly.

“Great fucking timing,” I murmured.

Frowning, Cass looked up at me and shrugged. “I guess. We’re meeting up on Friday…Marcus, I thought you were okay with this.”

“I am.” It was a lie. It was a bald-faced lie. In fact, it was the first lie I had ever told her, and it was such a big lie that it was a genuine miracle I was able to deliver it with a straight face. “I just didn’t realize I was sharing you with an ex. I thought it would be random guys at bars and parties.”

“You’d prefer that?” Her tone was dubious. “You would be happier with me fucking a stranger?”

“Who cares what I prefer? I don’t get a say.”

“But if you did?”

Six-second reset .

“I’d pick the randos at the bars, Cass. I remember that guy who was trying to pick you up at Shelf Atlas the night we hooked up. He was spineless.” I shook my head. “No competition there.”

My laptop pinged and I looked down. I had a meeting with Alex on my calendar.

When I stood up to go and I explained this to Cass, she seemed surprised. I got it. Cass and I had been working together for almost a month now, and this was the first real meeting I’d ever had with Alex.

I didn’t bother saying anything else to her about Trevor as I left. It was a welcome departure from a miserable conversation—and we both knew it.

Seconds later, when I walked into Alex’s office, he was lounging in his chair as usual. He smiled when he saw me.

“So what’s up with the big meeting? You calendared it and everything.”

I was still reeling from Cass’s announcement, but I shook that off quickly. I was the COO, and I still had an obligation to figure out what the hell was going on with our ledgers—even if all I wanted to do was fuck my due diligence analyst until she didn’t crave any cock but mine.

I took a seat on the other side of his desk. “I wanted to talk to you about some of our finances,” I said as I laid out the printouts I prepared for him. “I’m finding some inconsistencies I can’t account for and I’m hoping you can help me out.”

“In the finances?” Alex clarified.

“Yep.”

He chuckled, not even bothering to look at the printouts. “You know I’m not really into this part of the business.”

If he thought he could convince me to leave him out of this, he was about to have a rude awakening. I steeled myself, taking a few seconds to breathe before I said, “I know. That’s why I booked time. I’m going to walk you through it.”

“Is there a reason why?” he continued, still leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I assume you’ve got it all under control.”

It took everything I had not to raise my voice—and that was saying a hell of a lot, because I never shouted—not even at sporting events. I rested my hand on the top of his desk. “But the thing is, I don’t have it under control. We have twenty million dollars on the books I can’t explain.”

Alex cocked his brow. “That’s a lot. Have we been spending that money?”

Six-second reset .

“That’s not how it works. Money was spent, of course, but it’s impossible for me to source back our finances. I’m just trying to figure out why we have twenty million dollars that is clearly all coming from the same place in minuscule installments I never would have looked into if not for Cass.”

“Cassie?” Alex questioned, catching my mistake in a rare moment of astuteness.

“Yeah, her,” I said, moving quickly past it. “So, if this is a matter that’s going to interfere with us finalizing the Davenport-Ridgeway deal, I need to get ahead of it.”

Without missing a beat, Alex shook his head. “Well, I don’t know anything about it.”

“You haven’t even looked yet,” I replied, jabbing my finger onto one of the printouts. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just don’t know anything about any of the money. This has always been your wheelhouse. I’m the coder and the visionary, and you’re the business.”

It was like talking to a child—a very charming, evasive child.

“Did you just call yourself a visionary?”

What a prick .

Alex began to smile, and I knew I was never going to get him on track. After ten years, I could just tell. This was a lost cause.

Sure enough, he said, “I mean, we’re each one hundred and sixty-something million dollars richer than we were when we met. I’m definitely a visionary.”

His response was so quintessentially Alex that I didn’t even want to argue it. Not once had he ever acknowledged that he had been sitting on the idea for Libra for three years before we met—and in a matter of three months I had written him a business plan and acquired him millions in VC funding.

“My future children will certainly thank you for padding their college funds,” I deadpanned, unwilling to play into his hand. “But that net worth is going to plummet if this deal falls through, so help me out here. I need to know if you have any knowledge about why we have extra funds.”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped, his composure slowly fading away. “But it sounds like you don’t believe me, so I’m wondering why we’re having this meeting. Is it for you to pedantically teach me about financial shit, or is it to accuse me of something?”

“What could I possibly accuse you of doing?” I responded, confusion rising. “Alex, are you hiding something?”

His handsome face contorted at the allegation. “No, Marcus. I’m not hiding anything. Are you? Because for the past few months, you’ve been itching to fight with me every time we’re alone. What the hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing.” That was my second lie of the day.

“That’s obviously not true,” he countered. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I don’t care what you think,” I insisted, stacking up my printouts as I spoke. “I’m just trying to do my job. That’s it. I’m not here to do anything other than close out this deal and move on with my life.”

As soon as he heard me say that, Alex canted his head. His face slowly pulled into a frown. “What did you just say?”

Fucking hell, that was a mistake. “Forget it.”

“No,” he insisted, shifting forward to stare at me seriously. “You just insinuated you’re going to leave Libra after the sale. Are you kidding?”

“I’m debating,” I finally admitted, even though this was never how I intended to break this news to Alex. “I haven’t decided.”

“Oh hell no,” he snapped, betrayal visible on his face. “You never mentioned this to me before.”

“So?”

“So? So ? I thought you loved this job.”

I raised both eyebrows. “Who told you that?”

“I just figured…”

He was so damn off base that I found myself laughing. “You figured I liked having every part of my life tailored and controlled so you could snort coke off an Instagram model’s ass cheeks?”

“What are you talking about?”

I shook my head. We weren’t going to go down this road—not today, at least. “Whatever. Look, I’ll figure out the issue with the cash. Forget I asked.” I picked up my stuff and headed towards the door.

“Are you seriously not going to stay and talk to me about the fact you just confessed to hating this job?” he called after me.

“Let it go,” I snapped, lingering by the exit. “I’m serious. Let it go.”