/Zane's POV/
"Umm." I tapped the conference-room table pensively as I reviewed the file in front of me, cross-checking it against the graph displayed on the big screen.
It was time for the yearly performance evaluation of the celebrities managed by my company, and I can't express how disappointed I was with that little dent in the profit curve. I could see the anxiousness growing among every single director seated, all waiting for me to make a comment like criminals awaiting a judge's verdict.
No matter how hard I work, many of the people surrounding me are lazy fuckers who only know how to mooch off my hard work with nothing to show for it. Of course this kind of shit happens.
I know this year hasn't been one of our best—with two of our artists involved in scandals and one hospitalised after being stabbed, the public opinion about the company at the moment isn't exactly great—but I've kept trying hard to turn the situation around. Yet while I was working my ass off, some of these bastards have been fucking around.
"Eighty million." My voice broke the heavy silence that drowned the room in fear and anxiousness. "That's our total profit this quarter —down nearly thirty percent from last year's projection. I'm pretty sure I was here last year when you made me empty promises to do even better after the end-of-year celebration. This doesn't seem like the greater heights you all promised, though. Just what the fuck have you all been doing?" I demanded—my voice low but loaded with tension.
I guess I've been too distracted to notice the termites slowly eating away at my company.
Among the people lined up in front of me, there are a couple of parasitic bastards I need to find and cut off before they become an even bigger problem.
Did they really think I'm blind because I've been so focused on Allison lately—or maybe since last year when I was planning to get married? To think they'd dare use that as an opportunity to mess with me… these bastards clearly don't know me.
If I hadn't been secretly investigating the embezzlement happening in the company, I'd probably be pointing fingers at the wrong people for the mess we're in at the moment.
The managerial department, Risk Management, and the rest of the Finance Department would be getting the blame right about now for the drop in profit if three people—one from Risk Management, another from Finance, and the last from Accounting—hadn't called my attention to the rat siphoning from my company.
Nobody fucking steals from me. I snickered in disbelief at the careless audacity. I was ready to bite their bait by asking the Risk Management team to take responsibility when my phone blared to life. It was Ayanna.
"Just leave. I'm already pissed as it is—seeing more of your faces just pisses me off even more," I said, dismissing them. The older directors, some old enough to be my father, grumbled and muttered as they stood. "Noah, have the Risk Management Department submit a report on how this fucking happened and I want expense reports from every department head by morning." I added as I rose to my feet and moved over to the corner facing the bright view of the city spilled into endless rectangles of billboards and skyscrapers.
"What's this about?" I said the moment I picked up, hoping my anger over what's going on at the company wouldn't roll through the waves.
"You're as rude as ever. Anyway, this isn't about me—it's Maddy." I tensed, sighed, and slid my free hand into my pocket, but my restless heart had already picked up pace. Aya wouldn't have called if it was something she could handle on her own. I couldn't stop myself from worrying about her even if I wanted to.
"Is she okay?" I asked, and Ayanna sighed.
"That's what I called to ask. You live with her, don't you? I'm sure you'd notice if something's wrong." She paused, then her tone shifted to judgy. "But then again, you being such a workaholic could blind you to these things. Anyway, she was just a little off today. I tried to ignore it, but she looked a little absent-minded—hardly listening to anything I said. She said she just needed some rest, but I still wanted to call you to let me in on any changes in the plan or if there's anything else I should know."
I couldn't possibly tell her that Maddy was attracted to me and I've been avoiding her like a fucking coward, unable to face her.
"She's probably just tired, but I'll talk to her," I promised.
"Okay, but if it's you putting pressure on her…I won't forgive you. She's been working her hardest, you know."
I scoffed in disbelief. "Says the one who wanted me to send her home packing. What—did you suddenly fall in love with her or something?" I asked with a small laugh.
"Well…I do believe we've grown a little closer these days. Although she's still Allison's polar opposite, she's a lot quieter and more observant—"
"Anya," I called in a cautioning tone because I knew just where this conversation was heading; after all, Anya never liked Allison—something about her being too pretentious.
"Scold me all you want. Maddy's a lot different, although very wary, and she does the listening rather than making everything about her all the time—like someone I know."
"Anya, that's enough," I almost snapped.
"Well, whatever. I just wanted to tell you that. I'm hanging up." With that, our call ended.
The situation with Maddy did nothing to sort my thoughts. Just like the many days I spent avoiding her, they all weren't enough to get her out of my head, and now I'm more worried something's really up with her.
Dread settled deep in my belly at the thought that she might want to quit. If she does, all my plans will be for naught. There's no way I'm letting that happen. This whole thing was my plan B, in case the police failed me like they already are.
"Zane." Speak of the devil, I thought with a smirk, turning to see Vik standing behind me in the flesh. His clothes were overly casual, and he looked a lot more exhausted than usual.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded in a blank tone.
"That's cold; a simple greeting would do."
"You and I both know what you're here for, isn't it?" I tucked my second hand into my pocket along with my phone before leaning against the wall, waiting for Vikram to tell me exactly why he came to find me.
"I got your parcel. It didn't help much, but it helped clear a lot of air."
Yeah, right. While avoiding Allison these days, I'd spent a lot more time in my room, so I had the opportunity to search for the phone.
I rummaged through it a bit before sending it over to Vik; it both helped and fuelled my doubts about Allison's circumstances with Elias.
"I'm glad it helped," I said, straightening up to leave.
"I'm actually here to ask you to allow me to see Allison again—"
"Don't push it, Vik. Well, wait…you already did when you let Elias walk out scot-free when he might be the major cause of this mess."
"The issue between you, Allison, and Elias felt personal. The law doesn't handle marital spats, Zane," he clarified. "We've got nothing on him for the murder and looked into his movements right up until it happened. There was no motive—he looked like he would've protected her rather than hurt her—"
"And I wouldn't have, right?" My eyes turned cold.
"I never said that," he fretted.
"You didn't have to." I turned away. "Get ready to hand the case over to someone else, Vik," I told him just as I started walking off. I was tired of him questioning every action I took.
"What?"
"You're being too objective and personal about it. I'm not sure that isn't clouding your judgement."
"And you're not?" he argued back. "This isn't about you, Zane. This is about Allison, so let me see her. There has to be something we're not seeing—no matter how many times I look at it, the pieces just can't seem to fit. We need her help." He insisted, following me persistently as I left the conference room and headed for the elevator.
"Zane. This can happen again, and you know it. Help me help you."
I'm counting on it, I thought, remaining quiet, ignoring him until the elevator arrived. He watched as the doors closed with me inside. Vik's frustration couldn't be more obvious when he ruffled his hair. To him, I was making this a lot more difficult than it should be. I didn't have a choice—after all, our methods of handling the situation are clearly different.
For some reason, I wanted to see Maddy. I wanted to believe I had nothing to do with why she acted out today, but I couldn't be sure.
Heading home was a breeze due to light traffic, but driving into the neighbourhood I passed by a familiar and suspicious figure that made me frown. When I got into the house, I was right—Madison wasn't home.
What's the point of security if someone can sneak in and out of the house without getting caught? I thought as I rushed back to my car to track down the woman my eyes had caught briefly on my way home. Something told me that was Maddy.
But she was getting into a taxi by the time I reached the junction, so I followed. I'd probably have continued to watch her quietly from outside the café if I hadn't seen her walking over to another familiar person.
What's Damian doing here? He knows her face, for fuck's sake!
—-------