Ugh. This was the bank account and tax number part.
A long call yesterday, with a long enough hold time that I swore I visibly aged, got me through to the tax office. They’d confirmed I had no tax number. After a transfer to another department, I’d discovered that a tax number took three to six weeks to process and I’d need two forms of identification and proof of address. I had one form of ID—my learner’s driver’s licence. I only sat the stupid test so I had something to get into clubs with.
“About that,” I said, my gut churning. “I wrote down my tax number, but I’m in the middle of moving, and for the life of me, I couldn’t find the bit of paper.”
Tommy had dutifully jotted down her bank account and tax details for me this morning. While she did that, I searched and found that what we intended to do was tax fraud—with consequences neither of us could afford.
Just like Tommy not to say a damn thing. I wasn’t putting her in that position. I’d have to file for a tax number as soon as possible and delay Live Right in the meantime.
My gaze dropped with the lie, but a peek upward yielded surprising results. Angelica looked amused again.
The slight quirk of her lips was gone in a blink.
My brows wrinkled at her smooth expression. Had I seen amusement? Maybe it was a trick of the light.
“Don’t worry about any of that,” she said, flashing a smile.
I swallowed at her teeth.
I felt… threatened by her teeth. What the hell? Was it because they were so white? I’d visited Bali a few times and been harassed by monkeys for food. To them, smiling was a sign of aggression. Which meant that if her smile got my back up… I was a monkey.
But what did that make Angelica?
“Basi?”
Crap. “Um. Don’t worry?” I asked weakly.
Her head was tilted again. “We pay in cash.”
“Really?”
“You’re required to pay tax yourself, of course. You’re a contractor—except we pay you annual leave, sick, and grievance days. It’s easier for the books if we pay in cash.”
I registered the term contractor and very little else. What did the term contractor mean? I associated it with builders and the like. Dammit. This was the definite downside to being rich enough to afford teams who handled the nitty-gritty. Was contracting workers a normal way of paying people in the realty industry?
I’d ask Tommy tonight—but this twist of events might work out perfectly.
“You don’t need any of my details?” I asked, patting my pack. “Because I’ve got the rest of them right here.”
Call me Bluffing Basi.
Amusement flashed in her eyes again. This time I was certain of it. What was so damn funny?
Angelica gestured to a stack of papers. “Just a few details to get to know you. That’s all.”
6
“This is the staff room,” Angelica purred, gesturing around the huge room.
More like a school cafeteria, really.
“You’re welcome to put food in the fridge and use the kettle for hot drinks.” She continued.
“Great,” I mumbled.
How many staff did they have? The room was massive. It had to take up a quarter of Level 44, yet we were still the only people in the building after two hours of forms and awkward chit-chat.
True to her word, I hadn’t needed to present any important numbers. Not even my driver’s licence. As such, I was now Basi Tetley.
The forms were just a series of tedious personality questionnaires because Angelica liked the team to be close. If the others were like her, I could safely count myself out of social events.
Angelica showed me the bathroom and supply rooms next. Level 44 was wrapped around the elevator. Aside from the open reception area and the staff room, the rest of the level was divided into offices.
“How many people work here?” I finally asked. There were a lot of rooms.
“One hundred.”
I must have made a sound of surprise. She smiled—I seriously wished she’d stop. “Live Right Realty is the largest and most profitable realty business in Bluff City.”
I was duly impressed. “I didn’t know that.”
Bet my grandmother did. Nothing happened in this city without her knowledge.
“We get great results.” Her voice dropped into a fervent tone I’d otherwise associate with Sir Lancelot making an oath to a fair maiden.
By now, the way my heart thumped in her presence had wrung every bit of energy from me. I was too tired to be on edge anymore, and it wasn’t even 2:00 p.m. Just from being near my boss.
That was messed up.
Wasn’t it?
“This is your office,” she declared, pushing open the door to a room in the far corner of the level.
The office contained a marble desk, flat-screen computer, three black leather chairs, and a sleek standing lamp. The charcoal walls were bare.
I’d definitely been shoved in the corner. But I was a trainee. What was more, that’s where I preferred to be in this establishment. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
She showed tooth again. “It’s Live Right tradition to hang pictures of the homes you secure. Yours are empty for now, but I’m sure they’ll fill up in no time.”
Secure. There was that strange term again.
With a dainty twist of her wrist, Angelica consulted her Foffz watch. “Time for lunch.”
I kept my sigh of relief contained. I wasn’t hungry, but time away from my intense boss would be a welcome change.
“Is two hours enough?” she asked, light confusion showing on her ethereal face.
How old was this woman? She only appeared late twenties at most. How was she the owner of the largest realty business in Bluff City at so young an age?
Wait… was she asking how long I wanted for lunch? On Truth Ranges, the nurses had half an hour for lunch, and the surgeons got an hour. But no one chose how long they wanted.
“Whatever’s normal,” I murmured.
She searched my expression. “Two hours. If that’s not enough, please tell me.”
What kind of job had I nabbed that I had a two hours minimum lunch break?
I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I can work with that.”
“Then take a moment to get settled in. I’ll expect you back at 4:00 p.m. to introduce you to the rest of the team.”
With a final baring of teeth that had me forcing back a shudder, Angelica left the room.
The greater the distance between us, the better I felt. Which had to be in my head, right? Crap, I was losing the plot. My shoulders sagged, and the slight headache I hadn’t detected dissipated.
My breath filled my lungs instead of occupying my throat.
I’d never had such a physical response to a person, and I had no idea how to interpret it. Why did she scare me so much? Was it because she literally held my future in her hands?
I didn’t think it was so simple.
The feeling of being a monkey hit me again.
Something about her was predatory and seriously set off my warning instincts. Or maybe it was because I was used to being top of the food chain and didn’t know how to handle the reverse.
Either way, a bad sleep as I tore between excitement and nerves and stress was now messing with my imagination.