“-is the best private butcher meets meat market business-”
“Definitely too many meats.”
“-in the state and among the best in the country. We conduct operations from coast to coast and internationally. We have main offices that operate in a number of major cities worldwide. Our clients, whether they are being served in the comfort of their own homes, their own yachts, or their favorite five-star restaurants are provided with the il meglio del meglio, from how those animals are raised to how they are cut. This requires a vast collection of enterprises, all of which have accounting departments. So, Miss Brooks, you’ll have to say something slightly more impressive if you would like my second not to shoot.”
Miko can’t resist the instinct to smirk or poke the situation. “È un invito a sparare?”
Is that an invitation to shoot?
Obviously, that’s not an invitation nor is it one for him to keep up this cheeky fucking behavior.
The sarcastic stare he’s tossed is met by a seemingly innocent shoulder shrug.
Miss Brooks pushes her shoulders back and plops her free hand on her hip. “I, Mr. Bennett,” her spouted ire in the form of my name swells my shaft to the point of pain, “am head of the small firm here in town.” She takes two steps forward and the click of the heels are like bitch slaps to my stubble-covered face. “The one that handles your raw books that are to be burned on an unpredictable basis at the discretion of The Accountant.” Two more steps. “I am head of the firm that collects the data worldwide and checks it for consistency, discrepancies, and errors which will affect the everchanging business model for your under-the-butcher-board operations, if you will.” Another step seals my lips together. “I’m the person in charge of insuring you’re not being fucked in ways you haven’t permitted.”
Grumbles and groans knock into each other behind my gnashing teeth.
Word choice.
Imagery.
Confidence.
Arrogance.
I’m basically three unsteady breaths away from snatching her by the throat, bending her over my desk, and fucking her into a more submissive state.
My hands fall to block my crotch at the same time I silently stare on for more information.
“When I took this job, a year ago, I was told the security card I was given could get me into any and every building in your network.” A crooked, almost vindictive smile creeps onto her face. “Turns out it that’s absolutely true.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“Doesn’t mean it isn’t.”
Her retort settles poorly on my shoulders.
“Security scanned my badge and assumed I had an appointment when I stated that I was here to see you.” She saunters a little closer until the possibility of pulling her into me like I want is more probable than ever. “I didn’t, technically, lie; however, I did not exactly lead them to believe otherwise.”
“Deceitful.”
“Determined.”
“Dangerous,” Miko mumbles in the background. “And a protocol I will be fucking fixing.”
“How exactly did you find my office once inside, Miss Brooks?”
“I am not going to contribute to the firing or murdering of any more of your staff, Mr. Bennett.”
“Why not?” My hands fold firmly together as my head angles in curiosity. “Why should they be allowed to live if they do not care about the wellbeing of the man who employs them?”
“They – unlike the man rotting outside the door – did assess me within arm’s reach of a weapon – some inconspicuously hidden, some not – prior to redirecting me the proper direction.”
“Metti via la tua arma, Miko.”
Put your weapon away, Miko.
He gives me a long look of disagreement followed by a shake of the head as he follows the command.
“Now, are my answers to your satisfaction, Mr. Bennett, or would you like to waste more of your valuable time?”
“At least you know my time is valuable.”
“It would be foolish to believe it to be otherwise.”
The smirk that touches my lips is stronger than I care for. “Why the desperation to see me, Miss Brooks?”
Her mouth twitches to answer right away yet pauses to steal a glimpse of the other person in the room.
“You may speak freely,” I calmly reassure. “His betrayal is as unlikely as my own.” When her light brown gaze returns to my hazel still baring the hue of worry, I add, “You can trust Miko, the same as you can trust me with whatever information lies within your delicate hands.”
She politely nods and extends the file my direction. “These are the reports in question, along with all my notes and thoughts and theories.”
I take the thick folder into my possession.
“At first glance, they look like innocent mix ups. Few wrong numbers. Couple columns of information switched. No one branch or family in particular being targeted or benefiting either from the mistakes. And since I can’t compare them to the previous years’ logs, there’s no way of knowing if these were truly accidents by someone who is careless or perhaps incompetent or someone who has an ulterior agenda and this just so happens to be a pattern I’ve stumbled upon.” Miss Brooks doesn’t pause for conversation contributions. “However, to me, it seems rather suspicious the first error occurred on my first day in this new position almost a year ago, which was also your first day as taking full command after your father’s passing.” A sympathetic tilt to her head is given. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Bennett. It’s to my understanding it was unexpected.”
Casually, I toss the object on my desk beside me. “Depends on who you ask. The doctors were surprised he had lived as long as he did considering his diet consisted of eating high amounts of red meats and white potatoes and guzzling back bottles of Wilcox whiskey instead of glasses.”
“Tutti sanno che il vino è più salutare per te,” Miko offhandedly states.
Yes, wine is, obviously, healthier for you in comparison to an entire fucking bottle of aged whiskey.
Idiot.
Concern cakes itself unnecessarily into her tone. “You sound unaffected by his death.”
“Indifferente.”
We live.
We die.
We slice the world into manageable prime cuts in between.
It’s the life of a Bennett.
Hard to miss someone you saw so very little of to begin with.