covered the gray marble walls, showcasing some of my favorite landscapes and vacation spots. The nighttime city skyline of Bigtime, New York. An aerial shot of the Midway amusement circle in Cloudburst Falls, West Virginia. The snow-covered streets and shops of Cypress Mountain, North Carolina. Since I didn’t have a window, the prints were my version of a view.
I used to love coming into my office, settling into my executive’s desk chair, firing up my computer, and getting to work, figuring out the best investments for my clients and how I could protect and grow their money for them and their families.
Not anymore. Not for weeks now.
The door was open, and a giant wearing a gray security guard’s uniform stopped in the hallway outside and peered into my office, his face pinched with suspicion.
“What’s going on in here?” he muttered.
He might be doing his usual hourly check of the basement offices, but the guard’s flat, surly tone revealed what he really thought of me: nothing good.
I forced myself to smile at him as though I hadn’t heard the accusation in his voice. “Hey, Jimmy. Everything’s fine. Just having lunch with my sister, Gin.”
Jimmy’s dark eyes narrowed. “Is she on the approved guest list? I would hate to tell Mr. Mosley that you broke his new security protocols.”
I ground my teeth together to keep from sniping back at him. Jimmy would love nothing more than to tattle on me to Stuart Mosley, the bank’s founder, and he wasn’t the only one. All the employees wanted me gone. The sad thing was that I couldn’t blame them for their hostility.
Not when I’d gotten their friends and coworkers killed.
Gin had also picked up on the guard’s nasty tone, and she turned her chair to the side so she could see him better. “Oh, sugar,” she drawled. “I’m always on the approved list around here. Tell me something, Jimmy.”
“What?” the guard muttered again.
“From what I understand, Mr. Mosley prides himself on his employees’ politeness and professionalism. I wonder if he would approve of you speaking to one of the senior bank officials like that. And in front of his own sister, no less. Perhaps we should call Mr. Mosley and ask him about proper protocols.”
She smiled at him, but the cold look in her wintry gray eyes would have frozen most people’s blood outright. Despite the fact that the giant was almost twice her size, Jimmy swallowed and took a nervous step back.
“I–I don’t think that’s necessary,” he sputtered. “Enjoy your lunch, ma’am. You too, Mr. Lane.” Jimmy bobbed his head at Gin and beat a hasty retreat down the hallway.
Gin waited until the sharp echo of his footsteps had faded away before she swiveled her chair around and faced me again.
“You enjoyed that,” I accused.
“Intimidating a bully with a bad attitude? Absolutely.”
She gave me a smug grin and leaned back in her chair, happy to have defended my honor. But her satisfied expression slowly melted away, and a few seconds later, she was eyeing me again, concern creasing her pretty face.
“Although I wouldn’t have had to do that if you would just stick up for yourself,” she said. “What happened was not your fault—”
I snapped up my hand, cutting her off. “I really don’t want to talk about my coworkers’ low opinions of me right now.”
Gin realized that she’d pushed me enough, so she changed the topic. “Approved guest list? I take it that’s another new security measure?”
I grimaced and tossed my fork down onto my plate. “Yeah.”
First Trust was Ashland’s most exclusive bank, serving the city’s social, magical, and—especially—monetary elite. But it was also the bank under the most scrutiny, thanks to me.
A couple of weeks ago, Deirdre Shaw, my long-lost mother, had shown up in Ashland, claiming that she wanted to finally get to know me, her son, after being gone for the last thirty-three years of my life. I’d thought my mother had been
I used to love coming into my office, settling into my executive’s desk chair, firing up my computer, and getting to work, figuring out the best investments for my clients and how I could protect and grow their money for them and their families.
Not anymore. Not for weeks now.
The door was open, and a giant wearing a gray security guard’s uniform stopped in the hallway outside and peered into my office, his face pinched with suspicion.
“What’s going on in here?” he muttered.
He might be doing his usual hourly check of the basement offices, but the guard’s flat, surly tone revealed what he really thought of me: nothing good.
I forced myself to smile at him as though I hadn’t heard the accusation in his voice. “Hey, Jimmy. Everything’s fine. Just having lunch with my sister, Gin.”
Jimmy’s dark eyes narrowed. “Is she on the approved guest list? I would hate to tell Mr. Mosley that you broke his new security protocols.”
I ground my teeth together to keep from sniping back at him. Jimmy would love nothing more than to tattle on me to Stuart Mosley, the bank’s founder, and he wasn’t the only one. All the employees wanted me gone. The sad thing was that I couldn’t blame them for their hostility.
Not when I’d gotten their friends and coworkers killed.
Gin had also picked up on the guard’s nasty tone, and she turned her chair to the side so she could see him better. “Oh, sugar,” she drawled. “I’m always on the approved list around here. Tell me something, Jimmy.”
“What?” the guard muttered again.
“From what I understand, Mr. Mosley prides himself on his employees’ politeness and professionalism. I wonder if he would approve of you speaking to one of the senior bank officials like that. And in front of his own sister, no less. Perhaps we should call Mr. Mosley and ask him about proper protocols.”
She smiled at him, but the cold look in her wintry gray eyes would have frozen most people’s blood outright. Despite the fact that the giant was almost twice her size, Jimmy swallowed and took a nervous step back.
“I–I don’t think that’s necessary,” he sputtered. “Enjoy your lunch, ma’am. You too, Mr. Lane.” Jimmy bobbed his head at Gin and beat a hasty retreat down the hallway.
Gin waited until the sharp echo of his footsteps had faded away before she swiveled her chair around and faced me again.
“You enjoyed that,” I accused.
“Intimidating a bully with a bad attitude? Absolutely.”
She gave me a smug grin and leaned back in her chair, happy to have defended my honor. But her satisfied expression slowly melted away, and a few seconds later, she was eyeing me again, concern creasing her pretty face.
“Although I wouldn’t have had to do that if you would just stick up for yourself,” she said. “What happened was not your fault—”
I snapped up my hand, cutting her off. “I really don’t want to talk about my coworkers’ low opinions of me right now.”
Gin realized that she’d pushed me enough, so she changed the topic. “Approved guest list? I take it that’s another new security measure?”
I grimaced and tossed my fork down onto my plate. “Yeah.”
First Trust was Ashland’s most exclusive bank, serving the city’s social, magical, and—especially—monetary elite. But it was also the bank under the most scrutiny, thanks to me.
A couple of weeks ago, Deirdre Shaw, my long-lost mother, had shown up in Ashland, claiming that she wanted to finally get to know me, her son, after being gone for the last thirty-three years of my life. I’d thought my mother had been
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