To be honest, I was happy on the second of December, when I sent Brittany back to boarding school and, feeling invigorated, headed off to work.
Theron picked me up. In the car each of us was occupied with our own matters. I was sorting through lists of documents; he was speaking to someone on the phone.
On the way I sifted through my thoughts. What to pay attention to. Where the weak points might be. I had studied the companies in advance, and now I was running everything through my head again, arranging the order.
"Do not leave Ostin's side for a single step, and make sure your security stays close," Theron reminded me when I was getting out on Ostin's floor.
"All right."
I agreed. It was part of our main arrangement.
I tried to leave quickly. The disappointment still crept inside. Theron does not kiss me. Even his touches have become rare. And this surfaces in my mind every time we are near each other.
I definitely do not like this.
Ostin was already ready and packing his bag.
"We'll start with Vest Hall. The company focuses mainly on cargo and the delivery of exclusive furniture worldwide and other interior inventory. We have used them often. But our last leak occurred precisely there."
He handed me a folder.
Inside was not a description of the company, but a list of employees. About twenty people.
"They could, in one way or another, have seen and participated in processing three stages of our documents. From the courier to the sending of reports to the head office."
That was already something new. And interesting.
I began flipping through it as we headed to the parking lot. In the car I did not take my eyes off the pages.
"As a rule, the employees' positions are always the same, so it's difficult to find a pattern," Ostin added, as though anticipating my questions.
"How did you catch the rat last time?" I asked directly. I had been curious about that for a long time.
The question seemed to catch him off guard. But he answered nonetheless.
"It wasn't a rat. More like surveillance from the FBI," Ostin said reluctantly. "One service company was handling equipment and electrical inspections. They installed listening devices. And while everyone was distracted, they uploaded their program onto a network computer. Through it, they could read us."
"But that wouldn't count as official evidence," I replied doubtfully.
"Yes. But they used that information. And then, based on it, they identified our deals," he clarified.
That made sense.
"But how did you figure it out?"
"Liana found the program. She noticed irregularities in the system. After that, we conducted an inspection and found out the service was an FBI front."
Liana found the program?
Noticed irregularities?
That did not fit her profile. She loved attention. Loved herself. Loved to demonstrate how high she stood beside Theron.
How could such a girl uncover an FBI program?
Strange.
But I remained silent.
I recalled the words: "She proved her loyalty."
"And let me guess, after that they began to trust her? Now she enters their family estate and has become part of the system?" I asked carefully.
"I don't know where you got that information," Ostin replied calmly. "But yes. After that exposure, in the clan and the family she began to be trusted. And it also played a role that in the past she was Theron's mistress."
Mistress.
The word scratched.
"How long were they together? And during what period?" I asked, feeling an unpleasant movement inside.
Ostin looked at me skeptically.
"I think it's better to ask Theron."
His voice was calm. But it gave me nothing.
I asked no more questions.
Am I really reacting too jealously toward Liana that I am beginning to doubt her position?
Do my feelings make me biased? Am I missing something?
"What is wrong with you, Mirey."
I scolded myself inwardly. Too sensitive. Too unfocused.
After Theron had seemed to confess to me… and at the same time stopped looking at me with desire.
It unsettles.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten.
I need to let this go. Lock it inside. Not release it.
Think with my head. With logic. Not with feelings.
We arrived and immediately headed to the main office.
At the reception desk, as usual, we were greeted by a beautiful girl under thirty. A rehearsed smile. An appraising gaze. She escorted us to the conference room.
Within a few minutes all the department heads and their assistants were already seated there.
Ostin and I, according to the agreed scheme, requested the necessary documents.
I noted that their budget had slightly exceeded last year's. We needed reasons and explanations for each report that exceeded the limit.
After these words the director became noticeably nervous.
Most likely they had written themselves unjustified bonuses. Or made equally unjustified purchases.
And if I had come alone, even with security, they would simply have turned me away with my demands.
But Ostin was here.
And instead of confidence, all they had left were fat, sweaty hands, which they nervously fidgeted under the table.
After a couple of hours in the company and endless wandering through all the floors and offices, I found nothing that could help in our task.
No one clearly stood out.
Everyone was nervous in the same way.
They cast sidelong glances at me and at Ostin as we entered each office. At times we checked computers—as though choosing at random. But each time it belonged to a person from the list.
There are no coincidences. And everything was clean. I could find nothing.
That day we visited three more companies. The result was the same everywhere.
Nothing.
Have I really taken on something beyond my strength?
Overconfident. And in the end—empty.
Ostin drove me home. Two guards escorted me to the door. He allowed me to take the personnel files of the employees of the companies we planned to visit tomorrow.
Upon entering the apartment, I noticed the familiar package from the restaurant. Theron always orders food there. Beside it—a note.
"Call me."
I froze for a moment. Then I walked through the apartment, checked the bedroom, the bathroom. Empty.
I dialed him.
"Hello, my sun."
Too gentle a voice.
"Hello."
Something inside twitched.
"How was your day?" The same unaccustomed softness.
"It could have been better," I replied sarcastically, concealing my disappointment in myself. "And you? It's the first time you're calling like this. Did something happen?"
"No."
It seemed to me that he lied.
"Urgent matters arose. I had to fly to Vietnam. I'll be back in two days."
A pause. He was choosing his words.
"Don't forget to stay close to security." A heavy breath in the receiver. "Please."
"All right," I cut him off at once. "That's our agreement. I'm observing it. You don't have to worry."
"Excellent. I'm glad you took it seriously."
His voice gradually became familiar. Harder.
"How were the visits to the companies?"
Now it was my turn to sigh.
"I found nothing," I tried to keep my voice cheerful. "Perhaps I overestimated my abilities?"
A rhetorical question. I am not a genius. I simply know the laws and know how to use them. I solve problems.
"It's all right. You're not obliged to see anything. Even we don't see it. So everything is fine."
He seemed to be comforting me. Another unfamiliar trait of his.
A question spun in my head. Personal. Unpleasant.
Is it appropriate?
"I have a question. Personal."
"Ask."
His voice was even.
"How long was Liana your mistress? And when?"
Silence.
"Theron?" I checked the connection.
"I prefer that you ask such questions in person," he replied coldly.
"Why? I need to understand the picture. Ostin told me how she uncovered the FBI bugging."
A pause.
"It was about two and a half years ago. I slept with her for six months. Until…"
He broke off.
Until?
Until what?
Until Amy appeared.
The thought struck instantly.
"Mirey, I will answer such questions. But only in person. Not over the phone."
"It's all right. I already said, enough of this excessive care. I am not a child. You and I slept with others—that is normal. I accept it as a given."
I always accepted it.
But not today.
"No. I want to see you when you ask that. To understand whether you are jealous or whether it is truly a question for the case," his voice grew colder. "When I arrive, you will be able to ask me anything. But not now."
It was too obvious. He is shielding me from information. And that is not like him.
Before, he could stay at my place overnight, and the next day calmly appear at an event with Amy. And everything was… normal. Without explanations. Without pauses.
And now—this care. This attentiveness to details.
Yes, precisely that.
It begins to pierce the wall I built years ago..
"I am asking for the case," I intervened at once. "I need to understand the time frame of the past incident. How it was. In order to build the picture. Nothing personal."
I insisted.
As though I were convincing not him, but myself.
Voices were heard in the background.
"I need to go," he said coldly. "Stay with security."
That was the last thing he said. The connection was cut.
I placed the phone on the table and shook my head.
"Throw it out. Immediately."
Ridiculous feelings. Unnecessary.
I opened the package Theron had sent, prepared dinner. Began sorting through the files I had taken home. I completely threw his care out of my head. Focused on the case.
Despite the resistance inside me, despite the heaviness, I nevertheless immersed myself in the documents. After dinner I was no longer distracted. Only numbers, surnames, signatures.
I fell asleep right in the bed with the folders.
In the morning Ostin picked me up, and we headed to the next company. He reminded me that all the documents we requested would be on my desk.
I understood that there would be much work.
And I was glad.
Only through work can I bring order to my feelings. It has always been so.
But in the very first company again we failed to identify anything. Not a single lead. Not a single irregularity.
With a skeptical mood I headed to the next one. Ostin, unlike me, looked calm.
We approached the secretary and stated the purpose of our visit. She, like the others before her, began preparing the conference room.
But here there was something different.
I looked at her and understood—I had seen her before.
Where?
I followed her movements. Listened to her voice.
It was familiar.
I did not take my eyes off her, sifting through her face in my memory, the intonations, the turn of her head.
And suddenly—a flash.
I remembered.
"Ostin," I called, trying not to reveal the shock.
"Noticed something?" he caught on at once.
Damn. I have become a poor actress.
I opened the folder and looked over the list of companies again. But I already knew.
"Phoenix" was also on it.
"I'm not sure… but I think I found what we are looking for."
"What?"
"Her."
I gave a barely perceptible nod in the direction of the secretary who was preparing the room for the meeting.