Chapter Three
Addilyn
I couldn’t get Harris Worthington out of my mind, and the man was so off limits. He wasn’t much younger than my father and, just like my father, he had way too much power over my life. My job was at his mercy. My ability to pay my rent and buy groceries were at the mercy of his whims. Yet, the way his slacks fell over that tight butt of his, the way he moved, and the way he looked at me... I got tingles every time I thought about him.
Doing a surreptitious look around to make sure that no one would notice my not-so-subtle curiosity, I brought up the internet and googled Select Holdings, Inc. to learn about what its website said about the man that made me cross my legs and squeeze. It didn’t provide much, but it did list a few organizations for which Mr. Worthington was the chair. They were all for good causes or charitable in nature—but no less profitable—go figure, and I was starting to feel like Mr. Worthington was trying too hard to look like a choir boy. The man was covering up a darker side. He had to be. Nobody was that perfect.
Going back to Google’s main page, I widened my search, pulling up every piece of information that I could find on the man, and there was a lot. There were pictures of him at charities, shaking hands with other noteworthy donators. But I knew a thing or two about high society charitable events. They were rarely about the charities they supported. People attended them to be seen, to have their pictures flash across the media, and for the opportunity to rub elbows and network with the various millionaires and billionaires in attendance. It was an opportunity for shameless self-promotion, all for the measly price tag of $25,000 a plate. Chump change to those in attendance. So, I definitely was not impressed by his show of generosity by attending such events.
I dug further, leaning closer to the screen as I immersed myself in the life of a man whom I had no business researching. He’d helped to fund a class action suit against a now defunct company that had poisoned an entire neighborhood with environmental pollutants. He’d donated office space to a small, independently run suicide hotline crisis center. He’d sent three tractor trailers full of emergency relief supplies into a hurricane devastated region.
I growled at the screen, just about seeing red. Only a man who was truly vile would put so much effort into appearing so good.
“Addilyn.”
My head snapped up from the sound of my name. “Yes, ma’am?”
Pam had a report in one hand and two binders cradled in her other arm. “I need for you to give this report to Mr. Worthington and tell him that it’s the evaluation of the Sandburg acquisition. He needs it as soon as possible, but wait until he is off the phone before you go in to give it to him. I can’t wait any longer. I have a meeting scheduled with the department heads to go over the operations changes that they need to review before their meeting with Mr. Worthington tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I did the quick keystroke sequence that would lock my computer, a required security measure that also had the added benefit of wiping all evidence of my inquiring-minds-wanna-know pursuit to dig up dirt on Mr. Worthington off of my screen. Taking the folder from Pam, I headed to Mr. Worthington’s office and stood outside. Just as Pam had said, Mr. Worthington was on the phone, and I could hear his raised voice seeping through his closed office doors.
He was mad. I couldn’t pick out every word but from what I could put together Mr. Worthington was furious about the quarter projections. I fought to keep away my gleeful smile that his company was not performing as well as he’d thought it would, but as more words drifted to my ears I realized that under performance wasn’t Mr. Worthington’s concern. The quarterly projections weren’t adding up with the raw data produced independently by each department. Either the raw data was being recorded and reported incorrectly or there was something terribly wrong with the quarterly report, and Mr. Worthington wanted to know which it was. If the data they used to make decisions was corrupt, then the decisions they were making could be leading the company in an entirely destructive direction. Entire corporations had been felled because of such errors, and there was no telling how long the erroneous data had been being used to drive the company’s future plans.
I had my father to thank for the lovely bit of knowledge.
The phone call seemed to go on forever as behind me various office staff closed their computers, gathered their belongings and left for the day. But I stayed right where I was, shifting my weight from one tired foot to the other. Finally, another twenty minutes later, Mr. Worthington’s voice raised to a crescendo before dropping down to a dangerous growl. A moment later, the sharp sound of the phone slamming into its cradle reached my ears followed by the echoing sound of silence.
Feeling more timid than I was comfortable admitting to myself, I reached for the handle of Mr. Worthington’s office door only to have the cold metal torn from my fingertips when the door yanked open. The solid wood’s disappearance left me face to face with a furious Mr. Worthington. I knew that my eyes had to be as big as saucers, and I felt heat flood my cheeks. While I had been purposefully snooping about my boss and his life back at my desk, that had not been my intention here. Yet, that was exactly what it looked as though I’d been doing.
“Here!” I thrust the Sandburg report forward in both hands even though both his hands were full, one with his briefcase and the other with his draped coat. “Pam said you needed this and not to disturb you while you were on the phone.” I said it all in one rushed breath.
Mr. Worthington’s reply was more grunt than words as he transferred his coat to lay over his forearm before taking the report from my hands. He looked down at the folder then back up at me. “Where is she?”
“Meeting with department heads, Conference Room E.” I pointed over my shoulder.
Mr. Worthington shoved his report into his briefcase. “Tell her to cancel my evening meeting and to reschedule the board meeting set for tomorrow. Tell her I’ve gone home for the day and that she’s excused to leave as well.”
“Yes, sir.” He brushed past me without another look as he blazed a trail down the hallway, around a bend and then out of sight. Meanwhile, I slid my foot into the swing of his office door. Some locked automatically on a timer for security purposes, and given that it was already after hours, I didn’t want to risk that Mr. Worthington’s office was one of them. While Pam surely had a key, I did not.
Pushing the door wider, I slipped inside Mr. Worthington’s office, broke into a run and covered the twenty feet to his desk in a flash of heartbeats. There, in the middle of his desk were the quarterly reports alongside a much, much thicker binder that had to contain the raw data for the departments.
I scooped them both up in my arms. “Oof!” I exclaimed, trying not to stagger under the unexpected weight. This time, making my way back out of his office was not so much a sprint as a hurried walk. Opening the door, I flinched at the sound of the door’s latch clicking locked behind me. In the empty, quiet office, the sound was much louder than normal.
I tried the handle again and had my fears confirmed. His door was now locked. There would be no sneaking these reports back inside his office before he got back in to work. No second thoughts possible. If I was going to get in trouble for snooping, then I was going to at least do some snooping. I was going to find that discrepancy! My talents as a math whiz would be good for something, even if it wasn’t figuring out how to launch the next person into outer space. I could at least figure out what was off in these ledgers, even if it took me all night to do.
I liked numbers. They soothed me and I could use the distraction. Maybe I should have become an accountant, I mused.