CHAPTER 7

CHELSEA

The manager of the Armenian company. Why is he attacking me?

I saw him during the meeting. I wouldn't forget that face so easily. He and the CEO had a similar look on their faces. The type of look I couldn't trust.

"What the fuck?" I almost yell in obvious surprise at him.

"I just want to talk." He raises his hands in the air, palms facing me.

Talk? Reminds me of my first meeting with Ilya. What is it with these people and sneaking up on me to talk to me?

"What do you want?" My guard is still up and my eyes track his every movement.

"The contract is a facade," he speaks, almost too quickly.

Pfft. Could've seen this coming from a mile away.

"It's all fake. We wanna dupe him. Or at least try. You'll stop us."

Dante.

"Wait, what? I'll stop you?"

He nods.

"Well then, why are you telling me this? You do know I'll run and tell him, don't you? It's a horrible plan if you're telling me." I laugh.

"No, you won't."

"Because?"

"Because you need him to trust you. And we're here to make him trust you." he measures his words carefully, watching my every expression as the words land

"Wait, you're working for him, aren't you?" Ilya's boss. Whoever he is, this man—the entire Armenian company—could be working for him.

The man nods again.

"Well, I'll be damned. Your boss finally thinking with his brains and not his ass?"

"Don't talk about him like that."

"I can talk about him however I want." I finally relax, strolling toward the garage entrance, my bag hanging from my hand.

"So, you want me to make my boss realize that you're trying to defraud him and then make him trust me?" It's already obvious that's the plan. "So he'll listen to me more?"

"Yes."

"Well, it's going to take more than that, but it's a fair shot. What part of the contract is fake?"

"Everything, but the key to seeing it is the investment benefits."

I fucking knew it. It was too good to be true, almost as if they were baiting us and waiting for us to bite.

"Well, I've got a long night ahead. Thank you for the info. And please, I talk to only one informant. I don't need more. Or else you'll get us caught. Or worse. Killed."

"Your other guy is in some trouble."

I stop in my tracks, turning to face the manager. "Trouble?"

"With the higher-ups. If he doesn't come out alive, you may be on your own." He shakes his head and walks past me.

Ilya could be dead?

Fuck.

**************

My eyelids drop heavily and Dante blurs from my sight across the table.

Jerking up, I blink once and resume listening to the manager speak.

I had a long fucking night trying to find a reasonable loophole to make my stance against the Armenians believable, and I hadn't slept all night.

Now, my head feels as heavy as a rock and my eyelids even heavier. I am definitely on the verge of shutting down.

"Okay, that's all for the logistics. Any questions, sir?" the manager asks Dante, his shaking hands at his back betraying his fear of our boss.

Glancing from the manager to Dante... his gaze is fixed on me, his brows raised and his palms balled into fists on the table.

Did he catch me sleeping at work?

Oh fuck me.

"No, the plan is good." He says sternly, his gaze still fixed on me.

He definitely caught me dozing off. Oh man. My day just had to get worse.

"Send a copy today," he finishes with the manager and rises to his feet.

"Yes—yes, sir." The manager stammers and his secretary rushes to pick up the files on the table.

He leaves and I follow him out of the office, scuffling into the elevator. My skirt just makes everything worse. See, this is why I prefer pants.

I am breathing at the top of my chest, my heart almost jumping out of my throat. What do I say? I have to apologize. What if he finds it weird? What if he didn't even notice me sleeping? What if he's—

Fuck it.

"Sir—"

"Do you not want this job, Chelsea?" He interrupts me before I can spill whatever bullshit comes to mind.

"Uh, I... I do, sir." I dance on my heels, fisting my palms and bracing myself for whatever is to come.

"I find that hard to believe."

His voice is even calmer than before. Icy. Sending shivers down my spine.

"Um... I'm sorry." My head is downcast and as humble and apologetic as I can make myself seem.

"What for?"

Fuck. This is it. He wants me to lie. I should lie, but that'll be stupid. He definitely saw me sleeping.

"For dozing off during work hours."

"Oh," is all he says.

The elevator dings and he steps out, walking to his office, leaving me stupefied until the elevator's doors almost close again.

"Sir, um... I have something to tell you about the Armenians." I run after him, blocking his door from closing.

He merely returns to his laptop without sparing me a glance.

"The Armenian contract is slippery. I can't pinpoint what exactly it is, but in the terms, the benefits... they're too good to be true, and I did a deep dive on their company. It's not possible that they'd offer such benefits. They're going through—"

"Enough," he says quietly.

He doesn't scream or yell. He never does. The chill in his voice is enough to make me a corpse.

"If you didn't get the message, Chelsea, that was your first strike."

Fuck.

I have no clue what 'strike' means, but I'd bet my life that I don't want to find out.

"Sleeping during work? What do you take this company for? A joke?"

"Sir, I spent all night looking over the contract and the Armenians, and I lost track of time and... I'm sorry."

I never ramble like this. This man is something else. I've never actually felt this scared before.

"And? Don't I work all night? And the days I do, do you see me sleeping?" He doesn't sound angry. He sounds bored, at least, but his words bite like the cold.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Leave my office."

I nod and walk solemnly to the door.

"Another strike and you're fired," he adds without looking up from his laptop.

Folding my hands into fists, I gather whatever scraps of confidence still remain and speak.

"Even if you wanna fire me right here, right now, at least take a second look at the Armenians. I'll have a report sent to you."

If I don't survive this, I'll be fired and it'll all be for nothing.

Nothing.