Page 10 of The Money Shot
I nodded, feeling my cheeks still burning, and stepped into the waiting elevator. As the doors began to close, I heard Vanessa’s voice float across the lobby.
“Jack is so hot. If only I was ten years younger,” she mused aloud.
Dimitri’s grunt followed, deep and gruff. “Make that twenty.”
The doors shut with a soft ding, cutting off the sound and leaving me shaking my head with a smile as I leaned against the elevator wall.
A minute later, the elevator doors slid open on my floor, and I stepped out, my shoes sinking into the plush carpet of our hallway. The warm glow of the overhead lights cast long shadows, but when I reached our apartment, I froze. The door was ajar. We never left the door unlocked, let alone open.
Heart thudding in my chest, I pushed it open; the hinges creaking slightly. The living room looked normal—our sleek, mid-century sofa angled just so, throw pillows askew. Muffled laughter drifted from down the hall, somewhere near Bradley’s room. I took a step inside; the floorboards creaking under my weight. The voices grew louder, tumbling into a fit of hysterics, and a moment later, a man and a woman burst out from the hallway, nearly colliding with me as they stumbled into the living room.
They froze: the man’s wide eyes flicked to the woman, who pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle another laugh. The man had a sharp jawline and slicked-back hair, his shirt half unbuttoned, and the woman’s smeared lipstick painted a streak down her chin.
“Jack.” Bradley’s voice cut through the silence as he appeared in the hallway, his eyes going wide before the blood drained from his face. He took a shallow breath, then forced a grin. “Didn’texpect you home so early,” he said with a nervous shrug. “I got out of work early, and ran into some friends—” He gestured at the pair, who exchanged awkward glances. “This is Paul, and that’s Melanie. We were just leaving.”
I stepped aside as the two strangers shuffled past me, Paul’s head down and Melanie’s heels clicking nervously. As Paul brushed by, I noticed a faint dusting of white on his upper lip. The color leapt out at me, stark against his tanned skin. My stomach tightened. Is that… cocaine?
Bradley followed them to the door, shooting me a strained smile over his shoulder. “See you in a bit,” he called, before the door shut behind them with a hollow thud.
The silence that followed felt suffocating. I stood there, staring at the closed door, trying to piece together what I’d just walked in on. What had Bradley gotten himself into—and how much did I really want to know?
Chapter Six
Liam
The hum of fluorescent lights and the clatter of keyboards filled the cavernous space of the SynergyCoin office. My cubicle was one of hundreds, indistinguishable from the next, each one a beige box of monotony. The glow of my monitor cast a blue tint over the clutter of coffee cups and half-scribbled notes scattered across my desk. I was deep into debugging a particularly frustrating section of code when my phone buzzed.
I pulled it from the top drawer; the screen lighting up with a message from Jack.
Got out early. Don’t wait for me at the station—I’m heading home now.
I felt a small pang of disappointment; I’d been looking forward to our brief, shared commute. Typing out a quick reply, I was about to hit send, but before I could, the double doors at the far end of the room swung open.
A group of men and women in dark suits strode in, their expressions sharp and unreadable. They moved with an air of authority that silenced the usual low hum of chatter. Every head in the room turned, eyes wide with curiosity and thinly veiledconcern. My stomach tightened instinctively. This wasn’t just an investor visit or some tech conference delegation.
I slipped my phone back into the drawer and shut it just as my office phone rang, shrill and insistent. The caller ID displayed Paulson—Senior Dev, and I stifled a groan before picking up.
“Liam here,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady while my eyes flicked back to the suits now talking to Marissa, our overly perky receptionist. She wore that same garish coral pink lipstick that made her teeth look perpetually stained.
“Hey, Liam,” Paulson’s gruff voice crackled over the line. “Status on the API integration for the new client module? It’s supposed to be ready for review by end of day.”
“It’s coming along,” I replied, tapping the pen in my hand against the desk. “Hit a few bugs in the payment gateway simulation, but I’ve isolated them. Should be sorted in a couple of hours.”
“Make sure it is,” he said, in a tone that made it clear there was no room for debate. “The last thing we need is a repeat of last month’s debacle.”
“Understood,” I said, and before I could add anything else, the line went dead.
I placed the receiver back on its cradle, feeling the tension in my shoulders as I watched Marissa gesture toward the hallway that led to Mr. Langston’s office. The suits followed, their expressions unreadable and eyes hidden behind reflective sunglasses. Not a single smile among them.
When they disappeared from sight and the murmurs in the office resumed, I exhaled and pushed myself away from the desk. The small breakroom on the floor had a fridge stocked with overpriced kombucha and bottled water. I could use a minute away from the screens—and the tension.
As I passed Marissa’s large circular desk, I hesitated. She was tapping her fingers nervously against the keys to her desktop computer.
“Hey, Marissa,” I said, leaning on the edge of her desk. “What’s with the Men in Black routine?”
She glanced up, her lips pressed together, smudging the coral even more. “I think they’re with the government,” she whispered, eyes darting over my shoulder as if an agent might suddenly reappear.
The government? I blinked, a chill running down my spine. What on earth would bring them here, to a crypto firm?