SIX FIGURES
1374 Words
ETHAN
The rain took over the night and lingered into the morning, though now it’s only drizzling. I watch from my window, the streaked glass distorting the streetlights into long, blurred lines. Then she appears. I see her hurry out of her house, coat clinging to her frame, dark strands of hair plastered to her forehead as the wind fights her.
Emma
I don’t move. I don’t blink. I just watch as she fumbles slightly with her keys before getting into her car. I notice things I shouldn’t—the slump in her shoulders, the way she exhales before starting the engine, like she’s bracing herself for the day. She starts the engine, and pulls out onto the street.
Why does she keep coming to mind?
Women don’t usually linger in my thoughts like this. They never have. Not the ones before her. Not even Elena. Especially not Elena. And yet here I am, standing still, staring at an empty driveway like I’ve lost something.
There’s something about her.
Something quiet. Something worn. Something real. This woman doesn’t seem like all the other women I’ve known. She doesn’t demand attention. She doesn’t even know she has it.
And that somehow makes it worse.
I force myself away from the window and walk out of the wine cellar, annoyed at the dull ache settling behind my eyes. I’m already irritated with myself, I don’t have time for distractions. I need to focus. I have a company to run. A day to get through.
But first—I need answers.
I get dressed quickly and leave the house before I can think too much about it.
The drive to the office is uneventful. Traffic. Rain. The usual. Still, my mind betrays me, drifting back to her face. The way she looked last night. Protective. Furious. Exhausted. God, she looked exhausted.
I step into the building and walk past reception without breaking stride. A few greetings follow me. I acknowledge none of them. The elevator doors slide shut, sealing me into silence.
Focus, Ethan.
Marcus is already waiting in my office when I arrive, tablet in hand, perfectly put together as always. He looks up when I enter.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I reply, loosening my tie and shrugging out of my jacket. I sit behind my desk as he begins his rundown.
“HR submitted a revised proposal this morning,” Marcus says. “They’re requesting approval for an internal restructuring—”
I nod. I listen. Or at least I try to.
My eyes drift to the window. To the street below. To nothing and everything all at once.
Emma.
What is wrong with me?
Marcus continues speaking, words flowing smoothly, but they start to blur. Restructuring. Budgets. Staffing. I should care. Normally, I do care. Today, my mind refuses to cooperate.
“…Mr. Hayes?”
I blink.
“Yes?” I say quickly.
Marcus frowns slightly. “You’ve been staring out the window for a full minute.”
I straighten in my chair. “Sorry. Go on.”
He studies me for a second, then continues. Another minute passes. Maybe two. And then—
“Ethan.”
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “What?”
He sets the tablet down. “You’re not here. What’s going on?”
I hesitate. I don’t know why. I never hesitate with Marcus. He’s seen me at my worst, my sharpest, my most ruthless. And yet, this feels… different.
“It’s nothing,” I say automatically.
A lie.
I exhale slowly. “I need information.”
Marcus raises an eyebrow. “On?”
The words leave my mouth before I can rethink them. “Rico. And his associates. He used to work for us, I need to know what dirty business he's into now.”
Marcus straightens immediately. “That’s… specific.”
“Specific enough to do as I say,” I reply.
He nods, already processing. “And why are we interested in Rico?”
I pause.
I tell myself I don’t want to pry into my new neighbor’s life. I tell myself this is none of my business. I tell myself I’m doing this out of curiosity. Out of caution.
Deceiving thoughts. All of them.
“There’s someone he’s involved with,” I say carefully. I pause, trying to remember the name I heard her call him last night, “A guy named Josh. I want to know how deep he is.”
Marcus watches me closely. He knows me too well. “Personal?”
I hesitate again. Just for a beat.
“Yes,” I admit.
That seems to satisfy him. He nods once. “I’ll have a full report by this afternoon.”
”Good.”
He leaves, and the office falls quiet again. I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
I shouldn’t care. I don’t even know her. And yet she’s already under my skin, unsettling me in ways I don’t like and can’t explain.
I close my eyes briefly.
Emma.
I don’t know what I’m getting myself into.
But I know one thing—I’m already in it.
Marcus doesn’t return until after midday.
I barely notice the time passing. Lunch comes and goes, a glass of water sweating on the corner of my desk while emails stack up unanswered. I sign what needs signing. I dismiss what can wait. All of it mechanical. Automatic.
My phone buzzes once. Then again.
I look up when Marcus steps back into my office, his expression different now. Sharper. More cautious.
He closes the door behind him.
That alone tells me everything.
“Sit,” I say unnecessarily, gesturing to the chair across from me.
He doesn’t. He stays standing, tablet held firmly in both hands.
“It’s worse than I thought,” he says.
My jaw tightens. “Talk.”
“Rico is not just running low-level operations anymore. He’s moved into private lending. Off-the-books loans. High interest. No contracts.”
I lean back slowly. That tracks. Rico always liked leverage more than legality.
“And the Josh guy?” I ask.
Marcus exhales. “Josh is deep. He borrowed to cover an initial loss. Then borrowed again to keep up with payments. The debt snowballed.”
“How much?” I ask.
Marcus hesitates.
“That bad?” I press.
“Six figures,” he says finally. “And I fear it’s growing.”
I curse under my breath.
Marcus scrolls. “Rico’s crew has been circling him hard the past month. Missed deadlines. Threats. Property damage. There’s a possibility they’ll be going for his family soon”
I glance up to look at him again.
“I also found something else interesting. His late grandmother’s house, is the house just across the street from yours. How coincidental” He shoots me a glare.
“Yes Marcus, very coincidental. Thank you for the information”
He almost scoffs, “you’re welcome” and walks out of my office immediately.
Knowing the type of man Rico is, Josh better find a way to settle his problems. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.
Six figures.
The number was absurd, devastating, and entirely consistent with Rico’s methodology. He didn’t want the money; he wanted the property, or the lifetime of leverage, or the satisfaction of breaking someone. And Josh – who seems impulsive – had walked right into the trap.
I finally reached for the keyboard, forcing my attention back to the screens. D’Angelo files. Acquisition contracts. Numbers. I needed to focus on work that mattered, work I understood.
I spent the rest of the afternoon in a sharp, cold rhythm, signing off on projects and dictating emails. Work day ends, and I slip into the leather seat of my sleek car, allowing my driver take me home today.
- Writer
