The CEO’s Hamster

Nine

Chapter 9 — Too Close

Victoria

At two o’clock, the boardroom had never felt this hostile. I stood at the head of the long glass table, staring at twelve of my most senior executives.

Usually, silence followed me into every meeting. Today, it followed Lorenzo. He sat beside me, calm and composed, his dark suit immaculate, his expression unreadable. I could feel every suspicious glance directed at him. Eleven of the twelve looked worried. One looked prepared, which I noted, and said nothing about.

“Let’s get something clear,” I said. “Hayes International is not being acquired.”

One of the board members, Richard Hale, leaned forward. He had brought a folder, and inside it, a printout of the article, annotated in yellow highlighter. “Then why is your company entering a partnership with Valentieri Group?”

“Because it’s profitable.”

“And convenient?”

My eyes narrowed. “Are you questioning my judgment?”

Richard hesitated. “No, Ms. Hayes. I’m questioning the timing. And a partnership structured around an exclusivity clause on page nine, which would hand a foreign investor first refusal on the Denver contract.”

The room went very quiet.

Page nine. The article had not mentioned page nine. The article had not mentioned an exclusivity clause, or Denver, or first refusal on anything. I had written that clause myself, in my office, three nights ago, and the only people who had seen it were an assistant, two lawyers, and the man sitting beside me.

Lorenzo had noticed too. His voice was perfectly smooth. “Page nine is between Ms. Hayes and myself, Mr. Hale. I would be curious to know where you read it.”

Richard’s face did something small and quick, and his fingers tightened on the highlighter until the plastic creaked. “I assumed. It’s standard in deals of this size.”

“Of course,” Lorenzo said.

It was a lie. I knew it the way you know a counterfeit bill by touch. But I smiled, thinly, and let him have it. A man who thinks he has gotten away with something is a man who will do it again.

“The timing was mine,” Lorenzo continued. “I approached Victoria because I believe our companies complement each other. Nothing more.”

Richard gave a humorless smile. “Nothing more?”

Lorenzo’s gaze hardened. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

I almost smiled. Almost. I had never seen anyone silence Richard that quickly.

The meeting continued for another forty minutes. When it finally ended, the board filed out. Richard lingered at the door, thumbing his phone, until our eyes met. He left without a word. I remained behind. Lorenzo waited near the windows.

“My lawyers delivered Isabella a formal notice this morning,” he said. “No contact with you, your company, or mine.”

“Will she listen?”

“No. But now there’s a paper trail.”

My assistant had slipped a printout under my folder before the meeting. I turned it over now. An access log for the proposal. Four openings since it was drafted. Mine. My lawyers’. Lorenzo’s. And a fourth, from a terminal in the fifth-floor conference room, at 10:36 this morning, two minutes after I had slid it across the table.

I put the page face down. Lorenzo’s eyes went to it, then to me.

“What is it?”

“Nothing yet.”

He didn’t push. It occurred to me that we had both just done the same thing to each other, hold back a truth until we knew what it meant, and that neither of us seemed to find it comforting. I shook my head, and the corner of my mouth lifted. “You enjoyed that.”

He turned. “Watching your board try to intimidate me?”

“Yes.”

His lips curved. “A little.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet you invited me into your company.”

“That may have been a mistake.”

He stepped closer. “Do you regret it?”

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He noticed. His expression softened. “That’s what I thought.”

I looked away. “You’re becoming too comfortable.”

“With you?”

“With everything.”

He moved closer. “Perhaps I am.”

My heartbeat quickened. There was barely a foot between us now.

“Lorenzo… you’re standing too close.”

“I know.”

I should have moved. I didn’t. His eyes traveled over my face, lingering for a moment before returning to mine.

“I’ve waited a long time to stand this close to you again.”

I swallowed. “You barely knew me.”

“I knew enough.”

“What could a nine-year-old boy possibly know about me?”

He smiled. “That you hated carrots.”

I laughed softly. “That doesn’t count.”

“You stole cookies.”

“Because you kept taking them.”

“You made me promise not to forget you.”

My smile disappeared. “I did?”

“A week before I left, when the summer was nearly over. You held onto my sleeve and made me say it twice.”

I searched his face. “I don’t remember that.”

“I do.” His voice became gentle. “I said it twice, and I meant it both times.”

Something inside my chest tightened. “And I forgot you anyway.” I looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“You were a child.”

“So were you.”

“I promised myself I’d find you again.”

My eyes lifted. “You did.”

“Yes.”

For a moment, everything else disappeared. The company. The board. Daniel. Isabella. The threats. There was only the two of us.

Then he reached up and gently touched my cheek. My breath caught. I didn’t pull away. His thumb brushed lightly across my skin.

“You’re still the same girl,” he whispered.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m not.”

“Then let me get to know the woman you’ve become.”

My heart raced. I whispered, “And if you don’t like her?”

He smiled. “Impossible.”

I looked into his eyes. There was no arrogance there. No business strategy. Only sincerity. That frightened me more than anything else. And the cold little voice at the back of my mind, the one that had counted names on a list this morning, whispered that sincerity was exactly what a very good liar would look like.

I hated that voice. I did not silence it.

My phone suddenly rang. I stepped back and answered. “Hello?”

My assistant’s voice trembled. “Ms. Hayes, security just found something in your office.”

“What?”

“A photograph. I think you should see it yourself.”

I ended the call. Lorenzo was already watching me. “What happened?”

“Something was found in my office.”

We walked quickly toward the executive floor. Two security officers waited outside my office. One held a clear evidence bag. Inside was an old photograph.

My breath stopped. It was a picture of two children beneath a large tree. A little girl with cookie crumbs on her cheeks. A little boy beside her.

I slowly reached for the bag. On the back of the photograph were five handwritten words, block capitals, neat and deliberate, the hand of someone who had practiced not being recognized.

YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER.

Lorenzo’s face went pale. I looked at him. “Mine is in my apartment. You gave me the only one you had.”

“I know.”

“Then where did this one come from?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at the handwriting. “Either Isabella wants you to stop remembering, or someone else knows what happened that summer. I don’t know which frightens me more.”

He took out his phone and called Dario. “Lock down the building.”

I stared at him. “Lorenzo?”

His eyes remained fixed on the photograph. “Someone has been inside your office.”

The realization sent a chill through me. “But the security system—”

“Can be bypassed.”

I looked around my office. Everything suddenly felt unfamiliar. Lorenzo stepped in front of me. “Stay beside me.”

I wanted to argue. But then I noticed something else. A tiny red light beneath my desk, steady and small. Lorenzo saw it too. His expression changed instantly.

“Victoria…”

“What?”

“Don’t move.”

He pulled me behind him. The red light blinked once. Twice. Then went dark.

Lorenzo stared at the spot where it had been. His voice was barely a whisper. “Someone planted a camera in your office.”

Dario’s voice crackled faintly through Lorenzo’s phone. “Sir, the floor is secure. Nobody has come through the badge gates since eight.”

Lorenzo’s eyes never left the empty shadow. “Then it was already here,” he said quietly. “Waiting.”

I looked at the empty shadow beneath my desk. How long had it been watching me? I didn’t want to know the answer. I only knew that I would find out.

Somewhere in my own building, someone had been listening to me breathe. I pressed my hand against the cold edge of my desk and made myself a promise: whoever it was would hear every word of what came next.