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“Dominik, you look pale. Flap your lips and say something,” Eden demanded.
“Go get your purse,” I said.
“What?”
My eyes darted to her before I hunched over at my keyboard. “I just need to check this email. Get your purse and get ready to head out. Your cell phone’s on the seat of the couch over there.”
I waited until she walked away to gather her things before I even dared to open my inbox. She had been through enough in one evening, and whatever the hell this message was could wait. I toggled my mouse before clicking on the notification icon. I watched as my work email inbox buffered and loaded. The email popped up almost automatically, and it didn’t shock me one damn bit that the email address was restricted.
What did shock me, however, was the subject of the email.
“Tomorrow’s headline if you don’t heed my warning.”
“Ready when you are,” Eden said.
I nodded mindlessly. “Just a second.”
I opened the email, and the body of the message was blank. However, there was an attachment connected to the email that had a very interesting title. I knew I shouldn’t have opened it. For all I knew, a fucking virus was attached to the damn thing that would send my entire company into a tailspin of frenzy. It didn’t keep me from opening the file, though. My curiosity got the better of me, and I watched as a PDF document loaded with a made-and-ready article that stopped me dead in my tracks.
SELF-MADE BILLIONAIRE DOMINIK ‘THE DEVIL’ DRAKE DOING DIRTY WITH THE MAFIA.
“Dominik, your cell phone is lighting up on your desk,” Eden said.
I fumbled around and reached for the device as it vibrated in my hand. I looked down at who was calling, expecting to see another blocked or restricted number. But instead, I found that my accountant was calling.
I had never picked up a phone call so quickly in all my life.
“What is it? What’s happened?” I asked as I stood up.
I kept my eyes locked on that headline as my accountant spoke. “Uh, yes. I’m sorry to bother you so late, Mr. Drake.”
“Spit it out, Francis.”
“Yes. Right. It seems that you have a transfer coming in. I wanted to call because you didn’t alert me to any bank transfers that were supposed to be approved today.”
“How much is it for?”
“Ten million, sir.”
I reached for my mouse and scrolled through the article before I found it. The implicating line that almost buckled my knees right from beneath me.
“According to accounting records, Mr. Drake received a donation of ten million dollars from--”
I stopped reading and quickly closed the article out on my screen. “Deny it.”
“Sir?” Francis asked.
I practically hissed into the phone. “You heard me. Deny the transaction. In fact, deny all incoming transactions until further notice.”
“I can do that, sir, but why?”
I whipped around and stared back out the floor-to-ceiling window behind my desk. “Where is the transfer coming from?”
I heard him typing around on his keyboard. “A charity, sir.”
“Log the name of the charity and send me any information you can dig up on the transfer itself. Deny it and call me every single time a transfer or transaction of any sort takes place. I want to personally approve every single one of them. Understood?”
“It says right here in the notes of the transfer that it was discussed yesterday. Is there something I’m--”
