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And knowing Sloane Harper, she'll make damn sure we remember it.
The rest of the week drags.
Sloane arrives on time every morning, handles her responsibilities with her usual efficiency, and disappears at five without so much as a backward glance.
No lingering in our offices. No smart remarks when Nate gets demanding. Jace hasn't managed to coax a genuine laugh out of her since Monday.
But the coffees still appear on our desks, and I keep finding her handwritten notes attached to my prototype reports.
She's putting distance between us without neglecting a single thing we've come to depend on her for.
I could respect that if I understood what the hell happened.
I know she wants us. I felt it when she was pressed against me. But I'd also felt her trembling, and the look on her face when she pulled away has been bothering me ever since.
Something happened to that woman long before she walked through SOLAÉ's doors.
And I'm going to find out what.
I pick up my phone and call Sergio. He answers on the second ring.
"Boss."
"Come up to my office."
"Everything good?"
"I need you to look into something."
Twenty minutes later, Sergio is sitting across from me, listening as I explain what little I know about the gap in Sloane's employment history.
Before joining SOLAÉ, Sergio spent more than a decade with the NYPD, eventually working investigations that involved financial crimes, digital evidence, and the occasional executive who believed enough money could make his problems disappear.
He's been running our corporate security division for six years, and I can count on one hand the people I'd trust more with sensitive information.
“Four years?” Sergio asks.
“That's how long she was out of the workforce. Before that, she spent five years in executive support. Then she disappeared from the employment records until she returned to work in luxury hospitality.”
“And she was employed there for how long?”
“Two years and nine months. She was laid off three months before joining us.”
Sergio considers that. “You think something happened during those four years?”
“I think there's a reason a woman with Sloane's qualifications walked away from her career for that long. Start there. Previous addresses, employment records, anything publicly available. Keep it discreet.”
His expression doesn't change, but I know him well enough to recognize the question he's choosing not to ask. "Does Blackwell know about this?"
"No. And let's keep it that way for now."
"Understood."
Sergio returns to my office two days later with a folder tucked beneath his arm.
"Found a few things, boss."
I gesture toward the chair across from my desk. "Let's hear it."
