Chapter 36 - The Midnight Audit
Later that night, long after the fire had burned down to a bed of glowing red embers, I woke to the soft, rhythmic sound of turning pages.
I turned my head on the pillow. The space beside me was empty.
Rising quietly, I slipped on a light robe and walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the master study. The door was cracked open, casting a narrow wedge of warm amber light across the hardwood floor.
I pushed the door open softly. Fay sat at the mahogany executive desk, wearing a silk robe, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she diligently reviewed a stack of documents.
For a second, a strange, phantom instinct flared in my chest—the old reflex of a syndicate boss wondering what emergency had arisen in the middle of the night.
“Is there a crisis in Newark, Chief Financial Officer?” I asked quietly, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe with a faint smile.
Fay jumped slightly, pushing her glasses up onto her head as she turned to look at me, a mixture of amusement and mild embarrassment crossing her features.
“Not Newark,” she confessed, gesturing to the papers spread out across the desk. “I’m reviewing the architectural blueprints and foundation budgets for the community marine center Caleb wants to sponsor in Annapolis. He asked me to double-check his cost projections before he submits them to the city council next Tuesday.”
I walked across the room, stopping behind her chair and placing my hands gently on her shoulders, massaging the slight tension from her neck.
“You retired from corporate logistics two years ago, Fay,” I murmured against her ear. “You aren't obligated to audit every philanthropic project in the tri-state area.”
“I’m not obligated,” she corrected softly, leaning back into my hands with a contented sigh. “I want to. There’s a distinct satisfaction in building something that helps people rather than protecting an empire from people.”
“Fair enough,” I conceded, kissing the top of her head. “Though if you stay up past midnight reviewing foundation budgets, I’m going to have to enforce mandatory sleeping hours for my favorite administrator.”
Fay laughed, closing the folder and standing up from the desk. She turned around, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close.
May you like
“Mandatory sleeping hours, huh?” she whispered, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “And what is the penalty for non-compliance, Mr. Moretti?”
“Severe,” I replied, scooping her up effortlessly into my arms and carrying her down the hall toward our bedroom as she laughed into the quiet night.
