Chapter 9

At Mistress Ainsley’s words, I feigned ignorance. I wasn’t stupid, and I knew where she was going. "What are you talking about?"

"Alex. He's the prize here, isn’t he?” she stated. “Don't think you can just waltz in and take what's not yours."

I raised my head, meeting her gaze. "What makes you think I'm after Alex?"

Mistress Ainsley's smile was as sharp as a switchblade. "Oh, come on," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "It's written all over you."

My attention focusing back on the paperwork, I shook my head. "I'm not interested," I muttered.

Her laugh was brittle. "Oh really?" she cooed. "You're here only because it’s keeping you out of prison. And maybe you think to gain some extra perks on the side… Like a rich husband?"

Her words stung, but I ignored the jab. "Look, I'm just trying to do my time," I said, my voice even.

Leaning in, her eyes glinting, she hissed, “Sure you are."

At Mistress Ainsley’s tone, I felt a spark of annoyance flare up within me, but I smothered it down.

She studied me for a moment, her eyes sharp as she took me in. "Very well," she said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "But keep your greedy little fingers off Alex."

I rolled my eyes, focusing back on the paperwork as I muttered, "Not a problem."

After Mistress Ainsley had left the room, her words reverberated around in my head, but I pushed them away, refusing to let them distract me. I peered down at the numbers again, things becoming clearer: patterns began to emerge—inconsistencies in the expenses, discrepancies in the income. The club's financial health was indeed a mess, and it was clear that Alex had been trying to manage it on his own for far too long.

The sounds of the upstairs kitchen grew louder as the morning progressed, and the scent of brewing coffee began to waft down the stairs, making my mouth water. But despite that and the early hour, I was fully engaged in the task at hand.

I'd always been a mystery buff, and the thrill of uncovering this one had my mind working; I was surprised at how I was enjoying it.

After a few hours of meticulous work, I began to notice a pattern of unusually high expenses in the supply department.

As I gazed down at the numbers, I shook my head, blinking several times—it didn't take a financial whiz to see that something was off; way off. Wow, just...wow. Supplies for the club should not have cost anywhere close to what the numbers were revealing, not unless someone was embezzling or ordering gold-plated handcuffs.

At a knock on the door, I raised my head, my thoughts interrupted. It took several seconds for my eyes to focus, as one of the kitchen staff, a young man with a pierced eyebrow, came in through the doorway holding a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a plate of buttered toast. "Alex sent this for you," he murmured, setting it down on the desk. "Said you'd need sustenance for the battle ahead."

The smell of the toast made my stomach growl, and a smile curved up my lips at the gesture. "Tell Alex I said thank you," I murmured, giving him a grin, "and that I'll be up in a bit."

The young man nodded and disappeared back through the door, leaving me to the comforting aroma of breakfast and the damning evidence laid out before me.

As I took a sip of the hot coffee, its bitterness mingling with the sweetness of the sugar, I couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of purpose. This wasn't just about sorting numbers; it was about helping myself, by doing whatever I could to get through until my release.

The numbers before me whispered of deceit and greed, and I found myself growing more determined with each page I turned to unravel their secrets.

As I continued to dig through the paperwork, I knew that money had a way of making people do things they'd never dream of otherwise.

I heard the door creak open again, then Alex asked, "Find anything?"

I held up a page with a highlighted entry, toward him, nodding. "I think so," I stated, my voice filled with excitement. "Look at these supply costs. They're astronomical. There's no way you should have been spending this much on toys and cleaning supplies."

Alex's eyes narrowed as he took the page from my hand. His gaze scanned the numbers, and his face grew more tense with each line. "This doesn't make sense," he murmured, the fingers of his other hand gliding through his air and rumpling it.

I leaned back in the chair, watching him process the information. "I can look into it more," I offered. "See if I can find out who's been signing off on these orders."

Alex shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Thank you, but no. You’ve done enough," he said, his voice tight. "This is something I need to look into. This isn't just a simple mistake."

"I'd be discreet," I assured him.

Alex again shook his head, his gaze never leaving the paper in his hand. "I need to know who I can trust," he said, talking to himself, his voice low. "If there's someone in the club taking advantage..."

His words trailed off and I nodded. "I understand," I said. “If you let me help, I'll do everything I can to help you find out who's behind this."

Alex's eyes met mine before he murmured, "No, you just keep digging here. I'll do the rest of it." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me with the heavy silence and the ticking of the clock.

For a few seconds, I stared at the closed door, then taking a deep breath, I returned to the paperwork.

With each page, more of the financial situation was revealed. And the more I discovered, the more complex the situation seemed to grow. It was becoming increasingly clear that someone was playing a dangerous game, one that could potentially bring the whole club crashing down.