“When you tell management, make sure it’s Mark you report to.”


    She res at me.


    “I just really feel like spending some time in his office this morning being reprimanded.”


    She narrows her eyes in contempt.


    “Or maybe he can tell me off in a cupboard.” I wink sarcastically.


    She res in fury and I smirk.


    “Maybe you coulde looking for us. It’s way more fun if you think you might get caught.”


    Her mouth nearly drops to the floor.


    “Have a nice day, Stephanie.”


    I breeze into the lift and give her a little wave.


    “Fucking bitch,” she whispers under her breath.


    My eyes nce  over  to  Mark’s  office  door  for  the  tenth  time  today.  It’s  11am  and  I  haven’t  seen  him


    properly, other than when he walked in this morning and refused to look at me. I need to address this


    whole mess urgently.


    “I’m just going to discuss this project with Mark,” I murmur to Travis.


    “Sure.”


    I tentatively knock on the door. “Knock, knock.”


    “Yes,” he calls.


    I open the door. “Have you got five minutes?” I ask.


    He nces up and then his eyes drop back to hisputer. “Not really.”


    He continues to type.


    My heart drops. His ego is hurt. It’s not like we had a great love affair going on or anything, but he is


    disappointed in me. Hell, I’m disappointed in me.


    I walk in and close the door behind me. “I just wanted to apologize for Friday night.”


    He keeps typing but doesn’t look up. “Okay.”


    “I didn’t mean to meet Star.”


    He keeps typing.


    “It just happened and I didn’t know how to tell you.”


    “That’s fine, Emerson.” He still doesn’t look up.


    I pause, I don’t know what to say next. “Can we remain friends?”


    “Sure.” He keeps typing.


    “Can you at least look at me?” I ask.


    He drags his eyes from theputer as if annoyed. “I’m very busy, Emerson.”


    I nod. “I know.” I hesitate. Maybe now is the time to tell him about my suspicions on the stolen art? It


    would break the ice, I suppose.


    I swallow the nervous lump in my throat. Hmm, after contemting this for weeks, maybe now is the


    time. It’s my duty to bring this art theft to someone’s attention and Mark is my first port of call. I know


    he’s not a thief-at least I hope he’s not.


    “I want to talk to you about the good news stories,” I murmur.


    “Take a seat.” He gestures to the chair with a sigh.


    I sit down dejected. This business between us is a mess. After an extended time, he looks up at me


    impatiently. “Yes, what is it?”


    My stomach drops.


    I ce my folder on his desk. “I’m not sure if you are the right person to discuss this with, but I trust


    you and I wanted toe to you first.”


    He looks at me without expression.


    Here goes. “It hase to my attention that twenty-two people who have bought art from us have had


    that same art stolen from their properties within three days of it being delivered.”


    He frowns. “What do you mean?”


    “People are having their artwork stolen… and I happen to think it’s someone from here.” I lean into


    the desk and look around. “An inside job,” I whisper.


    He frowns, picks up the folder and begins to read.


    “It’s too much of a coincidence and the pieces are all pictures of women which are being stolen.”


    He frowns as he flicks through the files with the names and relevant information inside them. I have


    been working on this for weeks. I know it’s not a coincidence. This is a calcted hit.


    “All of the robberies have been reported to police individually, but the police haven’t joined the dots


    and connected them back to us. It was only when I started contacting people for the good news stories that


    this information has be obvious to me.”


    He swings his chair from side to side deep in thought as he reads the reports.


    “I’m not sure what to do with it. I think we should call the police,” I whisper.Text property ? N?vel(D)ra/ma.Org.


    He  holds  his  hand  up  as  he  reads.  “Hold  up.  Don’t  jump  to  any  conclusions.  It  may  be  just  a


    coincidence,” he murmurs.


    My eyes widen. Oh no. It’s him. The art thief is Mark. “I want to call the police,” I say quietly.


    He nods and scratches his head in frustration. “Let me take it to management first. They will know


    what to do.”


    “Okay.” Shit, this is hectic.


    He looks up and gives me the first smile for the day. “Thank you. Good work.”


    I  smile  back  and  stand,  hesitating  as  his  eyes  hold  mine.  “I  hope  we  can  get  past  this  and  remain


    friends, Mark?”