If I got tangled up in anything untoward, I could lose the opportunity to practice as an accountant, which I’d studied and busted my butt working two jobs to pay for. I could lose everything I worked so hard to accomplish.
Worse, I could go to prison. Or harmed by looming thugs.
“I-I don’t know how Eugene usually does it, but I have to follow procedure.” I tried to keep my voice level, but it sounded thin and strained to my ears. I swallowed. “So, signatures, and then I can transfer the funds.”
Nobody moved.
“Please.”
Mr. Burke thrust his license at me and signed the form I set before him with trembling fingers.
“Thank you,” I said, overly brightly then looked at Expensive Suit. “And yours?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“It’s my account,” Mr. Burke blurted, his eyes bouncing between us like in a tennis match. “They’re all my accounts. Mr. Lazano’s signature isn’t necessary.”
Riiiiiiight. Fuck.
Well, there wasn’t much else I could do.
“Got it.” I nodded and recorded the information in my log then added my signature.
Okay, I had a paper trail. It might cover my ass.
Good job, me.
Except now I had evidence against them. Which…
Shit!
They probably weren’t going to just let me walk away with this, were they? The only proof of the interaction was in my log. My log. I was involved in this now because it wasn’t only proof of what they were doing but that I was here when they did it. Which meant I might not be leaving this penthouse.
I just royally shot myself in the foot.
“Okay, let’s get this transfer going.” I used my most chipper voice as cold sweat dripped down my sides beneath my blouse.
“How about now?” Mr. Lazano sounded anything but mollified.
I logged into the client’s banking portal—already bookmarked, already saved—and pulled up the transfer batch waiting in drafts.
All I had to do was approve it, which I did.
Now, with that done, I needed to get the fuck out of here.
I set the laptop on the coffee table and smiled brightly. “Okay, while that’s going through, I’m just going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back.” I jumped to my feet.
Nobody said anything. No man cared about a woman and what she did in the bathroom.
“Be right back!” I sing-songed, grabbing my purse and making a beeline for the door.
I left the laptop, the paperwork, my notary stamp, and log–all the evidence. They had what they wanted.
Hopefully, they’d let me walk out of here.
My heart pounded, and sweat trickled down my back. I opened the door and stepped out, then broke into a run.
The elevator was halfway down the long hall. I pulled up my tight skirt to sprint to it, trying my best in my stilettos. I pushed the call button. Then again.