Cynthia felt so nauseated by Father Benedict’s presence at lunch that she could barely eat. After Fred finished his meal, she asked Assistant Frank to set up a workspace for him before retreating to her own office.
She went back to combing through the company’s backend, flagging every suspicious contract she found, planning to report them to Dominic later.
She was, after all, working for Dominic now. If something this serious was happening in the company, it was her responsibility to bring it to his attention as soon as possible.
Benedict had been careful—maybe half a year wasn’t enough time for him to do more than a single deal—so most of the more recent contracts appeared clean.
Still, she spotted a few with questionable details.
Cynthia made a separate record of those contracts and projects, but just as she finished, a knock sounded at her door.
She slipped her notepad into the drawer.
“Come in,” she called.
Fred stepped in, carrying a takeout bag, a pleasant smile on his face.
“Ms. Tremaine, Mr. Holloway heard you skipped lunch, so he ordered you something. Please, have a bite.”
Cynthia stared at the food on her desk, momentarily taken aback. “Did you tell him?” she asked.
Fred nodded, lowering his voice. “I just mentioned it in passing when I was reporting to Mr. Holloway.”
Cynthia didn’t blame him—after all, Fred had been sent by Dominic himself.
Her department’s open workspace was still empty; eventually, all her team members would be transfers from Dominic’s people.
Given Benedict’s persistent meddling, it was only natural Dominic didn’t fully trust her yet. Cynthia understood.
“Got it. Thanks, Fred. You can get back to work.”
She picked up the takeout box and opened it. Inside were all her favorites.
For a moment, her eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t expected Dominic to know her tastes so well.
But then she reasoned that it was probably just a coincidence, and her mood settled.
Still, when your boss sends you a meal, you ought to say thank you.
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