I knock on his door. When I get his permission, I open the door. I’m immediately annoyed with him. He’s still polished and pressed and looks like he did when he first came in, how does he do that? Seeing an eyebrow go up I shake the thought away. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ve been through all the binders, every page. I didn’t find anything. I’m leaving for the day. Goodnight.”

“Ms. Clark, you are not going anywhere. There is something there, and you are not leaving until you find it.”

Excuse me? “There isn’t anything, it’s been six hours of looking at every page until my eyes feel like they’re coming out of their sockets. If there were something, I would have found it. It’s late, I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m going home.” I turn and start walking. I don’t make it two feet.

“You walk out now, do not come back. I will take it as your resignation.”

I hate him, yeah, it’s hate now. “Did you not hear what I said? Is your ego so massive it plugged up your ears? There isn’t anything there.”

That damn eyebrow goes up. Oh god, what did I say? “My hearing is excellent. You said you are not up to doing your job and you quit. By all means, if I have heard differently feel free to clarify.”

Deep breath in. “There is nothing that connects Douglas Harden to Russell Roth or Roth Limited. I’ve looked at every trade, every dollar he’s spent, and there isn’t anything. For more than six hours, I studied everything, I didn’t rush it. If you’re so sure, then you find it.”

He smirks. “Ms. Clark in those six hours I have spent twenty-two million dollars and made sixty-nine million dollars. My time is better spent on other things, that is why I have you.”

I’m going to see if I can find something more painful than arsenic. “Give it to me.” That stupid damn eyebrow. “The damn file on Douglas Harden you got for his personal investigation.”

His eyes meet mine and swoosh, all the air goes out of me. I feel lightheaded at the heat hitting me. Then he blinks, and it’s gone, and I’m cold. He opens his top drawer and pulls out a file. With a smile void of humor, he pushes it toward me. “Good girl.”

I shiver at his words, hating him for how condescending it sounds, hating myself for the warmth that flows through me at pleasing him. I slam out of his office feeling good at the way the doorframe vibrates. My anger is gone almost immediately. I’m too tired to wrap my mind about what the hell just happened.