Chapter 6 INSIDE BLACKWELL
Kade Blackwell had received the report before Aurora Jett arrived for her first day.
He had asked Darius to have the private investigator verify everything on her application, and the report had come back clean. Her university records matched her application, her employment history checked out, her references were genuine, and the addresses and financial records provided nothing suspicious. There were no unexplained gaps or contradictory details that gave him reason to question the identity she had presented.
Aurora Jett appeared to be exactly who she claimed to be.
Kade closed the report and placed it beside his laptop, although his eyes remained on the photograph attached to the file for another moment before he finally pushed it aside. There was no reason to doubt her. He had simply developed a habit of checking people carefully, and after Roseline, he wasn't about to make the mistake of assuming that someone working closely beside him was fine simply because they said they were.
Roseline had never complained enough for him to understand how unhappy she had become. She had been efficient, dependable and always available, managing his schedule, handling impossible requests and staying late whenever a crisis demanded it. He had accepted her dedication because she had never given him a reason not to, until she had resigned almost without warning with fear visible in her eyes.
He still didn't know the whole story.
Perhaps he never would.
Kade looked down at the report again. He had no intention of making the same mistake with Aurora.
By the end of Aurora's first week, she had already begun to understand the rhythm of Blackwell Logistics.
She arrived early enough to see the executive floor before the day's noise began and stayed long enough to watch it empty again. Between those two points, she managed Kade's schedule, organized correspondence, prepared documents for meetings and learned which requests required his immediate attention and which could be handled without disturbing him.
She was careful not to appear too eager. Competence was useful, but excessive competence attracted attention, so she allowed herself the occasional ordinary adjustment, asked questions when an unfamiliar procedure genuinely required clarification and never behaved as though she already understood a system she had only just entered.
Inside, however, Aurora was studying everything.
She learned how employees accessed restricted areas, which corridors were monitored most closely and how the movement of people through the executive floor was controlled. She watched the building's routines without appearing to watch them, fitting the security patterns together with the same quiet patience she used when studying Kade's schedule.
That was the difference between surveillance and suspicion.
She also watched Kade.
His schedule was remarkably consistent. He arrived early, preferred his first meetings to begin promptly and expected documents to be ready before he requested them. He disliked unnecessary interruptions and rarely changed his routine without a reason. When he was dealing with something important, the rest of the world seemed to disappear behind his office door.
Aurora memorized the pattern.
Her job was camouflage.
Her real job was surveillance.
And so far, nobody seemed to notice.
The old records gave her the best excuse to look deeper.
During her first week, she noticed that Blackwell's digital archive was badly organized. Years of paper records had been scanned into the system, but the files had been placed under inconsistent categories, reference numbers had been entered incorrectly and correspondence belonging to one account had sometimes been stored under another.
Most employees had simply learned to work around the problem.
Aurora didn't like working around problems.
She liked understanding them.
One afternoon, she carried a file into Kade's office.
“The older archive needs reorganizing.”
Kade looked up from his screen.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that someone searching for a document from five years ago could spend half a day looking for it.”
He leaned back. “And you're volunteering to fix it?”
“If you approve it.”
“You already have enough work.”
“I can work on it when the day's priority tasks are finished.”
Kade studied her. “Why?”
“Because eventually someone will need one of those records urgently, and I'd rather find it in five minutes than spend half a day searching.”
He glanced at the file she had brought.
“You've looked through the archive already.”
“Some of it.”
“You've been here less than a week.”
“I noticed the problem.”
The faintest trace of amusement crossed his face.
“You really don't like inefficient systems.”
“No.”
He considered the request.
“Fine. You can reorganize it, but don't let it interfere with your primary responsibilities.”
“It won't.”
“And if you need additional access, ask.”
“Thank you.”
She turned toward the door.
“Aurora.”
She stopped.
“If you need to stay late to finish it, you have my permission.”
Her pulse gave a small, satisfied jump.
“Understood.”
She left his office.
The permission was more useful than he knew.
Three days later, Kade noticed her still working when most of the executive floor had emptied. The lights outside his office were dimmer than they had been during the day, and the usual movement of employees had disappeared. Aurora sat at her desk with several old files open on her screen, comparing scanned documents and correcting the archive references.
Kade stopped near his office door.
“You're still here.”
“I am working on the archive.”
“You've been doing that for two hours.”
“It needed more attention than I expected.”
Kade glanced toward the clock. It was nearly nine.
For a moment, another image came to him.
Roseline sitting at that same desk late at night, a cold cup of coffee beside her computer and an assuring smile whenever he asked whether everything was fine.
He had believed her.
Or perhaps he had simply accepted the answer because it was convenient.
Kade looked back at Aurora.
“Won't your boyfriend complain about you working late every evening?”
The question came out more casually than he felt.
Aurora's expression changed slightly.
“No boyfriend.”
Kade nodded. He should have left it there, but he found himself remembering Roseline again.
“You should have a life outside this building.”
Aurora's mouth curved.
“My job is my faithful lover for now.”
Kade stared at her for a second, and something almost resembling amusement touched his expression.
“That sounds like a dangerous relationship.”
“It pays better than most.”
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his expression became serious again.
“Just don't let it become the only one you have.”
Aurora studied him for a moment.
“I'll try.”
Kade nodded and returned to his office. He closed the door behind him, but the memory of Roseline followed.
He had no intention of watching another person work herself into exhaustion simply because he had failed to notice what was happening.
Aurora might be useful.
She might even become one of the best assistants he had ever hired.
But she was still a person.
He reminded himself of that as he returned to his desk.
The Westbridge problem came the following afternoon.
Aurora was reviewing Kade's schedule when she noticed two meetings occupying the same time slot. One was Kade's government contract briefing. The other was a meeting Arthur had arranged with Westbridge, an important client.
She checked the invitations again.
The conflict was real.
She called Arthur.
“You have a scheduling conflict.”
“What kind?”
“Westbridge overlaps with Mr. Blackwell's government contract briefing.”
There was a pause.
“How did that happen?”
“I don't know yet.”
“Can you fix it?”
“I'll handle it.”
She contacted Westbridge, explained that an urgent executive matter had arisen and proposed moving the meeting to a private conference room with Arthur attending on behalf of Blackwell Logistics. Then she adjusted the internal schedule so Arthur could attend without disrupting Kade's briefing.
By the time the Westbridge representatives arrived, everything was ready.
Arthur handled the meeting.
Kade never had to deal with the mistake.
Later that afternoon, Arthur appeared beside Aurora's desk.
“You saved me.”
She looked up. “From what?”
“From looking completely incompetent in front of an important client.”
“You weren't the one who created the scheduling conflict.”
“My name was on the meeting.”
“And the meeting went well.”
“Because you fixed it.”
Aurora returned her attention to her screen.
“It was part of my job.”
Arthur studied her for a moment before reaching into his jacket and placing a small black box on her desk.
“You did more than your job.”
Aurora opened it.
A silver pen rested inside the velvet lining.
She looked at him. “You didn't have to do this.”
“I know.”
She lifted the pen and examined it. It was elegant without being ostentatious, something useful rather than extravagant.
“Thank you.”
Arthur's expression softened.
“I could have made a very bad impression on an important client. You fixed the problem without making a spectacle of the mistake.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not everyone knows how to fix them.”
There was no teasing in his voice this time.
Aurora looked at him more carefully. Arthur was certainly relaxed, charming and fond of attention, but she was beginning to suspect that the careless image was only part of him. He understood business, he understood consequences, and he had been genuinely grateful.
Arthur straightened.
“Since I've shown my gratitude properly, perhaps you could have lunch with me.”
Aurora smiled.
“Thank you, but I'll pass.”
“Why?”
“I have work to finish.”
He laughed.
“You reject me very politely.”
“It's a useful skill.”
“I'll remember that.”
He walked away.
Aurora looked down at the silver pen before placing it beside her keyboard.
Across the floor, Kade had noticed the exchange.
His eyes lingered briefly on the pen before he returned to his work.
Arthur could talk to whoever he wanted. Aurora could accept whatever harmless gift she pleased.
It had nothing to do with him.
He told himself that once.
Then he looked toward the glass wall again.
Aurora was already working.
He returned his attention to his screen.
By the end of the second week, the archive had become Aurora's private territory.
It was the perfect arrangement. Everyone believed she was simply using her spare time to improve an inefficient system. Kade had approved it. Her late nights were legitimate, her access to old records was legitimate, and every evening, after the executive floor emptied, she could search without attracting the attention that a sudden request for confidential information might have caused.
She worked carefully.
She didn't search for Meridian Protocol directly.
That would be too obvious.
Instead, she examined older contracts, supplier agreements, financial correspondence and internal references, looking for names or transactions that might connect to the mysterious project Helen wanted.
Several nights passed without anything useful.
Then, shortly after nine o'clock, a document caught her attention.
It was an old financial record from one of Blackwell's former divisions. The document appeared ordinary, containing supplier information, payment references and internal correspondence. Aurora nearly closed it.
Then she noticed a cross-reference at the bottom.
She leaned closer.
MERIDIAN PROTOCOL — INTERNAL REFERENCE 7B.
Her fingers stopped moving.
There it was.
She opened the reference.
The system brought up another record.
MERIDIAN PROTOCOL
Her pulse quickened.
She clicked.
The screen changed.
RESTRICTED ACCESS.
She stared at it.
That wasn't unusual. A company like Blackwell Logistics would naturally protect sensitive information.
She tried the access credentials available to Aurora.
The system rejected them.
She checked the classification.
EXECUTIVE LEVEL — PRIVATE AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED.
Aurora leaned back.
She tried another legitimate route.
Denied.
She opened the access requirements.
Senior executive authorization.
Private credentials.
Direct approval from the CEO.
Her eyes moved slowly across the screen, then toward the glass wall of Kade's office.
The building was almost silent now.
Kade was still inside.
And suddenly, the problem was no longer simply finding Meridian.
She had found it.
She knew where it was.
She knew what protected it.
And she knew whose authorization stood between her and the file.
Kade Blackwell.
Aurora looked back at the screen.
For two weeks, she had been learning his schedule, earning his trust and making herself useful.
Now she understood something Helen had never told her.
To steal Meridian, she would have to get much closer to Kade than she had planned.
