The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 187

***Agent Naomi Bennett***

By three in the morning, Ashcroft Industries no longer felt like a corporate headquarters.

It felt like a bunker.

The storm outside had only gotten worse as the night dragged on. Rain hammered relentlessly against the massive floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the executive floor while lightning occasionally illuminated the skyline in sharp flashes of white.

No thunder yet.

But you could see it coming.

I stood quietly inside the conference room with my tablet resting against one arm while looking through the glass walls toward the executive offices outside.

Every interview was finished. Every statement taken. Every timeline reviewed three separate times.

And somehow… Everything aligned. Perfectly. Too perfectly almost. No contradictions. No major inconsistencies. No accidental changes in wording people usually made when they lied.

Even the legal team’s statements matched each other nearly line for line.

The assistants on the executive floor all described the same events. Same timelines. Same behaviors. Same reactions.

Usually by this point in an investigation, somebody cracked somewhere.

A detail shifted. A timeline changed. But not here. Not tonight.

Which meant one of two things. Either they were all exceptionally good liars… Or they were telling the truth.

After fourteen years with the FBI, I knew which answer I believed.

My eyes drifted back toward the executive floor again.

Toward Violet Ashcroft sleeping curled up on the small office couch near the windows. Or at least trying to sleep.

Rowan’s suit jacket was folded carefully beneath her head as a pillow while her long cream-colored petty coat covered most of her body like a blanket.

The woman looked physically exhausted. One hand rested loosely beneath her cheek while her dark hair spilled messily across the couch cushion.

And despite the absolute disaster surrounding her life right now… She somehow looked peaceful sleeping beside her husband’s office.

Interesting.

Camille was sprawled out nearby on the opposite couch using Theo’s discarded suit jacket as a blanket while somehow using that massive purse of hers as a pillow.

Theo and Rowan stood quietly near the windows speaking in low voices while nursing what was probably their sixth coffee of the night.

Protective positioning. Neither man had strayed very far from the women once the interviews finished.

Especially Rowan. That one noticed every single movement Violet made even while speaking to his brother.

Hypervigilant. Exhausted. Terrified. And trying very hard not to show it.

Meanwhile Devin Hale was completely unconscious at Camille’s desk, slumped awkwardly across legal paperwork while snoring loud enough it occasionally echoed through the executive floor.

I stared at him for another second longer than necessary.

Strange man.

Most corporate attorneys irritated me within five minutes.

Too polished.

Too rehearsed.

Too detached.

But Devin Hale… He felt different somehow.

Still sharp. Still intelligent. Still absolutely a lawyer unfortunately. But more human than most. Protective too.

Every time Violet looked overwhelmed tonight, Devin shifted subtly closer like he’d already accepted these people as his responsibility.

Interesting dynamic.

The entire group fascinated me.

Found family usually did.

My gaze drifted back toward the storm outside.

Lightning flashed brightly again somewhere over downtown, illuminating the rain soaked skyline in harsh silver light.

Still no thunder.

But it was coming.

Just like the fallout from this investigation.

Because after tonight?

There was absolutely no scenario where Evelyn Hargrove walked away clean.

Not anymore.

Not after Avery’s statement.

Not after the database records.

Not after Calder.

Jesus Christ.

Calder alone was enough to bury half that department.

But Hargrove…

Hargrove was still the missing piece.

And I hated missing pieces.

Reluctantly, I finally pushed myself away from the conference table before opening the conference room door.

The executive floor immediately stirred slightly at the sound.

Rowan looked up first.

Of course he did.

Always alert.

Always watching.

I stepped fully onto the executive floor while adjusting my grip on the tablet under my arm. “You’re all free to go home.”

The relief that crossed Violet’s exhausted face almost made me feel guilty for keeping them there this long.

Theo immediately muttered, “Thank Christ.”

Camille groaned softly from the couch without opening her eyes. “If anybody wakes me up before noon tomorrow, I’m committing crimes.”

“Noted,” I replied dryly.

That earned the tiniest sleepy smile from her.

I looked toward the group again.

“I’ll either be back tomorrow with more questions,” I said calmly, “or an update on the situation.”

Rowan nodded once immediately. “Understood.”

I grabbed my briefcase from the conference room chair before heading toward the elevators.

The second the elevator doors shut behind me, the silence finally settled around me fully for the first time all night.

I was tired. Not physically. Mentally.

This case was ugly. The kind of ugly that crawled underneath your skin and stayed there.

The elevator slowly descended toward the parking garage while I pulled my phone from my blazer pocket.

One message already waited from my partner.

*Still stationary.*

I immediately texted back.

*Any movement?*

Three dots appeared almost instantly.

Then: *Still outside Hargrove’s townhouse downtown. Lights are on. No movement yet.*

Good. For now at least.

I typed another response quickly.

*Come pick me up. We’re heading back to the hotel and starting fresh tomorrow.*

His response came seconds later.

*Already on my way.*

Of course he was.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket just as the elevator doors opened into the nearly empty parking structure below.

Rain hammered violently against the concrete outside now. Thunder finally rolled somewhere in the distance.

And somehow… I had a feeling tomorrow was going to be worse.

I adjusted my grip on the briefcase while walking toward the black SUV waiting near the far exit.

My partner sat behind the wheel already watching the garage entrance carefully through the windshield.

Always alert. Always suspicious. Good traits in this line of work.

The second I climbed into the passenger seat, he glanced toward me briefly. “You look exhausted.”

“I interviewed an entire corporate floor for ten hours while uncovering citywide corruption and accidental pregnancy reveals.”

He blinked once slowly. “…What?”

“Long story.”

Not even remotely near the top ten craziest things from today somehow.

The SUV slowly pulled out into the storm.

My partner kept driving quietly for another minute before finally asking the question I already knew was coming.

“You believe them?”

I stared out the passenger window toward the blurred city lights.

Yes.

That was the problem.

“I believe Violet Ashcroft.”

That answer came too easily.

Too honestly.

Because that woman had looked me directly in the eyes tonight with genuine confusion every single time somebody described the extent of what happened to her.

No manipulation.

No performance.

Just exhaustion.

Trauma.

And somebody trying very hard not to completely fall apart.

My partner glanced toward me briefly again.

“And Rowan?”

Interesting question.

Because Rowan Ashcroft should’ve irritated me more than he actually did.

Overprotective.

Controlling.

Too rich.

Too observant.

And yet… Every single time Violet moved tonight, his attention followed automatically.

Not possessive exactly. Protective.

Like his brain physically tracked her wellbeing before anything else.

Interesting man.

“He’d burn the city down for her,” I admitted quietly.