POV Eric
Never in my fucking life had I taken a girl on an actual date.
If my mother could see me now—sitting across from someone who actually challenged me instead of just agreeing with everything I said—she’d have a goddamn stroke.
But it was nice. Freeing, even. Floris didn’t perform for me. Didn’t try to be what she thought I wanted. She just… existed. Sharp-tongued, unpredictable, completely herself.
I’d never said that about anyone before. Any other girl would’ve been a performance, a calculation. This felt real.
The feeling lasted exactly fourteen hours.
My phone buzzed at 6:47 AM with alerts that made my blood run cold. Another breach. Bigger this time. Someone had accessed our most classified European contracts.
“Fuck,” I muttered, scrolling through the security logs. “Fucking amateur hour.”
Except it wasn’t amateur. This was surgical precision.
I stared at the timestamp on the breach. 11:43 PM. Right in the middle of my dinner with Floris. Someone had been watching, waiting for the exact moment when my attention was elsewhere.
The coincidence felt like a slap in the face. One night—one fucking night—I let my guard down, and someone waltzed through our security like it was made of tissue paper.
I called Sia first, then Floris. Neither answered on the first ring, which only made my paranoia spike higher.
By the time they arrived, I'd already traced the attack vector and confirmed my worst suspicions.
“We have a problem,” I announced when Sia and Floris walked into my office an hour later.
“Another breach?” Floris asked, already moving toward the computer terminals.
“Worse. Someone accessed our Rotterdam client database. Every high-security contract we have in the Netherlands.”
Sia went pale. “How much did they take?”
“Everything. Client lists, security protocols, payment schedules.” I pulled up the breach analysis. “This isn’t random corporate espionage anymore. This is targeted warfare.”
“Any leads on who’s doing it?” Floris was already diving into the code.
“That’s where you two come in. I’m putting you undercover.”
They both looked up. “Undercover where?” Sia asked.
“TimeCorp’s Rotterdam office. There’s a consulting position open. You’ll go in as a team, get close to their security department, and find out what they know.”
“And do what exactly?” Floris’s fingers were flying across the keyboard.
“Find out if they’re the ones buying our secrets. If not, find out who it is.” I watched her work—methodical, brilliant, completely in her element. “Can you handle that?”
“Can I handle corporate espionage?” She looked up with that sharp smile. “Please. I infiltrated your system in twenty minutes.”
“Fair point.”
***
They were gone for three days. Three days of me pacing my office like a caged animal, checking security feeds, analyzing data patterns, trying not to think about Floris in some Rotterdam office building where I couldn’t see her.
When they finally returned, I was waiting in my office at 11 PM like some kind of obsessive stalker.
“Anything?” I asked the second they walked in.
“Nothing concrete,” Floris said, dropping into a chair. “TimeCorp’s security is tight, but not impossibly so. If they’re buying our secrets, they’re not storing them locally.”
“Could be a shell company,” Sia added. “Someone using TimeCorp as a front.”
“Or someone inside our own organization,” Floris said quietly.
The thought had occurred to me. The timing, the precision, the inside knowledge—it screamed internal job.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “But first, you have a new assignment.”
Floris looked up. “What kind of assignment?”
I pulled an envelope from my desk drawer. Expensive paper, embossed logo, the kind of invitation that cost more than most people’s rent.
“Annual networking event. Rotterdam. Tomorrow night.”
“What kind of networking event?”
“The kind where very wealthy, very powerful people discuss very sensitive business arrangements.”
She read the invitation, eyebrows rising. “This is a BDSM event.”
“It’s a business event with unconventional social protocols.”
“You mean it’s a sex party for rich psychopaths.”
“That’s reductive, but not entirely inaccurate.”
Floris stared at me. “And you want me to go to this because…?”
“Because our leak might be someone who attends these events. Because information gets shared in informal settings that never happens in boardrooms.” I reached into my desk and pulled out a familiar black box. “Because you’re my executive assistant, and this is part of your job.”
She opened the box. Inside was a collar—elegant, expensive, unmistakably what it was.
“Oh, hell no.” She pushed the box away. “I haven’t worn one of these in weeks. I thought we were past this.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We?”
She went quiet, realizing what she’d said. The assumption that we were some kind of team, some kind of partnership.
“Fine,” she said finally. “But I want hazard pay.”
“You’ll get combat pay if you find our leak.”
***
The event was held in a converted warehouse in Rotterdam’s harbor district. From the outside, it looked like any other corporate function—expensive cars, people in designer clothes, security checking invitations.
From the inside, it was something else entirely.
The main floor had been transformed into a social club that screamed money and taboo. Dimmed lighting, leather furniture, discrete alcoves where people could conduct private conversations.
A full bar staffed by servers in uniforms that left little to the imagination. And scattered throughout, equipment that made it very clear what kind of networking happened here.
“Jesus Christ,” Floris breathed beside me.
“Just another Tuesday night for the corporate elite,” I said, guiding her through the crowd.
She was wearing a black dress I’d selected—sophisticated, revealing just enough skin to fit in without crossing lines. The collar sat high on her throat, unmistakably marking her as accompanied.
“How often do you come to these things?” she asked.
“Often enough to know who’s here and why.”
“And why are we here?”
“Because someone in this room is buying our secrets. And tonight, we’re going to find out who.”
I was scanning the crowd, cataloging faces, noting who was talking to whom, when the announcement came over the sound system.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight’s entertainment will begin shortly. But first, we have a special guest joining us on stage.”
The lights dimmed further. A spotlight hit the small stage at the center of the room.
“Please welcome our newest member to the Rotterdam chapter—Miss Floris Middleton.”
I felt Floris freeze beside me. Felt her hand find my arm, grip tight enough to bruise.
“Eric,” she whispered. “What the fuck is this?”