Chapter 6: The Folder

The elevator opened on the lobby, and Sienna stepped out first.

She held the door open with one hand.

"There's a coffee place on the corner," she said. "Let me buy you a decent one. I owe you."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you an apology about Monday. And last week. And the way I asked about your days off."

She walked to the corner café, and after a moment I followed her, because of the folder.

We took a table by the window.

She set a manila folder on it, face down, and slid it across to me.

"There's no trade," she said. "I said that upstairs because I was nervous."

"You were nervous."

"I've been in this company four months, Tess, and I've never once been in the room when you weren't the smartest person in it."

I didn't touch the folder.

"I wrote that post-it," Sienna said. "Keaton's lawyer asked me to. I should have said no."

"Then why did you write it?"

"Because he asked me nicely." She turned her cup. "He asks everyone nicely. You know that better than I do."

I did.

That was the problem with Keaton. He'd never once raised his voice at me in nineteen years.

"Why were you at June's before I got there?" I said.

Sienna looked up.

"Keaton asked me to go. He couldn't. He told me you'd been using her."

"Using her."

"For the shares. For the grant." She spread her hands. "He said you'd made yourself indispensable to a sick woman so nobody could ever touch you."

I breathed in slowly.

"What did you think when you saw us in that room?" I said.