The Next Afternoon

  Seven glanced at his phone. It was almost three. The meeting with the R&D department had dragged on longer than expected, but he had finally wrapped it up. Sliding his laptop into its sleek case, he left the conference room, exchanging pleasantries with the group as he exited.

  Back on the executive level, the sterile corridor echoed with polite greetings as he strode toward Sana’s office suite. Wendy spotted him and quickly stepped forward, intercepting him, nervous but determined.

  “VP Kavanagh, there’s a gentleman here from Cloche Enterprises waiting for you,” she said, her bravado faltering slightly as she met his piercing stare.

  Seven arched a brow. His eyes flitted to the waiting lounge, where a pudgy man in a tailored suit rose languidly from the sofa. Talon Cloche. His sharp features and calculated smirk betrayed none of the tension lurking beneath his polished exterior.

  Cloche approached him with an air of feigned humility. “VP Kavanagh, thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I took the liberty of calling your secretary, and she mentioned you had an opening at three.”

  Seven's jaw tightened; the subtle shift in his demeanor went unnoticed by Cloche but not by Wendy, who felt a chill settle over her. His frosty expression was directed at her, sharp as a scalpel, and for a moment, she felt her breath hitch, an involuntary reaction to the uncharacteristic intensity in his stare.

  “Please come in,” he finally said, his tone edged with steel.

  Cloche’s grin widened as he followed Seven into the office suite. Wendy trailed behind them. Upon entering the office, she offered, “VP Kavanagh, Mr. Cloche, would you care for any refreshments?”

  Before Cloche could respond, Seven shot her a death glare. “No. That will be all for now. Hold my calls for the rest of the day.”

  Wendy hesitated, then nodded and stepped back, her departure marked by the soft click of the door closing.

  Seven gestured for Cloche to take the seat across from his desk. As Cloche settled in, Seven placed his laptop on the desk and casually leaned back in his chair. Discreetly, his fingers brushed a button beneath the desk, activating the in-room surveillance system.

  Cloche began without preamble. “Dr. Kavanagh, I’ll start by apologizing for not waiting for you to contact me.”

  “No worries,” he replied, clipped. “But I have somewhere to be at half past three. Please get to the point.”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Sensing his unspoken irritation, Cloche’s smile tightened. “It’s been ten days since we last spoke. I’m curious if you’ve given my offer any further thought.”

  Seven’s fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fully committed to Data Dynamics. The compensation here is substantial, including shares. However, these aren’t as compelling as the exit clause, requiring a one-year gardening leave. That condition alone makes me an unlikely candidate.”

  Cloche’s composure didn’t falter, though a flicker of something darker crossed his face. He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “On the contrary, Dr. Kavanagh, I believe there’s still an opportunity for a win-win collaboration.”

  Seven’s brows furrowed. “I’m listening.”

  “Actually, staying in Data Dynamics is a good thing,” he mused cryptically.

  Wondering what the gameplay was, Seven nodded lightly, pretending to agree. “Yes, that’s why I saw no need to contact you.”

  Cloche immediately clarified, “No. No. Dr. Kavanagh, please let me finish.”

  “Then make your case,” Seven huffed, his impatience barely concealed.

  Cloche’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “What if I told you there’s a way for you to benefit from both Data Dynamics and C-Tech? A way for you to be indispensable to both companies.”

  Seven’s brows furrowed. “I’m not sure I follow.”

  Cloche steepled his fingers, cutting straight to the matter. “Nine months ago, Data Dynamics won a contract to develop tools for federal agencies to detect illicit funds in centralized crypto platforms, per Bank Secrecy Act requirements. You know the algorithms to flag suspicious transactions—thresholds, patterns, KYC failures. So you’d know how to bypass them; that makes you the ideal man for what I have in mind.”

  His smirk deepened, the shark lurking beneath the dark waters finally surfacing. “I recently acquired a casino, set to reopen in a few months. We’ll issue digital chips called Cloins, digital tokens for our patrons to gamble with. Cloins will be compliant with AML frameworks on the surface. But with your expertise, we can embed a hidden layer in the system, rerouting funds through untraceable sub-ledgers. Regulators perceive clean bets; we move millions undetected. C-Tech needs someone of your pedigree to build it.”

  The words hung in the air like a noxious cloud. Seven’s stomach churned, his mind racing to process the audacity of the proposal. It wasn’t just unethical. It was illegal.

  His penetrating stare was unwavering. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cloche, but I cannot entertain such a proposition.”

  Cloche’s smile faltered, replaced by a glint of malice. “Surely you recognize the potential here. This is a way to break free from regulations. Given your expertise and my resources, we can make a lot of money, untouched by scrutiny. A win-win, Dr. Kavanagh.”

  Seven’s gaze sharpened. “I understand it clearly. And that’s precisely why I’m declining. I have no intention of breaking the law.”

  Cloche’s mask of civility cracked. He leaned closer, his tone turning icy. “You may want to reconsider, Dr. Kavanagh. Refusing me would have… consequences.”

  Seven’s jaw clenched, his comeback cold as steel. “I won’t be intimidated.”

  Cloche’s smirk returned, more menacing than ever. “I’ll give you a week to think it over. But be warned: I don’t take rejection lightly. It would be unfortunate if something happened to some people in Data Dynamics or worse, to someone you care about,” he spat, his threat drenched with venom.

  “You’re crossing a line,” Seven warned, his voice laced with an icy intensity.

  Cloche’s grin widened, but he said nothing further. He stood and strode to the door, leaving Seven with his thoughts churning as the door shut behind him. The air in the room had never felt heavier, charged with the weight of Cloche’s intimidation.