Damage Control (Page 36)
“In other words, you will continue to end up in his bed.”
“It’s not … yes.”
He studies me with hard bloodshot eyes. “You’re aware my sons are battling for control of the company.”
“I am.”
“Then I assume your loyalty is to Shane.”
“Yes,” I say. “It is.”
More of his intense scrutiny follows. “You’re dismissed, Ms. Stevens.”
My heart sinks. “I can still do my job. I can—”
“Which is why I said you’re dismissed. Go get to work.”
Apparently, it’s confirmed. I’m not fired. I’m off so easily, I’m stunned. “That’s all?” I ask. “Nothing else about me and Shane?”
“You didn’t lie about where your loyalty lies, and therefore, I know where you stand. That’s more than I can say for most sitting outside my door or in any chair in the building. Now get to work.” He reaches for his phone.
Confused by him letting me off without at least tormenting me a little bit, I stand and cross the office. “Close the door behind you,” he calls out as I exit to my work space, and once again, I do as commanded.
My phone in my desk vibrates, and I hurry forward, expecting Shane. Sitting down, I open the drawer and answer. “Hello.”
“Did you wreck the Bentley?”
I smile at Shane’s deep voice, amazed at how it manages to do funny things to my belly no matter how many times I hear it. “I did not wreck the Bentley but I did make Jessica extremely jealous.” I’m also relieved everything seems to be okay, when I had a bad feeling about that SUV that seemed to show things were not.
“See?” he says. “You had nothing to worry about. Did you love driving it as much as you knew you would?”
“More,” I admit, lowering my voice. “But I was worried about you. Who was that person?”
“No one I ever want you to know.” He changes the subject, which evidently isn’t meant for the phone. “How badly did my father jab you this morning?”
“Honestly? It was uneventful. I’m still employed.”
“Well the only surprising part to you still being employed is the uneventful part.” He does another change of topic. “I have a situation to handle, including a couple of meetings. I’m going to be gone most of the day. If you need to reach me, and I don’t answer, text me and I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“I can’t imagine anything urgent,” I say. “It’s not like I’m going to get that phone call I’ve been waiting on and even if I do, I’m pretty sure it will be uneventful as well.”
“Uneventful is not a bad thing.” He hesitates. “Emily.”
“Yes?”
“The apartment smells like you now.”
I blink in surprise and my belly flutters. “Is that good?”
“Distracting,” he says, clearly indicating he’s at the apartment. “But I like it. I’ll talk to you soon.”
He ends the call and my intercom buzzes. “Come back in here, Ms. Stevens.”
Okay. Maybe this is where uneventful turns eventful. I stand and walk into the office, to find him staring down at a document. “Door open is fine,” he says, without glancing up.
Hoping that’s a sign this is nothing big, I cross to his desk and stand in front of it. He doesn’t look up and I start to sit. “No need to get comfortable,” he says, finally giving me his attention, those gray eyes more bloodshot now than minutes before. “There’s a team of bankers coming in to meet me at four o’clock. I’ll need refreshments and I’ll e-mail you the presentation material I want put together and bound before they arrive. And it’s time for a board meeting. Set it up for next Wednesday. You’ll find the respective company heads in your Rolodex. Tell them it’s not optional and that you can attend to appropriate travel arrangements, if necessary. And get Harvey Fitzgerald on the phone.” He goes silent and we stare at each other until he glowers and says, “Now, Ms. Stevens.”
“Right. Yes. Of course.” I turn and rush for the door, about to exit when he says, “Ms. Stevens.”
I face him. “Your first phone call will be to Fitzgerald, not my son to spread my business. This arrangement only amuses me until it no longer amuses me. Understand?”
“Yes. Of course. Fitzgerald.”
I rotate and he says, “Shut the door.”
I shut the door and walk to my desk, not giving myself time to think of the implications of a board meeting, for fear I’ll end up booted, and be of no help to Shane in the future. Dragging the Rolodex to me, I find the contact I need for Brandon Senior and in two minutes have transferred his call to him. My mind turns to Shane and that black Escalade, the ominous feeling still weighing heavily. And what about the bankers and the board meeting? Something is going on, and I desperately want to talk to Shane about it all, but I dare not until we’re face-to-face. I mean, was that what Brandon Senior just implied? I could use my second phone, but can my brother hack it since I left him messages from it? What if he can, or did, track my call to Shane? My God. What is happening to my life?
Brandon Senior buzzes my desk. “My son is not in. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” I say, which is actually true.
“Find out. I need a contract for Fitzgerald he had to approve, and yes, Ms. Stevens, you can tell him I called a board meeting. That will most certainly get his attention.”