His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection)

by Melanie Marchande

  I’m in a gray room, at a gray table, with gray chairs, surrounded by gray suits. The first hour was mostly eaten up by lawyers trying to bore each other to death - or possibly the rest of us, there’s no way to be sure. Bob certainly took his time listing off all of the character witnesses who’ve stepped forward for me. When he gets to Kara’s name, I watch Meg to see if she flinches, but she’s not betraying anything.

  Bob’s been pursuing the avenue of Mike Morgan as the potential leak in the truth of Natalie McBride’s identity. At this point, he’s told me he’s unsure if anything will come of it. Even if we can prove who’s responsible, which would require subpoenas from Risinger Industries, it’s going to take a long time. He’s suggested I might be able to counter-sue when I have my ducks in a row, but I just want all of this to be over.

  I want to believe Kara. I never knew her to be vindictive, and she seems sincere.

  Finally, it’s Meg’s turn to speak. Bob has coached her carefully, and she looks about as cool, calm, and collected as I can expect under the circumstances. But I feel sick. After that fight, I don’t even know what our future holds, let alone how convincingly she’ll be able to tell Mike Morgan’s lawyer that I’m a man of exceptional moral character.

  I hate that I’m putting her through this. I know it’s not really my fault, but it just feels like the pinnacle of all the indignities I’ve subjected her to, over the years.

  “Was Mr. Morgan ever inappropriate with you?” Mike Morgan’s lawyer asks Meg. The man himself is sitting at the end of the table, looking quietly smug.

  “Yes, on several occasions he made suggestive comments to me.” She takes a sip of water.

  “Did you report this behavior anyone?”

  “I did not.”

  “Why?”

  “I was trying to avoid unnecessary conflict,” she says, keeping her eye contact carefully trained on the lawyer. “At the time, I thought his behavior was annoying, but harmless.”

  “Were you aware of anyone else being harassed by him?”

  “Not directly.”

  “Can you expand on that?” he asks.

  “Mr. Morgan’s demeanor was ‘known’ in the workplace, so I assumed he’d made similar comments to others. But I wasn’t aware that he’d escalated it to physical harassment.”

  “When you say it was ‘known’ - known by whom?” He clicks his pen a few times. I don’t know how I can even notice it, over the sound of the court stenographer in the corner, but it’s somehow the most obnoxious sound I’ve ever heard.

  “Objection,” Bob cuts in. “The witness is obviously going to protect the confidentiality of any colleagues who haven’t already stepped forward.”

  “Understood,” says the other lawyer. “I’m not asking for details, just a general sense of who, in the workplace, knew of my client’s alleged behavior.”

  “It was scattered throughout several departments,” says Meg. “In the course of my job, I often communicated with people from all over the company. I would be impossible for me to narrow it down any further without naming names.”

  “Did you ever speak to anyone else who either stated, or directly implied, that they themselves had been a victim of my client’s alleged behavior?”

  “I did.”

  “Can you be certain that these experiences were personal to those parties, and not embellished hearsay?”

  “Objection,” says Bob, again. “Counsel is leading the witness.”

  “Can you be certain that these experiences were personal to those parties?” the lawyer tries again.

  “Yes.”

  “Why do you think Mr. Morgan never acted out this alleged physical harassment on you?”

  “Objection.” Bob looks tired of saying that word. “There is no possible way that she could know.”

  “I am trying to determine a key witness’s interpretation of my client’s character. Mrs. Risinger?”

  Meg glances at Bob, who gives her a look that I can’t quite read.

  Then, she speaks. “I believe that men like Mr. Morgan rely on a culture of silence. In particular, women are encouraged not to ‘make a fuss.’ I think he perceived that I might be the type to ‘make a fuss’ anyway. He might’ve also seen me as being too close to Mr. Risinger.”

  “In your opinion, was Mr. Morgan aware of your sexual relationship with Mr. Risinger?”

  For a moment, the room is way, way too quiet.

  “There was no sexual relationship at the time Mr. Morgan was let go,” says Meg, evenly.

  “Sorry, referring to the records…” He flips through the file in front of him. “This says you and Mr. Risinger share an intimate relationship dating back to the same time period as Mr. Morgan’s termination. You’re saying it began afterwards?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are the two events related in any way, Mrs. Risinger?”

  “Objection.” Bob looks like he wants to rest his head in his hands. “Irrelevant.”

  “I am trying to draw up an accurate timeline of events,” the lawyer says. “My client believes that the defendant’s relationship with Mrs. Risinger is wholly or partially fabricated, as you know. The relative timing of those two events is crucial, as well as any possible relationship between them.”

  Bob glances at Meg, and nods subtly.

  “Yes,” says Meg. “Just before Mr. Morgan’s dismissal, I walked in on a conversation between Mr. Risinger and one of Mr. Morgan’s victims. He had a strong reaction and protective instinct towards her, which made me see him in a different light than I had previously.”

  “Alleged victims,” the lawyer corrects her. “So it was unexpected to see him taking sexual harassment allegations seriously?”

  “Unexpected for any man in a position of power, yes. But in retrospect, I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

  “Why not?”

  “I always knew he had integrity. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have kept working for him.” She almost smiles.

  “Would you characterize your husband as an honest person, Mrs. Risinger?”

  For a moment, all I can hear is the a faint ringing in my ears.

  “Yes,” says Meg.

  “Mr. Morgan maintains that the relationship between you and Mr. Risinger was, for many years, an antagonistic one. Do you feel that’s a fair assessment?”

  “Playfully antagonistic, yes.”

  “Can you expand on that?” He looks like he just sucked on a lemon.

  “We worked closely together, and we’re both strong personalities. Of course, there are going to be conflicts in that situation. Sometimes we had genuine disagreements, other times we were just teasing each other.”

  “Would you characterize the teasing as flirtatious?”

  “At times, yes.” Meg’s cheeks are turning slightly pink.

  “Did any of this teasing ever cross a line?”

  “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

  “I simply want to determine if Mr. Risinger ever made you feel uncomfortable,” says the lawyer, smoothly.

  “If you’re asking me whether or not he harassed me, the answer is no.”

  “Did you ever feel that his comments crossed a line of what would be considered appropriate in a typical workplace?”

  “Well, I guess that would depend on the relationship between the parties in question.” She shrugs.

  “What was it about you and Mr. Risinger’s relationship that made otherwise inappropriate comments acceptable?”

  “We were…close,” she says, hesitantly. “Almost like friends. You can tease your friends in a way that you can’t tease a stranger. His comments weren’t sexual in nature, if that’s what you’re asking. But sometimes he did upset me. Sometimes he made me angry. Just like any other close relationship.”

  “Mrs. Risinger, are you aware of the high turnover rate in your position before you stepped in?”

  She clears her throat. “Yes.”

  “To what do you attribute that?”

  “Object
ion, my client has no personal knowledge to comment on that.” Bob is on the verge of tearing out his hair.

  “Did you ever find Mr. Risinger difficult to work for?” the other lawyer asks.

  She doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. He is very exacting and demanding.”

  “Did he ask you to do things that were outside of the normal scope of an administrative assistant’s duties?”

  “No.” She sits up straighter.

  “We have records indicating that your fingerprint scan was on file at his apartment complex, and you visited several times during the course of your employment there. Were these all business related visits?”

  “Yes,” she says, firmly.

  Bob cuts in. “We’d like to propose a short recess. Back in ten minutes?”

  The opposing counsel agrees, and all three of us retreat to the hallway for a strategy meeting.

  “They’re just looking for cracks,” Bob says, quietly. “Trying to drive a wedge between you. All of that stuff implying that he harassed you, or that you had a real relationship but lied about when it started - they just want something they can exploit. Weak points in your relationship. If you come across as cowed, if your answers sound coached, the judge might actually believe you’re lying to protect him. Any coldness or hostility or inconsistencies in your relationship history will go towards the narrative of the whole thing being faked to cover Mr. Risinger’s alleged indiscretions. The lack of security camera footage in your office,” here he nods in my direction, “means that we can’t definitively prove much of anything. Not even the nature of the relationship between you two, or when it started.”

  “I like my privacy,” I mutter.

  “No one’s judging you,” says Bob, calmly. “But it does present certain logistical difficulties.”

  “But the burden of proof is still on them,” I point out. “They have to convince the judge, not only that I harassed him, but that I did it in front of Meg. The footage in the hallway will show that he left before she did.”

  “That’s why they’re going to try and destroy her credibility as much as possible,” says Bob. “The whole case hinges on her being dishonest, and possibly afraid of you. Her conduct and her bearing in court will go along way for us. I think they’re starting to see that. I almost think we might convince them to drop the lawsuit, but we’d need something a lot more solid.”

  Meg’s head snaps up, suddenly. “Mr. Ellis, can I speak with my husband for a moment?”

  He nods, stepping away.

  “Meg…” I start, because we’ve hardly spoken in weeks except to fight, and I can’t just pretend like everything’s normal.

  She cuts me off. “We have the tape. In the pool.”

  I just stare at her for a few moments.

  It’s true, I suppose. The only tangible evidence of our relationship exists on security footage from the pool at Risinger Industries, where we first kissed. Touched each other. The fact that she’s willing to risk exposing it in court, just to save my ass, is…equal parts touching and troubling.

  “If that doesn’t prove we’re real, then nothing will,” she says, her eyes sparking with determination. “We’ll never have to produce it in court. We just have to prove that we’re willing. If we’re as balls-to-the-wall crazy as he is, he’ll have no choice but to back down.”

  As insane as this plan is, I can hardly stand to burst her bubble. “I…we can’t. Meg…”

  She shrugs. “Why not?”

  “Because it’s insane.” I grab her arm, as if I can somehow get through to her that way. “Seriously…Meg, don’t do this. I can’t let you.”

  I’m pleading, but her eyes are like steel. “It’s worth a shot,” she says. “Do you have any better ideas to shut down this kind of insanity? Think about it. This whole thing is about trying to embarrass you. Embarrass us. Think about what kind of statement it makes to prove that we just don’t give a fuck. So far he’s succeeded in upsetting you, which is exactly what he wants.”

  “We can’t,” I repeat. “I mean we literally can’t. The tape is gone.”

  “It’s gone?” Her eyes narrow. “How is it…gone?”

  “I asked them to delete it,” I tell her. “Well - demanded. Intimidated. Whatever. It’s gone. We don’t have it.”

  She shakes her head. “They keep redundant backups. It’s against policy to delete any security footage, and even if it wasn’t, I guarantee that particular one has an honored spot in the archives.”

  Every sensible objection is going to be helpless, in the face of her determination. “Are you trying to punish me?” I demand.

  “Oh, grow up,” she snaps. “I’m trying to fix this for you. I’m trying to clean up your mess. That’s what I’m good at, remember?”

  “It’s not my mess,” I hiss, mindful that Bob is just a few feet away, almost certainly eavesdropping on everything while he pretends to thumb through his papers. “Are you really going to hold it against me that I fired him?”

  She sighs, sharply. “Of course not. I’m just trying to deal with this, same as you are.”

  “Promise me you won’t say anything about the tape,” I beg her. “Not today. Please. I don’t want you to regret this.”

  Meg gives me a look. “Fine,” she says. “But you know, if I was that worried about preserving my dignity, I would’ve thought about that before I let you finger me on camera.”

  Bob clears his throat, loudly, and I briefly consider the merits of spontaneous human combustion.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  MEG

  I haven’t slept properly since my deposition. The tension in the house is unreal, with both of us circling each other cautiously, like wounded animals.

  I don’t know what inspired me to bring up that stupid tape. At the time, it felt like a flash of genius - the perfect bluff. He’s right, I don’t want it to come out in court, even though if it is just grainy footage from twenty feet away. It’s still something intimate, something important. But more than that, I want this to end. The stress of the lawsuit is tearing us apart, and I’m terrified of what’s going to happen. Desperation tinges every thought, every action. There’s a dark cloud hanging over us. Even when I manage to fall asleep, I dream in dark shadows and unsettling imagery that dissolves before morning, leaving behind only the feeling that something’s terribly wrong.

  I finally told my father what was happening, so he understands why I can’t think about much else. I knew it would worry him, which is why I’ve waited for so long. But he gives me my space, mostly resisting the urge to comment how much easier my life would be if I hadn’t married a man like Adrian. The last thing I need in my life right is more doubt.

  Adrian loves me like nobody else ever has. My stupid arrogance and insecurities shouldn’t be able to get in the way, but lately I’m realizing how much the “insignificant” things can disrupt…well, everything.

  All you need is love, huh?

  Bullshit.

  Of course, with us, nothing can ever be easy.

  Kara’s deposition is next. I don’t want to see her again, preferably ever, but the idea of her and Adrian having their secret little club is even more unbearable. So I go. As a key witness and as Adrian’s wife, I’m allowed. Expected, even. Adrian looks nervous on the way there, like he thinks there’s a chance I’m going to leap across the table and start ripping her hair out.

  This whole situation might be making me irrational, but I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face.

  We get to the lawyer’s offices early, but Kara is already there. Sitting primly on one of the chairs in the hallway, she looks thoughtful and subdued - not at all how I remember her.

  “Adrian,” she says softly, shaking his hand. Then, she turns to me.

  “Meg.” I go ahead and take her offered hand, because I’m determined to take the high road. “I’m so sorry about all this,” she says, “but I’m going to do everything I can to help.”

  I resist the urge to make a sharp comment about ho
w it’s the least she can do, because her overall attitude is taking a lot of the wind out of my sails. I just don’t know what to say to her. I don’t know what to do, period.

  “I need to go over something with Bob,” says Adrian, abruptly. “I’ll just be back in a minute, okay?”

  And with that, he leaves us alone.

  Fuck me, I don’t want to deal with this. I don’t want to be in the position to feel sorry for a woman who spent so long giving me the stink-eye because she clearly wanted Adrian all to herself, and resenting me. Resenting the fact that she wasn’t his type, even though she could probably have ninety-five percent of the male population worshipping at her feet, if she wanted to. Look, I’ve come into my own lately, but I’m under no delusions. She’s magazine-cover material, and I’m not. I never will be. I’ve got Adrian’s attention, and that’s all I could ever want or need. But I’ll never be like Kara.

  Shit, I’m not jealous, am I?

  I’ve got no reason to be. But it’s hard to keep convincing myself that I’m still angry about the outing of Natalie McBride, because Adrian no longer believes she was responsible. He might’ve been short-sighted in the way he handled some things, but he’s no idiot.

  “Meg,” she says, taking a deep breath as she faces me. “I know you’re not thrilled that I’m here, but…”

  “No, I appreciate it,” I cut her off, in as neutral a tone as I can. “We don’t have to get into the past.”

  She smiles, tightly. “Just let me say something. I was in a bad place, the last time we met. I know I was rude to you. I was very…protective of his career. I let myself get too attached.”

  I raise an eyebrow - I can’t help myself. “To his career, huh?”

  “Yes,” she says, firmly.

  For a minute, we just stand there and look at each other.

  And then I start laughing.

  I have no idea why. Maybe something in my brain just broke, or maybe I’m out of fucks to give. So I just laugh, and for a minute she just stares, like she’s trying to figure out if I’ve snapped like a Batman villain, or if it’s safe to let her guard down.