It’s ludicrous. And what is it he could even hope to get out of all this?
“What do you mean, negotiate?” I ask through clenched teeth.
“Well, you see, I’m arranging a last-minute meeting this morning for some friends and potential investors who happen to be in town. It’s for the same project that you just proposed to Mr. Vale. Considering it’s he, I assume, who’s offering you the job that has you so quick to render your notice to me,” Gentry’s smile widens at the stiffening of my posture, “we know how good you are at giving a presentation. Plus, a pretty face never goes awry when negotiating deals.”
His posture is too genial, too easy going. If the preposterous theory that he’s been maneuvering toward this for months is true, then what he’s proposing seems too easy and off the cuff. Which just goes to show I was being too paranoid about it. This is only about Gentry being an asshole, wanting to take his pound of flesh out of me for quitting and going to work for Jackson. The question is, will a pound of flesh be enough?
“And then what? I do the presentation at this last meeting and you just let me out of an eight hundred-and-fifty thousand dollar fine?” I scoff.
Gentry shrugs. “I’m not an idiot. That’s money I’ll never see out of you. You don’t own a house or even a car—it will just bankrupt you and I won’t see much more than twenty thousand, if that. No,” he shakes his head. “Like I said, I can be magnanimous. All I ask of you is to come, give the presentation and provide a certain degree of hospitality to our honored guests.”
My entire body goes on alert. “What does hospitality mean?”
For the first time since I came in, I see a glint in Gentry’s eyes that makes me suspect I’m seeing the real man. He always was a shark and for a moment he doesn’t bother to veil the predator within. It’s gone the next second, but it’s enough insight to send chills from the top of my spine down to the tips of my toes.
“It’s an hour of your time in exchange for getting to walk away scot free, no strings tying you to me or this place.” He raises his eyebrows as if he’s giving me an obvious gift and I’m a fool for not jumping at the opportunity.
Christ. If he’s trying to make it sound so casual, I’m sure it’s the opposite. Shit. Fuck. Shit, fuck. What do I do? Eight-hundred-and-fifty thousand dollars. Almost a million. Just thinking about that number gives me hives. Obviously, he’s right, I’d never be able to pay even a tiny portion of it. The alternative? Not being able to work in the field in any capacity for five years?
I turn away from Gentry and my hand goes to my forehead. I swallow hard. Christ. How did I get myself into this position?
I ball my fists and I want to scream at myself. Oh yeah, Callie, you were going to be so different, a voice inside my head mocks. Make a stand. Be strong for a change. And the first time I try to take charge of my life, here’s this fucker grinding me back down into the dust.
My shoulders slump. Because he’s going to win.
Once again, I’m in an impossible situation. So much worse than when I stepped in this office two months ago. Now I don’t even have Charlie. I made myself a pathetic whore and for what? So I could debase myself in front of yet another man, fall into the role of weak submissive, let myself be shit all over emotionally, and still lose what was most important to me in life?
I can feel Gentry’s stare on the top of my head and I can just imagine how triumphant he feels. It’s what he’s always gotten off on—making people cower in his presence.
God, was that what he saw in me at the interview? That I was a girl who’d be so easy to control? That I could be easily bent? Easily broken.
Gentry likes to break people. Jackson’s words echo in my head.
Is that why Gentry hired me, out of all the people who interviewed for the job?
Even the idea pisses me the fuck off.
I’m so much stronger than any of them think. I might just be realizing my own strength now, but fuck that—I didn’t survive all I have, support and raise my baby and be fighting to get him back because I was weak-willed.
So fuck Bryce fucking Gentry. I raise my head, widen my stance, and stiffen my back.
I knew there would be consequences when I resigned today. Gentry’s a twisted fuck. Whatever his agenda, be it some long-thought-out thing or a spur-of-the-moment fuckery he’s come up with, I’ll handle it because I have to. Because I’m embracing my inner queen bitch who can handle whatever life throws at me.
I glare at Gentry. Fuck him and every other man who’s kept me down all my life. “How many people will be at this business meeting where I’m to make the presentation?”
He leans back in his chair with his fingers steepled under his chin. “Nine.”
I let out the breath I was holding, but I try not to show anything on my face. I don’t want to give a single inch to the bastard in front of me. No reaction, no response. Internally, though, I’m preparing. Nine people. Okay. Gentry can’t do anything too crazy to me with nine respected businesspeople in the room.
I turn my iciest glare on him. “Nothing happens in that room that I don’t okay beforehand?”
Gentry holds up his hands. “Of course. This is your decision. Just remember what’s at stake if you try to pull out of the deal at the last minute.”
I fill my lungs with another deep breath. “All right.”
Gentry starts to stand, but I hold out a hand. “Not so fast. I want it in writing that after the conference today, anything I’ve previously signed is null and void.”
He bows his head with a nod of what looks like respect—though it could just be another form of manipulation, it’s impossible to tell with him. “Well played, Miss Cruise. I’ll send it to your printer within the hour. The meeting is at ten a.m. in Conference Room B. Do be prompt.”
I head toward my office for what I hope is the last time. Whatever Gentry throws at me, I’ll be prepared. And I vow, this is the last day I’ll let myself be in a position like this ever again.
CHAPTER 18
I’ve never been in this conference room. It’s much smaller than Conference Room A where the project managers convene every Tuesday for project updates. Instead of being a more industrial office space like the other conference room, it’s a sleek modern design.
The central table surface creates the top of what’s essentially a large ornate Z. The ten chairs set all around the table look more comfortable than the normal fair as well, with white overstuffed cushions held together by chrome supports also shaped like Zs. It’s always about presentation with Gentry.
I’ve arrived twenty minutes early. No way I’m going to be accused of tardiness today. I glance nervously around the room. Right. Time to prep. I might have only been at this job a little more than a couple months, but it took just one false start at a conference to learn Gentry’s expectations of his personal assistant—not that he gave me a checklist ahead of time.
I’ve made my own list since then: Get a piping hot travel carafe of high-end brewed coffee from the coffeeshop on the ground floor of the building (God forbid I try to brew it myself, lesson learned from my second conference attempt). Second, get a platter of finger pastries delivered from the boutique pastry shop that Gentry Tech has on contract—not from the coffeeshop downstairs, no matter that it might be much more convenient on short notice. Third, arrange notepads and pens at every station just in case, even though everyone uses laptops now. Every once in a while, there could be an older holdout who still expects pen and paper as a matter of course.
I look around me as I get started. God, this conference room better be as equipped as the other one, or I’m gonna have to haul ass down to Conference Room A to get the nice coffee set. But when I open up the small cabinet in the back of the room, I let out a sigh of relief. This coffee set is even fancier than the one I’m used to using. Not that it’s silver or anything. No, of course not. Nothing that reeks of the antique or traditional for Gentry Tech. The coffee set is a modern slate matte black.
I p
our the coffee from the cardboard travel carafe into the nice serving one and set up the coffee cups. Then I arrange it all nicely on a tray at the back counter. I put everything else together and am just filling up the ice water pitcher when I hear the door open behind me.
I spill a few drops of water as I turn off the filtered tap at the back sink. It takes all my self-control not to swear a blue streak.
I swipe at the small spill with my hand as I swivel to see Gentry holding open the door for several distinguished looking older businessmen. I wipe my wet hand on the side of my skirt and plaster on a smile, taking several steps away from the counter. Shit. Do I go and greet them or wait here like a nice little submissive secretary?
I hesitate midstep and then just pause where I am, halfway between the counter and the doorway. I drop my hand by my side, but then that seems dumb so I put them behind my back. Christ, what am I, five years old? I drop them back by my sides.
Meanwhile, Gentry’s completely ignoring me and welcoming more and more men into the room. I silently count. Five, six, seven. Okay, almost all of them. Breathe, Cals, breathe. My chest is certainly moving up and down. All right. That’s good. Except, shit, now I’m getting light-headed. Fuck. Breathe slower.
I try to take slower, deeper breaths. I can do this. I’m a professional.
A professional what, exactly? asks an inner voice.
Yeah. I tell the inner voice to shut the fuck up. Get through this hour, then I’m free.
“Forgive me,” Gentry says, “I’ve been completely neglecting to introduce my associate, Miss Calliope Cruise. She’ll be helping me present the next in our proposed product line.”
Gentry holds out a hand to me, gesturing me forward. I’m glad to finally have some indication of my role here, but the butterflies in my stomach start swarming as I step forward. Butterflies is probably the wrong word. They bring to mind a nice image. I should say moths. Yes. It’s definitely creepy fuzzy closet moths swarming my innards that I feel as I shake the first man’s hand.
He’s old enough to be my grandfather and then some. There are wrinkles to his wrinkles. I’d have thought his skin would be dry and crackly, but no, his palms are sweaty. “Happy to meet you, little lady.” His filmy blue eyes never leave the vicinity of my chest.
“Richard,” Gentry claps him on the back, “don’t monopolize my lovely associate’s time. I’d like her to meet everyone before we get started. Besides, as I told you earlier,” a look passes between the two men, “there’ll be plenty of time in the question-and-answer portion later.”
“Ah,” Richard gives my hand one last sweaty squeeze before stepping away.
After that, it’s a parade of men. I can tell by the thread count of their suits that they are all very wealthy. None of them are younger than forty. Several have heavy foreign accents, one who sounds English and a couple from Asia.
“It’s good to meet you, Miss Cruise,” says the last man, a Carl something-or-other from Atlantic Dynamics. His gaze never once trays below my chin. “There’s been a lot of chatter about Gentry Tech’s new drone line and I’m excited to hear your presentation.”
“Thank you,” I respond. He seems friendly and genuine. I can’t help the paranoia that’s been clawing at me ever since Gentry maneuvered me into this meeting, but as I see everyone settling into their chairs at what looks like a very ordinary conference meeting, the winged creatures in my stomach start to settle.
This was all just another one of Gentry’s mind games. He was setting this all up like it was going to be something sleazy or bizarre. But it’s all above board. I want to laugh at myself for building it up in my head. Well, that, and I want to punch Gentry in the nuts, the bastard, fucking with me like that.
I turn away from Carl feeling much lighter and go to click on the projection screen. I get my laptop out of my bag and glance at Gentry. He gives me a nod and opens the meeting.
“Gentlemen, I’m excited to welcome you to the future of unmanned aerial systems. What I’m going to show you today is a design that’s light years ahead of the current technology.”
Gentry goes on to detail the idea behind his design and then he nods at me again while simultaneously pressing a remote to dim the lights.
I switch on the projector and begin to go through my presentation. Since I’ve done it several times at this point, my voice comes out strong and clear. I don’t flub a single point.
There are questions throughout the presentation. To my surprise, Gentry lets me field most of them, only jumping in when it’s a question that’s too technical in nature for me to answer.
I finish the slide that describes the software that will drive the drones—the part that so upset Jackson as incomplete. The men in the room merely look satisfied and, dare I say, impressed. Either they accept Gentry’s promises at face value or don’t know any better? But these are men in the industry, surely they know the right questions to ask. Maybe it’s just because Gentry’s reputation precedes him and they trust he can do what he says he will.
Gentry brings the lights in the room back to full power. There’s quiet chatter in the room as a few of the men talk amongst themselves. A couple are still jotting notes on tablets. The physical notepads all sit untouched.
Fine with me. I glance down at my own laptop. I can’t believe that I got through that with no hiccups. A flare of relief rushes through me. My time at Gentry Tech is all but officially done. I can’t help the smile that sneaks across my face. I even managed to do a good job in my last task here. I actually feel proud of myself.
“And now let’s settle in for some refreshments since the first half of our business has been concluded.”
Or not. The excitement I just felt fizzles, but only slightly. Okay, I can get through refreshment hour. No biggie.
Gentry nods at me without ever looking my way. Way to remind me of the indentured servant that I am. I raise my chin. I only have to make it through this last meeting. I can handle anything for an hour.
“Get our esteemed guests whatever they would like to drink.”
“Of course.” I try to keep the tightness out of my voice.
I stand up and move toward the back of the room and—
My ass is pinched.
What the—?
I look back at Gentry in astonishment. Did he just pinch my —?
Gentry reaches out and unabashedly gropes my other ass cheek.
“What are you—?” The words barely come out in a gasp, though.
Because this is not happening. This is a public place. These are respectable businessmen. I just delivered a presentation to them as an equal—
“Unbutton your shirt, Miss Cruise.” Gentry’s voice is as conversational as it’s been all throughout the meeting.
I stare at him, balking.
His affable eyes harden the slightest bit. He leans in and whispers so that just I can hear, “Do you want out of the contract or not? You only get out if you fulfill the obligations of this meeting.”
Bastard. My heart sinks and I huff out in frustration and humiliation, Still, I hesitate only a second before my hands go to the top button of my blouse. This is more of what I was expecting all along, isn’t it? The consequences I knew were coming for quitting?
From the beginning in my office, I decided I could be strong enough to get through this and still walk away with my head held high.
I will not let Bryce Gentry get the best of me.
So the bastard wants to put me on display. Fine. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before. I glare at Gentry the entire time I snap the buttons from their holes. I’m not going to simper or be cowed by him, but it just seems to amuse him more. Fucking cunt bastard.
Gentry holds out an arm toward me while looking at the rest of the table. “I’ve told you what an asset Miss Cruise is to the company. What I neglected to say is what lovely assets she has.”
His lame joke gets a hearty chuckle from the room. I don’t look around the table, but I’m stunned. Being in a room
with these professionals made me feel safe earlier. Gentry is really going to do this in front of all of them? In what world is this acceptable?
“But what about her ass?” This from Richard, the old man. I don’t fight the shudder of disgust that wracks my body. He’s staring hungrily at my chest.
“Oh, we’ll get to that, don’t worry,” Gentry says, looking me right in the eye. There’s some kind of dark promise there, and I have the impulse to run from the room, right now. I tamp it down just in time. I’ll owe over three-quarters of a million dollars if I don’t put up with this show and tell, or else I can’t work where I want for five years. I swallow. Although, I’m quickly getting the idea that it’s not just going to be a show and tell, but a show and touch. Christ.
But I can put up with anything for an hour… can’t I?
I don’t have another second to think about it, though, before Gentry has pulled the shirt off my back. The next second he unclasps my bra and jerks it from my frame.
There’s a noise of masculine reaction throughout the room as my breasts are exposed. Grunts and low groans.
“Up,” Gentry demands.
I don’t understand at first, but then he grasps my hips and pushes me toward the table. “Up on your knees. Like a dog.”
Humiliation colors my face. What the fuck? No. No way did I agree to this.
One of the men in the corner with red hair and a slight gut licks his lips and then reaches out, grabbing my breast and squeezing. I yank back even as his eyes flare at the contact.
Gentry smacks at my thigh again, like he’s chastising me. I turn on him, furious.
That’s it. I’m out.
“I’m not doing this,” I hiss at him. My eyes search out the door behind him. It’s maybe ten feet away. I knew Gentry was disgusting, but this is pushing it way too far. He said I could have an out if I wanted it and I’m taking it.
But Gentry moves far quicker than I expect and his voice is in my ear. “Remember how much you have to lose. All I’m asking is to let them touch you a little. That’s all they’ll do. I promise. Half an hour and you’re free.”
Crush Me Page 25
