Her fingers rested in the accepted typing stance over the keyboard as she found where she left off on the spreadsheet and began to type once more, only to be interrupted yet again with her door banging open.
She looked up sharply, ready to give Kathy a piece of her mind, but was surprised to see her boss standing in the doorway. Lore hated that Krueger was handsome. She wouldn’t have cared what he looked like if the man had been pleasant. He could have been an elderly, overweight, and physically deformed man, and she would not have cared. It was the quality of menace he carried about him that disturbed her. He was a man who knew he could get away with nearly anything in the office and took complete advantage of that fact. As she watched him parading around the cubicles, Lore sometimes found herself imagining the air of darkness traveling wherever he went taking on physical form and blocking the rays of the sun. That’s what it felt like now as he stood before her, like a black hole sucking away all light. She stood to greet him, keeping her hands on her desk. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“We need to talk, Balman,” he rumbled gruffly, shutting the door behind him with another slam.
She gestured for him to sit in the guest chair. “It’s Beyer, sir.”
“Right. Right.” He came around the chair, rudely adjusting his too-tight slacks before sitting down. She nearly winced when the wood of the flimsy office furniture creaked under him.
“What can I do for you?” Lore asked again, sitting back down, then folding her hands on her desk.
Krueger cleared his throat, leveling her with his flat stare, his eyes flashing to her chest and back. “Balman, we’ve been looking over your reports, and we’re seeing some discrepancies.”
“What?” she asked, the conversation going in a completely different direction than she’d anticipated, especially after all the careful wardrobe choices she’d made this past week to lure him in. “I don’t mean to contradict, sir, but my reports are perfect. Flawless, even. I work for days at a time on them. I am meticulous in my—”
“Yes. Yes. I’m sure they’re wonderful.” He waved her worries off.
She frowned, tightening her folded hands to the point of pain. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“Well, I know they’re perfect, and you know they’re perfect.” He shrugged, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “But we are the only ones who know that.”
Lore began to see a pattern forming, understanding how he sank his hooks into the women of the office. She played along, hoping he’d take it where she thought he would. “The entire office sees my reports, Mr. Krueger. They all know how thorough they are.”
He leaned forward, smiling a white-toothed grin that on anybody else would have been charming. “It’s amazing what a few adjustments can do to throw a marketing plan off, isn’t it? Switch a number here, a date there. Boom! Entire project is blown.”
“Why—why would anyone do that?” she asked, spreading her fingers out on her desk, enough worry and agitation coloring her tone to make her seem in distress. “Has someone done that?”
“Not yet.”
“Yet?”
He stood, placing his hands on the desk and leaning into her, the crotch of his pants all too clearly pressed against the wood. She wanted to gag at the pathetic display. “Go out with me on Saturday, Balmer. Stay the night with me. I’ll make sure no one ever messes with those pretty little reports of yours that you spend all your time on.”
“Are you—are you blackmailing me?”
“Those are your words. Not mine.”
“Where is this coming from?”
He nodded conspiratorially, as though she’d said something in code only he could decipher. “I know your type.”
“My type? What type would that be?”
“Stuffy. Composed. Only showing enough tail to get noticed and not be inappropriate.” He licked his lips and lowered his voice, his gaze dropping once more and lingering on her chest. “You like to tease, don’t you, Balmer? You like to make us think we can’t have it, that we’re not good enough for it.” He reached out for her face, but she slapped his hand away, knowing she needed to walk a fine line of anxiety and disgust at this point.
“Excuse you—”
“Nah. I get you. Doing it this way? Making you think it’s out of your hands? That’s how I get you. That’s how I let you allow yourself to get me.”
What a pretentious, egomaniacal, chauvinistic shitbag. “And what gave you the impression I wanted you?”
He smiled and said again, “I know your type.”
Lore prided herself on her composure. Her father always said that human beings were naturally riotous in their emotions, capable of letting loose and showing their cards to the entire world with a single twitch or hitched breath. But if she kept it all on the inside, never letting anyone or anything penetrate her hard-earned walls, she’d always win the hand.
Like her father, Lore liked to win. She liked being calm, liked being in control, and liked having peace of mind, knowing that she was the cat chasing the mouse. And that control had come easy to her in the past five years. But at that moment, staring into the face of a wretched man who was apparently blackmailing her to have sex with him or he would destroy her life’s work, even possibly have a lawsuit filed against her by the board members for mishandling confidential information, she was close to losing her control.
The asshat didn’t know who he was dealing with. She was Lore Beyer, her father’s daughter. In no universe, alternate or otherwise, would she allow some petty, pathetic lard of a man to back her into a corner. She felt the fury of her all too human emotions roiling within her body like a storm-plagued sea, but she kept it all to herself, kept it on the inside. Her face expressed nothing as she stood before walking toward the door in a show of trying to escape. She knew what he would do.
“Where you going, Balmer?” He pushed the guest chair back with a shove, slapping his large hand in front of her along the wall, preventing her from grabbing the doorknob. His next move was so gut churning she almost had trouble keeping the vomit at bay.
His bearlike body pressed against hers, literally backing her into the corner. Hot, whiskey-laced breath skimmed her throat, and she could feel the disgusting, pencil-sized erection pressing into her abdomen. The entire experience was revolting, but she held on for a little longer, playing her part.
She attempted to push him away, make a physical show that she most definitely didn’t want him touching her. He grabbed her wrists, slamming them above her head. She’d have bruises on her skin after this. How many bruises did Kathy have? The thought fortified her.
Lore scrunched her face as she whimpered and told him to get off her, that she didn’t want it. He laughed, made some other chauvinistic threats and comments while grinding himself on her. His hand found its way to her breast, and he squeezed to the point of pain. She projected terror and helplessness on the outside, all the while feeling nothing but a cool and calm rage on the inside, giving her strength to endure and bide her time.
Eventually he desisted, stepping away from her body with a lascivious glare. She crumpled to the floor, staring up at him in wide-eyed horror. It was only a little thing she suffered to make sure it never happened in this office again. She was strong enough.
“I’ll pick you up at nine on Saturday, Balmer.”
With that parting command, he left the room, closing the door behind him. She waited a moment, keeping quiet in her rigid position on the floor. Eventually she pushed aside some more dignity as she crawled toward her desk, out of sight of the camera she had placed in her office two years ago when she’d been concerned with break-ins. The CEO of the company had approved the placement of the cameras without her boss’s or any other colleague’s knowledge. The information she handled was highly sensitive, after all, and needed to be protected against out- and in-office threats. It was her ace in the hole, and she was only upset she hadn’t thought of using it sooner.
Once behind her desk, she instantly sto
od and dusted herself off, cleansing her mind of the mortifying experience with a simple shake of her head. This was something she must have inherited from her father—the ability to ignore the moral or disturbing aspects of a situation to focus on the end goal.
Sitting back at her desk, she then accessed the secure video files and copied the degrading ten minutes onto an external hard drive, wiping the computer’s files clean with a few simple clicks. It was as if the files never existed. She loved modern technology.
Lore then waited with practiced patience until the office cleared out for the evening, including her wretched excuse for a boss. Not wanting to lose sight of it for one second, Lore slung the purse holding the external hard drive over her shoulder and slipped into the IT room. As a senior member of the staff, one the CEO of the company had given special privileges to, she had full access to all in-office networks.
Sitting down at the main IT desk, she logged into the computer using an alternate username assigned to her by the CEO in case of emergencies, then copied every single report she’d ever written for the company onto the same external hard drive, checking the time stamps first to make sure the jackass hadn’t already tampered with them. Through it all her demeanor was remote and her outward calm unpenetrated. She was a silent soldier in the battle for her female coworkers and the respect they deserved.
Task completed, she went back to her office and cleaned out any personal items from the desks and shelves. It wasn’t a lot as she didn’t believe in showing off her personal life to her coworkers, not that she had much of one. Once done, she sat at her desk one last time and e-mailed a resignation letter, plainly stating the reason for her resignation and accusing her boss of sexual harassment and that she had proof of the fact. She forwarded the resignation letter to her longtime family lawyer, Wayne Iver, adding a file with some snapshots of the camera recordings and requesting a meeting for the next day. Even though the circumstances were unfortunate, it would be good to see Wayne. She’d known the man since he came to her rescue during her father’s trial.
As she rode the elevator down to the parking garage, she imagined what Mr. Krueger’s tan face would look like when he realized he’d finally been bested, and by a woman. The thought was exhilarating, and she allowed herself a small, triumphant smile.
Chapter Two
Over the past few weeks, Nolan Roscoe had watched the pretty Miss Lore Beyer work her magic during the trial as she defended her case. He’d never seen a woman face down a man who had sexually harassed her with such cool aplomb. He knew the lawsuit wasn’t fake, wasn’t a boy-who-cried-wolf case. Everyone had seen the incriminating surveillance tape. Everyone had read the real reports the woman had wisely copied onto a personal hard drive, as the accused had falsified the same documents to incriminate her in turn. The sweaty man had been caught red-handed, and Ms. Beyer, along with several other women in the office who had stepped forward with similar complaints, finally feeling brave enough to tell their stories, were going to reap the benefits.
The other women, Nolan could believe they were the victims of sexual harassment. When they gave their testimony, they had each set angry, righteous gazes on the defendant. These were women enraged that they had been treated in such a manner and embarrassed that they had kept quiet about it for so long, especially when others had suffered the same fate. Their testimonies were passionate, bursting with outrage, as they had every right to be after what was done to them. But not Ms. Beyer.
She was as cool and collected as the resignation e-mail she’d sent her employer, outlining the specific accounts of harassment she’d been put through at her office. So detached from the situation, she recited her stories like facts on a spreadsheet. Her recounting of the tale had been performed in exactly the same manner when she’d retold the events of that day to Nolan and his partner, Wayne Iver. Wayne was technically Ms. Beyer’s lawyer, but he’d wanted Nolan’s support on this case, knowing it was going to be a heavy load with all the other women stepping forward.
Michael Krueger was a bigwig in the marketing industry. He’d worked at various firms across the country, never managing to stay in one place for more than a year or two. But there was no doubt, as the son of a wealthy billionaire, that Krueger had plenty of money to spare for settling sexual harassment lawsuits. The little shit. Nolan wanted to punch his meaty face every time he saw him. He couldn’t understand how Ms. Beyer could be so calm when looking the asshole in the face after having seen how he’d molested her on that tape.
Movement around the conference room. The participants of the meeting standing. Nolan shook himself out of his thoughts and stood with everyone else. The trial had ended, and a verdict had been reached. Tragically, it had come to light during the proceedings that Michael Krueger had not only harassed the ladies of his office but had gone so far as to rape one of them. There was proof, but up until this point the former employee had been too scared to come forth. With the support of Lore and the other women of the office, she’d stepped forward and produced evidence of the attack. Krueger was to be tried at a later date for the rape charges. But for now, he currently owed each woman a hefty bag of change, especially Ms. Beyer.
The pissed-off Krueger had to be removed from the courtroom by police as he argued with his lawyer, shooting the women nasty looks and looking more pissed and red-faced than Nolan had ever seen him.
Now they sat in a conference room and were concluding the final debriefing with the women of the case and basking in the satisfaction of a win. Wayne clapped Nolan on his shoulder, yanking his attention from his dark thoughts and back to the more pleasant atmosphere left in the conference room. A familiar, beaming smile lit up the man’s slightly wrinkly features.
“Thank you, Nolan. Good showing.” They shook hands before turning back to the women, who in turn were congratulating each other and discussing how they wished the miserable Krueger would burn in hell or get stuck in a toilet somewhere. He noticed Ms. Beyer quietly packing up her briefcase, keeping herself separate from the group.
Nolan also couldn’t help but notice how remarkably pretty she was. Pale skin with long hair as black as coal swept back in a neat and tidy braid. He wondered if there would be curls in her hair after taking the braid out. He’d like to see those dark curls sweep her pale, slender shoulders, or blow in a breeze past her ruby-red lips. The woman’s reserved nature seemed to pull Nolan in like a tractor beam. It awakened something deep and strong in his heart, something he had felt only once before.
“Let’s go out and celebrate!” the redhead named Margaret exclaimed, looking around at the small group with, finally, a bright smile after weeks of distressed frowns and painful memories. He was truly happy for the women, comforted they would each receive some sort of justice for the bastard’s transgressions, even if he couldn’t wipe the experience from their memories. “Wayne, Nolan, you two are, of course, coming with us. This never would have been possible if it weren’t for you both.”
Wayne grinned cheekily at the ladies. The man was in his midsixties, but he could still make a woman sigh. Had to respect a guy with that much swagger. “Sorry, ladies. The wife is expecting me.”
“Well, what about you, Nolan? No wife or girlfriend waiting for you at home, I hope?” the exuberant Kathy asked while fluttering her thick eyelashes.
Nolan enjoyed the attention but knew they would be disappointed by his answer. “Nope. No woman at home.” He held up his hand before they could react joyfully. “But there is a man.”
“Aww.” Kathy sighed with a good-natured pout. “All the good ones are gay or taken.” All the women, aside from Ms. Beyer, chimed in with their sad agreements to the age-old saying.
He wouldn’t correct them by stating he and his boyfriend, Kieran, were both bisexual. He didn’t want to get their hopes up. But seeing the small smile on Ms. Beyer’s plump lips as their eyes connected made him want to whisper the truth to her in a dark private room, where he and Kieran could surround and consume her. What was it about this
woman that made him want so badly? Adding a vision of his artistic lover into the fantasy only added fuel to the fire.
“How is Kieran, Mr. Roscoe?” Ms. Beyer asked, placing the heavy briefcase strap over her shoulder.
“You knew he had a boyfriend, Lore?” Kathy asked, a pout that wasn’t as good-natured staining her tanned face this time.
“Yes,” Ms. Beyer, Lore, replied economically. Nolan could see she didn’t want to engage the woman in a discussion, but wondered if her avoidance of conversation applied to just Kathy or everyone. Maybe she would indulge him.
“He’s well,” Nolan replied, walking her out of the office, leaving the chattering women behind with Wayne. “How do you know Kieran?”
“We are in a yoga class together.”
“Which one?” Nolan asked with a small chuckle, thinking of his fitness-loving artist. “Kier would live at the yoga studio if he could.”
“Well, I do not wish to live at the yoga studio, so I only go on Sundays.”
“How did you know Kier was my boyfriend?”
“He brags about you when we talk after class.” She smiled what was probably the first full smile he had ever seen on her. She was glorious. “It’s rather sweet how proud he is of you and your work.”
Nolan’s mind began to connect the dots as to who this woman was. For as Kier liked to brag about Nolan, he also liked to talk about the sexy, raven-haired goddess with the slim frame and lips so red he wondered if they tasted like cherries. A woman who only attended the Sunday classes.
They reached the elevator, and she stuck her hand in his direction. “Thank you so much for all your help on this case. Let me know if you need anything else from me pertaining to the details.”
“Of course.” He grasped her hand, not letting go once their polite shake was done. He didn’t rub her skin as he desired to, thinking it would be inappropriate, especially so soon after a sexual harassment case. But he wanted her to know he was there to support her, in at least a friendly manner. “I’ll tell Kieran you said hi.”
A New Resolution Page 3
