He forced his gaze away, picked up his iPad and walked around his desk. He wasn’t even going to look at her. He was going to focus all his attention on Sasha, when she eventually arrived.
Luckily, at that moment she appeared at the doorway. At least he presumed it was her. A slender young woman of medium height with straight dark hair, she was pretty in an intense, serious, bookish way. Like Coco, she had glasses, and she wore long pants and a shirt she’d buttoned up to her neck, as if frightened of encouraging any male attention. Which he guessed she was, if she had in fact told the truth about Peter Dell. She was biting her lip, and she looked as if a loud noise would make her jump through the roof.
She stood on the threshold, her shoulders hunched toward her ears and her hands jammed in her pockets, so he walked over to her, smiled and held out his hand.
“You must be Sasha—very pleased to meet you. I’m Felix Wilkinson.”
“Hello, Mr. Wilkinson.” She shook his hand—a good, firm grip, then looked up and met his eyes. He corrected his initial impression of her—she might be nervous, but this girl was no walkover.
Her challenging glare made his back stiffen. We’re not all like Peter Dell, he wanted to say on impulse, but he bit his tongue and forced a smile on his face.
“Yes,” she said, “I’m Sasha.”
“Please, call me Felix.” He ignored Coco’s frown and gestured for Sasha to sit beside her. “Miss Stark said you requested she be here.”
“Yes.” Sasha glanced at Coco, then looked back at him. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course.” He took the seat opposite her and rested the iPad on his knee. “Would you like a drink of anything before we start?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
He glanced at Coco, but she was looking at the floor and didn’t look up. He couldn’t worry about what was going through her mind now. He had to concentrate on the matter at hand—even if her skirt had ridden an inch up her beautiful thighs.
Jesus, he really was no better than Dell. He dragged his gaze away and focused on Sasha. “Obviously, you know why we’re here. You’ve made an accusation of sexual harassment against Peter Dell, and when this happens, it’s company policy to carry out an investigation. I’ve been asked because I’m from the Auckland office and I have never met either you or Peter Dell, and therefore I can offer a fair and unbiased opinion.”
“Yes,” Sasha said, although she looked highly sceptical.
Felix held her gaze firmly, determined that she believe he would be open minded and impartial. “I assure you, Sasha, I’m here to try and uncover the truth. I have no agenda, and I promise to be thorough in my investigation with all parties concerned.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sure you’re aware by now that Peter has denied your allegations.”
“Yes.” She frowned.
“I asked him about the events of the night in question, Monday, the fifth of December. I know you’ve already given Rob here a statement, but if you wouldn’t mind, I’d now like you to describe in your own words what happened that night.”
Sasha nodded. “Okay.”
So she told him, and her story reflected pretty much word for word what she’d declared in her statement. Dell had asked her to stay behind to finish typing a diary of phone call logs ready for a case that was appearing in court the next day. She typed them, took them to his office and waited while he read them. Then he called her over to his desk, ostensibly to point out a couple of mistakes she’d missed, but when she leaned forward to look at the document, his hand brushed her hip. She thought it was a mistake, but then he put his hand on the inside of her knee and slid it upward.
At this point Sasha stopped and blinked a few times. There was no other sign that she was upset, but she looked fixedly at the ground, and Felix got the impression she was trying to keep her emotions in check.
“Would you like a glass of water?” he asked kindly.
Without looking up, she nodded, and he glanced at Rob, who got up quickly to fetch a cup from the cooler in the corridor and brought it back. Felix tapped on his iPad for a minute or two to give her time to calm herself as she sipped the water.
Was her emotion genuine? Or was this all an act put on for him? He found it difficult to believe, but he was astute enough to realise that if she’d made it all up in the beginning, she was certainly a good enough actress to be able to carry it through. Or even if she really was worried and nervous now, that didn’t mean she was entirely innocent.
He glanced at Coco. She’d been taking minutes as he talked, her pencil moving gracefully across the paper in the usual indecipherable squiggles of shorthand, but now she lifted her gaze to his. He gave her a small smile. One hovered briefly on her lips before she dropped her eyes to her notepad again.
He flicked a brief look at Sasha, who was staring into her cup, then glanced at Rob and raised his eyebrows in query to his colleague. Rob gave a no idea shrug.
Felix frowned, the weight of the decision bearing down on him for the first time. In the big scheme of things it was a tiny matter—there were no lives at stake, no governments about to crumble or children at risk. And yet he couldn’t dismiss it as inconsequential. If Sasha truly had been sexually harassed, she’d been through a traumatic experience and either way it could affect her and her relationships with other people for a long, long time. If he found Dell innocent and he really was guilty, it would undermine her faith in justice and make it very difficult for her to trust in men again. Equally, if he believed her and found Dell guilty and he was in fact innocent, he would be destroying a good man’s career, as well as damaging the reputation of his own firm. It was not a light decision to make, and he cursed Christopher McAllister for putting him in this position.
Still, he’d taken the role and there was nothing more to be done. He sighed and said to Sasha, “Shall we continue or do you need more time?”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sasha put her cup on the table. “No, carry on. I’m sorry, it’s just…” She rubbed her nose, and her shoulders slumped as if she’d finally released all the tension from her system and let down her guard. “I’m not normally a wuss. But it’s difficult to stand up for myself against the image of McAllister Dell, you know? I like and respect Mr. McAllister, and I liked Mr. Dell well enough up until that point. He was nice—he talked to me whereas a lot of the older partners act as if you’re invisible.”
“Truly?” Felix was astonished at her comment, as well as surprised at the way she’d suddenly opened up. Even Rob looked startled. He’d told Felix that getting a statement out of her had been like getting blood out of a stone. But maybe she’d decided this was her opportunity to put things straight.
Sasha gave a humourless laugh. “Oh yes. They’ll walk straight by me and not even say good morning. So it was nice whenever the senior partners took the time to talk. Mr. McAllister always asked about my cat. Mr. Dell always asked what I’d done at the weekend. Sometimes he’d sit on the edge of my desk. He’d ask if I’d been out, and with whom, and he’d tease me about having a boyfriend.” Her cheeks flushed.
“Did he do that often?”
She shrugged. “Most weeks, after the weekend. But I didn’t think anything of it. It’s something most women have to put up with, especially from older men.”
Felix studied his iPad, but he wasn’t reading. He puzzled over Sasha’s words. Was it true? Did men usually tease women about who they were dating? It wasn’t something he would have dreamed of doing, but of course he had seen it happen. How insensitive.
He looked up to see Coco watching him. Her lips curved very slightly in one corner, as if she could sense his confusion. Was she amused by his confusion or by his naivety?
He ran a hand through his hair and cleared his throat. “How did you feel when Mr. Dell asked you to stay late that night?”
“I wasn’t worried,” Sasha said. “I’d worked late before for Mr. McAllister and for Mr. Hoyle. Plus we get paid overtime and
I needed the money, so I was happy to do it.”
“Did Mr. Dell ask you to stay late,” Rob interjected, “or did you offer? This is quite important, Sasha.”
“He asked me,” she said immediately. “He came up to my desk and told me that I was one of the best secretaries in the office. I remember feeling flattered by that.” Her expression darkened. “Pathetic, eh?”
“It’s understandable,” said Felix. Dell had told him that he’d posed a question to the room and Sasha had volunteered. Felix was going to have to ask the other secretaries in the office if they could remember exactly what happened.
“I remember thinking it was odd, though,” Sasha said without being prompted.
“Why?”
“The call logs had already been sent to us in a pdf file. That document would have been perfectly acceptable to submit, but Mr. Dell insisted that they needed to be retyped. It didn’t make sense at the time, but I just assumed he was being a perfectionist—he’s a bit like that.”
Felix noted that down. He’d check to see if there had been an original file later. Coco should be able to tell by the date of the file on the computer. “So you did the typing for him and took a copy of the document to his office?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you just email him a copy or tell him where the file was saved?”
“We don’t do that here,” she said. “The older lawyers like everything in hard copy.”
“We like to destroy at least two rainforests every year,” Rob said dryly. Coco sent him a glare, and he dropped his gaze.
Felix stifled a smile. “Okay, so you took him a copy. He read it and mentioned some errors.”
“Yes.”
“Did you walk over to his desk to look at them, or did he call you over?”
“He called me over. I didn’t think anything of it until he pointed out the error—I’d already told him I hadn’t lined one of the columns up right. I wondered why he was telling me something I already knew.”
Felix nodded and read her statement. “And then he brushed your hip.”
“Yes.”
His eyes met Coco’s as her pencil paused on the paper. Now they were coming to the crunch. “You didn’t think there was anything wrong with this?”
Sasha hesitated. “Initially it was a fleeting touch. I thought it was an accident. It happens, you know? You lean forward and misjudge the distance.”
“But then he touched your knee?”
“Yes. The inside.”
“And you still thought it was an accident?” He couldn’t stop a hint of doubt creeping into his voice.
Her eyes hardened. “You have to understand, all this happened in the space of seconds. We’re adults in a working relationship—I’m not going to jump up at the first sign of physical contact and yell rape, Mr. Wilkinson.”
“I apologise if I offended you,” he said, stifling irritation at her resentfulness. “But I have to get the details clear. Peter touched the inside of your knee, and initially you didn’t do anything?”
“I thought maybe he was reaching for the drawer or something.”
Felix frowned. “Was it possible he took your lack of reaction as acquiescence—that he thought you approved of the touch?”
“I…” Her voice tailed off and she looked confused.
Felix hesitated. Dell had told him Sasha had touched him first, but even if that wasn’t the case, he could have been trying to cover his embarrassment at making a move on a girl when he thought she was interested. It was no excuse for lying, but it was a hard world out there for both sexes, and he wasn’t about to ruin a man’s career because Dell had misunderstood what he thought were obvious signs.
He thought of Coco—how he’d flirted with her, then worried he’d got it wrong, before she finally kissed him. He sighed. “The point I’m trying to make, Sasha, is that sometimes it’s difficult for both sexes to distinguish between flirting and genuine interest. I need to establish whether what happened here was a misunderstanding—whether there was any reason that Peter may have thought you were interested in him.”
“There wasn’t,” she said flatly.
“You told me that he often stopped by your desk to talk to you.”
“Occasionally, not often.”
“When he did, you talked about what happened at the weekend. About your boyfriends?”
Her cheeks flushed. “He asked me. I never offered any information.”
“But you answered him?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“In what way would you answer him? With a flat ‘no’? Would you turn away or tell him not to be so personal?”
Her cheeks grew redder. “No, of course not. I was always polite. I’d tell him I’d had a nice weekend, and that I’d spent it on my own.”
She’d grown defensive, so Felix decided to change tack. “What result are you looking for from this case, Sasha? If Peter is found guilty, what would you expect to happen to him?”
“I’d expect him to be sacked, of course,” she said. “How could he continue to work when he might try it on again with other women?”
“That’s quite a harsh outcome considering nothing happened between you.”
“Something did happen,” she snapped. “I was assaulted.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that what happened hasn’t had an effect on you,” he said, wishing he’d chosen his words more carefully.
“Well, it has.” Her lip trembled.
He decided to change tack again. “Do you think you have a good sense of humour?”
Her gaze flicked to Coco, as if asking for help as to the change of direction. Coco gave her a small smile and a slight shrug.
“I suppose,” Sasha said.
“Do you ever discuss sex with your workmates—men or women?”
She glared at him. “No, never.”
“Ever tell sexual jokes? ‘That’s what she said’ comments?”
She huffed a sigh. “No more than anyone else.”
“So you have done that?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe once or twice,” she said.
“Is it possible that Peter Dell overheard these jokes?”
“I suppose…” She glared again. The look in her eyes almost made him squirm, but he refused to be intimidated, his own irritation rising at her aggressive manner.
He gestured at her. “What about your clothing. I see today you’re wearing a long-sleeved shirt and pants. Do you ever wear a skirt?”
“Of course.”
“What type?”
The corner of her mouth curved. “You really want to discuss fashion, Mr. Wilkinson?”
Her smart comment didn’t amuse him. He didn’t smile, but merely raised an eyebrow. “Do you ever wear short skirts?”
She met his gaze for a moment. He could see that she wanted to lie, but that she also knew he’d know if she was. “Occasionally,” she said eventually. “They’re not short short, only an inch or so above the knee.”
“And what about your tops? Do you always wear shirts?”
“Not all the time.” Her eyes were like icicles, her speech clipped and sharp.
Unusually, he lost his temper. He was trying to solve this case—a case that he hadn’t wanted to take on in the first place and that he was wishing he’d refused—and instead of helping him understand what had happened, she was insinuating that his questions were unfair, and casting him in the same mould as Peter Dell, which lit his fuse.
He leaned forward, a movement that he knew she’d interpret as confrontational, especially considering he was taller and bigger than she. “The urge to draw the attention of the opposite sex occurs on a biological level, not a conscious one. It’s part of human nature. The fact is that women often dress to attract attention—by wearing low-cut tops, undoing an extra button and buying fabrics that are vaguely transparent. Don’t you agree?”
Coco lifted her head and stared at him.
Sasha stiffened and froze. Then she stood, very
slowly, every bone in her body showing her indignation. “I could come to work naked, Mr. Wilkinson, and I still wouldn’t be ‘asking for it’, as Mr. Dell so politely put it. I’m insulted and appalled that you are intimating that anything I’ve done or worn could have justified the way Mr. Dell touched me. I did not court his attention, nor did I want it, hence my complaint.”
And she walked out of the room.
Chapter Thirty
“Nice,” Coco said wryly.
Felix put his head in his hands and said, “Fuck.”
Rob cleared his throat. “I’ll just go and make sure she’s okay.” He left the room.
Coco sat silently and watched Felix. She sensed he was unused to losing his temper. For some reason, Sasha had pushed all his buttons. Was that because Coco was in the room? Or just that the case had just touched a nerve since their relationship began?
Eventually he lifted his head and ran his hands through his hair, sat back in his chair and looked at her.
“Sorry,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think it’s me you should be apologising to.”
He looked out of the window mutely. Suddenly he looked very young and unsure of himself, his hair sticking up at the front, and she felt a wave of affection for him, in spite of her initial anger at his insensitive words. Obviously he thought of himself as a champion for everyone regardless of their gender, race or colour. He’d shocked himself with his comments to Sasha, and she supposed he felt even worse knowing Coco had overhead it.
She ran her gaze down him, unable to stop herself remembering how he’d been in the limo—dressed to kill in his tux, so commanding and possessive, knowing exactly what she wanted. And yet he’d held her so tenderly afterward, asking her if she was okay, making sure he hadn’t hurt her. He’d stroked her hair, kissed her and murmured endearments until they eventually arrived at her house. And then he’d let her go reluctantly, telling her what a wonderful time he’d had. She’d hardly had a wink of sleep and she guessed he hadn’t either.
Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3 Page 18
