"Maybe."
It's nice to talk about my job pressures with someone that is going through a little job dissatisfaction of his own.
"Can I tell you a funny story?"
"Sure."
"The two of us met a long time ago."
"We did?"
"I was sixteen years old. Camden and I were sneaking into Soldier's Center to watch your father's first playoff game, and you were there."
"Really?"
"We literally bumped into each other when I was being chased by security."
A lightbulb goes off in my head.
I remember that boy.
Wow, it was Cutter.
I grip his forearm. "I remember that."
"Of course you do. How could you forget someone like me? Even as a kid, the king was unforgettable," he jokes.
At least I hope he's joking.
"My dad's friends kind of blocked you from talking to me that day. Not that they needed to. I wasn't going to talk to you anyway. I could tell you were too much for me even then."
"Am I too much when I'm inside of you, princess? When you're riding me on that down feather couch of yours or when I tied you spread eagle to my bed? Was I too much then?"
His eyebrows wiggle.
"Not at all, your majesty," I say like he's being tiresome.
Then I pop an egg roll in my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
"Let's go home and make sure." He looks across the room to find Hazel. "Check please, darlin'! I've got a point to prove tonight."
<<<<>>>>
Twenty-Five
sloan
I give my body a long stretch as I wake up yet again in Cutter's bed with a deep ache in muscles that I hadn't realized existed. And when the reason for that soreness registers in my still waking brain, I end up with the broadest smile on my face. Something I've been doing more often than not when the two of us are together.
I spent half of my night gorging myself on caramel corn and laughing my head off at some of Cutter's stories. He's had a colorful life for someone so young, and he's definitely met a lot of interesting people in his line of work. In other words, his majesty likes to name drop, and suffice it to say that some of the world's hottest singers and actors are freakin' deviants who probably owe their careers to him.
I also spent the better half of the night with my ankles tied to Cutter's four-poster bed begging for him to stop, then begging for him to never stop. He is a very creative lover that gets some sort of sadistic satisfaction out of watching me come . . . and come . . . and come.
As I open my eyes while recollecting one of those yummier moments, I wake to find that Cutter is sitting on the bed staring right at me.
"Morning," he says in the deep authoritarian voice I've begun to get used to.
"Morning." He looks like he has a lot on his mind. "You all right?"
"I'm good. You want breakfast?"
"Do I smell bacon?"
"You do."
"Then I want breakfast."
"That's my girl."
He bends down and kisses me tenderly on one of my exposed nipples and then my mouth. It's one of the sweetest kisses he's ever given me, but I feel like something's off with him.
"Go grab a shower, and I'll get your eggs started."
I grab his wrist when he turns to walk away.
"What's wrong, Cutter?"
He sighs for a moment.
"A while ago I discovered that I may have another brother."
"Another King brother walks this earth? I don't think there's room on the planet for another one of you."
His mouth turns up into a small grin. "Probably not."
"So, what's bothering you? That seems like good news."
"I think he's had a hard life. If what I heard is true, I think he's been in jail for a long time."
"Oh."
He notices my reaction.
"I'm not judging him at all. I realize that people make mistakes or get bad breaks in life. Hell, a quarter of the guys I grew up with have done some time. I just feel fucked-up that I have a brother out there who's had a tough go of it."
"And you haven't?" I question. I think Cutter and Camden had a really rough start too.
"Not like him. I've at least always had Cam by my side."
"Have you two worked out your differences yet?"
"We will."
"What's his name? Your other brother."
"Stone."
"What made you think about him today?"
"Not sure."
He rubs the inside of my wrist with his thumb. Then lifts it to his mouth and places a small kiss on it. "This would be the perfect place for your first tattoo."
"Yeah? What should I get?"
Cutter pulls back the covers and slides his hand in between my legs where he finds me already wet and waiting. I've been wet since he said good morning.
"A small crown so you can remember who your king is."
I spread my legs wider.
"Maybe you should remind me right now."
I feel like I am in the middle of a Disney movie. Squirrels are scampering by me happily, the birds seem to be chirping louder, and I feel like everyone I'm passing by on the sidewalk is about to break out into song at any moment.
I enjoyed myself so much last night and this morning that I should be totally wiped, but actually I feel better than I have in a long time. That is until I hit the lobby and realize that for the first time in my career, I've forgotten to handle my business. I failed to email my advanced sales training program application to Fern.
Shit.
"Morning, Sloan." Gidget greets me eagerly as soon as I pass through the glass doors.
"Morning, Gidget."
"Can I talk to you for a minute in your office?"
I don't see Fern anywhere in the vicinity, so I might have a few minutes before our inevitable confrontation.
"Sure, sweetie. Come on."
"So, I've never told you how I ended up with the company, but I'm sure you're aware that I didn't get this job the old-fashioned way."
I never asked, but it was pretty obvious by Gidget's age and lack of work experience that she didn't get her job on her own. Pharmaceutical companies typically don't hire brand-new receptionists because there is more involved to the job than just answering phones. They like someone who is more experienced working in a medical environment. Someone familiar with medical terms and the names of drugs. But I never cared–to me Gidget's a natural and a quick learner.
"We all have our connections, Gidget, and we shouldn't be afraid to use them. No judgment here."
That's ironic coming from me.
"Well–Mr. Stokes is actually my mother's half-brother."
"So, he's your uncle?"
"Yep."
"Umm wow, Gidget."
"I know. I know. Uncle John and I made a deal that we wouldn't tell anyone in the office for the obvious reasons, and it really hasn't been that difficult to hide, because it's not like we're super close."
"So then why are you telling me now?"
The reason can't be good.
"Sometimes he has conversations when I'm around as if I'm not in the room, like he always has since I was small. I overheard that one of your clients called the office and asked to be transferred to Regan's team. A big client."
Clark.
"I know exactly who you're talking about."
"Anyway, Uncle John evidently had a conversation with this doctor and didn't like what he heard. Then I saw him and Fern with their heads together this morning. I think something is going down. I just don't know what it is. I could be making way more out of this than it is, but if your job is in jeopardy, I just wanted to give you a heads up. You're the coolest person that works here, and I don't want to see you blindsided."
Regan's already managed to do that.
Twice.
"Thanks, Gidget. I appreciate it. I realize that you didn't have to tell me anything. Mr. Stokes is your family after all."
>
"You're welcome. We girls have to stick together."
The first thing I do when Gidget closes the door to my office is call Clark to settle this once and for all. He doesn't take any of my calls and now he asks to be reassigned? What a coward.
"Morning, Paige, its Sloan Pearson."
"Morning."
"I'm calling for Doctor Clark again. Is he available?"
"He's with a patient."
"When does his schedule free up?"
"It doesn't. Today he's booked."
"Listen, Paige, I know how you feel about me. You've made that quite clear, but Dr. Clark and I need to settle some business. So, I need you to find a time slot in his schedule for me to talk to him. Please."
"I give him all of your messages."
"So then, what do you suggest?" I ask with frustration.
"I don't know what you did to make him so upset with you, but you should probably start with apologizing."
Before I can respond to that, Clark interrupts and asks Paige who she's talking to. When she tells him it's me, he grabs the phone.
"Morning, Miss Pearson. How can I help you?"
So we're back to formalities.
"Morning, Dr. Clark. I've been trying to get a hold of you for a while. Glad to finally get you on the line. How are things?"
"I've been tied up with work. What can I do for you?"
Clark is being extremely rigid and cold with me. I've never seen this side of him, and I don't think I deserve it.
"We've been friends for a long time now, Clark, and I think–"
"Let me stop you there. We were never friends, Ms. Pearson. I think you know that. Do you think someone like me needed to order from a brand-new sales rep like you?"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Transfer the call to my office, Paige." After a moment, he picks up the line in his office. "It means that I was putting the work in. I was taking it slow. Building trust. Treating you like a lady. But it became pretty obvious to me that night, that you don't respond to that sort of approach."
"Clark–"
"I felt like I was an intruder on my own date the way you were looking at him!"
"So this is why you moved your business to Regan without even consulting me?!"
"Yes."
"I didn't realize our work relationship was contingent upon or rather a precursor to us having a romantic relationship. Must you date everyone you do business with, Harvey Weinstein? Are you going to make Regan date you too?"
Silence
"Wait . . . are you dating her already?"
"I don't appreciate that Weinstein crack, Sloan. I'm not a predator. It's just that Regan and I discovered that we have a lot more in common than I originally thought. It's not so difficult with her."
Jackass.
"So you discovered all of this about each other in a matter of days."
"I didn't pursue her earlier, because I thought you and I might work out, but now–"
"All righty then." I clap once to myself. "Thank you for this."
"For what?"
"You've taught me a huge lesson. There are way more dangerous men out there than the ones I've known. It's the ones you don't see coming that are the worst, and I definitely didn't see your assholery coming, Dr. Clark."
"Look–"
"You have a nice life."
My Disney kind of day was quickly disintegrating into a horribly written suspense thriller. Gidget was right about Fern and Mr. Stokes putting their heads together about something in regard to me, but it had nothing to do with Clark and where his allegiances lie.
It was something altogether worse.
I'm invited to the company conference room via messenger and around the table are Mr. Stokes, Fern, one of the human resources managers, and the spawn of the devil himself–Damien.
"Have a seat, Sloan."
The human resources manager takes the lead.
"So we've called this meeting to address some charges made by Mr. Damien Hardwick."
What the hell?
"You work here?" I ask incredulously.
"You can speak directly with me, Miss Pearson. My name is Mrs. Rickard, and I specialize in mediating corporate conflict and resolutions. I'm here to address the charges that Mr. Hardwick has made against you."
My stomach drops.
Blindsided again.
"I'm not sure what's going on here, but whatever this is doesn't seem like normal procedure. I should have received formal notification from my supervisor." I glare at Fern. "As well as by HR that there were any kind of accusations being made against me before you called this meeting."
"This is not a formal meeting, Miss Pearson," the Rickard lady says in a very calming voice. "This is all very informal. We're hoping to simply mediate and negotiate a positive outcome for both parties. That's all we want, so we can all go about the business of doing our jobs."
"I'm sorry, but what does Mr. Hardwick do for the company?"
"I work in the mailroom as you well know, Miss Pearson," the kid interjects, and I swear I didn't know he knew how to speak the King's English a few weeks ago. Or dress in normal clothes. He's wearing a crisp, white oxford shirt with a pair of clean khakis and cheap dress shoes. Looking as American as apple pie.
"Speak only to me, Mr. Hardwick," the mediator responds. "So we're here, because Mr. Hardwick said that you may have misconstrued something that he said to you as a romantic overture and then told someone close to you about it. A man who ended up assaulting him."
"This is absolutely surreal."
"We understand that in today's climate, many things a man may say to a woman could be misinterpreted, but we want you to understand that we take this type of thing seriously here. We want you both to feel that your workplace is a safe space. Just like this room right now is a safe space to tell us everything that happened."
"I don't need a safe space. His story is a complete lie."
"I'd rather not say that anyone's lying, Miss Pearson. The way I like to reframe things is that people often see the same set of facts through a different lens."
"The lens of a liar. This boy is my kid sister's boyfriend. He's lying to get back at me for an incident that happened between the three of us. An incident he caused."
"Is that true, Mr. Hardwick? Are you dating Miss Pearson's sister?"
"I've never met Miss Pearson's sister."
Oh. My. God.
He actually said that with a straight face.
"Listen to me." I stand up angrily. "This kid is a pathological liar. He is dating my sister. He physically assaulted me. And I think he's been crank calling me for weeks."
"When did he assault you?" Mr. Stokes chimes in.
"The black eye and bandages on my face that I've been sporting for weeks. He did that!" I point to him.
"Please calm down, Miss Pearson," the mediator requests.
"Why didn't you report it with HR?" Fern interjects.
"He didn't work here when it happened. At least I don't think he did," I say.
Damien dramatically stands and lifts his shirt showing the black and blue marks of what I believe are his ribs healing.
"The only one who's been assaulted in this room is me, and I don't feel safe in this environment anymore," he says putting on the act of a lifetime. "I was attacked by Miss Pearson's boyfriend for something that I didn't do."
Everyone's eyes turn to me.
"I'm afraid we have footage to back up what Mr. Hardwick is saying, Miss Pearson. The man who visited you a while back, a Mr. Cutter King, is seen on tape threatening and physically assaulting Mr. Hardwick in the mailroom area. Punching him in the very area that is bruised. Grabbing his throat."
"Is there audio of that footage?"
If Cutter did approach Damien here, he would have definitely said something about Dawn in his threat. I can't believe that he hasn't mentioned a word of this, and I've been sleeping in his bed for days.
"I'm afraid it's only video footage like most
CCTV's."
"I'm sorry if you thought I was making some sort of pass at you, Miss Pearson. That was not my intention. I tried explaining that to your boyfriend, but he tried to choke me, and then he promised that he'd return to finish the job if I didn't leave you alone. I just got this job, and I really like it so far, but now I'm afraid to come to work. Could you talk to him?"
Holy shit and the Golden Globe for best actor goes to . . .
I throw up my hands.
"Do I need to get a lawyer?"
Fern and Mr. Stokes give each other some sort of look.
"Thank you for meeting with us, Mr. Hardwick," the mediator says. "Your supervisor and the HR department will get back to you about this matter. In the meantime, please report to work at eight tomorrow."
"As long as this situation is handled I have no problem coming to work."
Unbelievable.
"Don't forget about that statutory charge, you prick," I say as he walks out. "You fucked with the wrong girl."
While Damien doesn't verbally respond I watch as he balls a tight fist on his way out the door. Once the door is shut, Mr. Stokes speaks to me.
"We're not idiots, Sloan. We know something doesn't smell quite right with this guy's story, but he does have footage of your guest threatening and assaulting him on the property. He could sue us."
"That's why I asked if I needed to get a lawyer," I say.
"Here's the thing," he continues. "You didn't sign up for the managerial training course, your numbers are lower than any other team in the company, and you just lost your best client to Regan Pullson. We're starting to wonder if this is where you really want to be."
They're trying to push me out. I don't even like this stinking job anymore and they want to push me out.
"I'll let you know who my lawyer is in a day or so."
Then I stand up to put on my coat.
"Wait, Sloan," Fern speaks. "Is this really how you want to handle this? You'll never get another pharmaceutical gig if you're at the center of a lawsuit. The pool of associates is small. Managers even smaller. Trust me, you'll want to handle this quietly."
"You mean you want me to resign."
The King Brothers Boxed Set Page 37
